Awaken the Senses~

I am what most people would call a "morning person." Love them (Or hate them), "morning people" are generally known for greeting the day with gusto! Hutzpah! Fanfare! Razzamatazz! (And if you are one of these chosen few, and it just so happens to be before noon as you are presently perusing this blog, then please do feel free to insert whatever * dazzling * emotion you are presently rockin' out here___________.)

This morning, however, was different. I woke up feeling...nothing. The eager anticipation of demolishing my "To See" list here in Barcelona, coupled with my darned diligence and frightening efficiency and go get 'em mentality, had seen to it that I had no plan or desired destination for this particular day whatsoever.

I thought to get up...* Meh *... (The day can wait). I thought of taking a shower...* Meh *...(Hygiene is sooo overrated I tell myself). I thought of making breakfast...* Meh * (Pancakes for one? No Thanks). I thought of calling home...*AAAAAND we have motion! * fanfare! *...rolls...slowly...grunts...rolls...thud. Pad, pad, pad...scuffle, scuffle....hum....dials...and, yes...*home*.

Home caught me up with their day(s), and home asked me about mine. Home shared with me, and home received my share in return. Home recognized my loneliness, and home met me in that ache. Home helped me to remember, yet reminded me in whispers sweetly of the blessed now. Yes, home got me out of that bed. And then...home lit a fire under my a** (with love of course). "Do you feel that?" I felt like I was being asked. "No" I replied....still numb. "Well then, FEEL this..." (a small nudge....okay, what then became a firm push, out the door).

The sunlight was blinding....I felt its warmth. Placing one leaden foot before the other, I stumbled towards the sea. I could sense the strain of my leg muscles with each new stride; the contraction of my calves with every step...I felt motion.

On the boardwalk, the waves of bikers blow past me...I feel the wind left by their wake gently rock my frame.

The adoring couple, unapologetic in their open affections...I feel connection.

The raucous children, launched into spastic motion with such eagerness and enthusiasm, trill their tinkling laughter--a holy chorus of angels more heavenly and spiritual than any church choir these ears have ever heard. I feel cleansed.

The nude sunbathers, baring all. I feel the heat of solar energy; its reflection dancing among their flawed, yet beautiful forms.

I feel it all. It is closing in around me...squeezing me until I cannot do anything but focus on each new breath. Pulsating. Throbbing. Bubbling up and spilling over. Unable to be contained within the vacuumed void of numbness, it will not be deterred.

I feel *life.*

I see it being lived.

I hear the beating of my own heart...in response and humbled recognition.

I taste the sweetness of partaking.

I touch upon truth.

~Awakened~

Cerrado~

Metro man

Furrowed, brow

Furtive, forward-focused eyes

Arms crossed

Legs together

Jaw clenched

Muscles taut

Tight, pinched lips *I can only imagine your bum cheeks are in the same strict state… *

Shoulders slightly slumped

Metro man…your body shrinks from me…its language telling of a concave creature, whose stature screams "CERRADO!"

Metro man, you are like a shop whose lights are turned off, yet the shopkeeper remains behind, smoking his pipe in front of the glass windows….fully aware that the dim glow beckons to passersby, teasing and taunting.

I wonder if you know how much they want to come and sit awhile with you…how they ache to hear your stories…to have the rich, velvet aroma of your stogie saturate their senses, sweeping them up in fellowship.

One of these days, Metro Man, I will get to you. When you are tired and weary. When your guard is down. I will catch your eye. I will cause your gaze to stray, and I will smile. I will smile unabashedly, and you will at first be embarrassed by my childishness---my inappropriate and brash behavior. Then you will realize you are too exhausted for embarrassment. Your day will have so beaten and bruised you, seeming to rob you of all joy…it is THIS day you will have left only the energy for embrace.

Blessings be, Metro Man. I await with joyful expectation, that day…when I can share smiles, or perhaps just sit and smoke with you~

Tears of Recognition~

I cried today.

I cried not when I awoke thousands of miles from home.

I cried not when my bare feet (so used to the Hawaiian warmth) hit the cold, marble floor.

I cried not when my greeting to the flat’s concierge faded into the air unmet.

I cried not when the front door opened to a decibel of howling wind that only dogs, or perhaps bats could intelligibly decipher.

I cried not when the taxicab blared its horn at my apparent inadequacy in crossing the road in a timely manner.

I cried not when the waitress at the restaurant refused to serve me, as I could not order in “proper Spanish.”

I cried not when the next waiter barely met my eye, as I seem to serve only in being an unwanted nuisance here...damn tourist.

I cried not when the "toast" I ordered really turned out to be something with ham and a yellowish sauce of sorts…on top of um, bread (I think).

I cried not when I left the café starving, too proud to return the unknown something in order to get what I really wanted.

I cried not when I, on my morning run, passed by the fellowjoggers, who I realized sadly were not my “fellow” anythings.

I cried not when my legs began to burn, my exhausted physical body beginning to slowly match the state of my weary heart and emotions.

I cried not when I stopped to watch the sea, my lungs seering in pain…protesting angrily at the pace I had pushed upon them.

Old man, off to my right. I catch a glimpse of you. Small in stature you appear to be….yet after my morning…you are menacing. Dare I meet your gaze…and risk my soft, thin skin being bruised yet again? I turn, despite my better judgment. I see you. You offer me not a smile….not even a full look in the eye…but you tip your hat to me—a slight nod of your head….recognition that I AM.

I cried today.

Anonymity and Acquaintance~

In a matter of 48 hours, I have uprooted myself from a small, sleepy community on an island in the middle of the Pacific, only to now find myself dropped amid a bustling, Metropolitan mega-city. To label this transition as “jarring” would be an understatement of epic proportions. For the last two days I have been immersed within thoughts regarding contrasting environments. I am still sorting through my many wandering notions, but if you don’t mind, I will share a few (with such hope and prayers that you will be challenged in your own thoughts, as well as add to these with you own ruminations).

I am convinced (without a doubt) that ingrained deep within the very essence of my being, I am a wide-open spaces seeking / country living / blue sky loving/ fresh water swimming/ mountain climbing kind of a girl. It is a common joke among my close friends that (if left to my own devices and inclinations) I would be happy as a clam living far, far away from most civilization (in fact, I actually do… J). They know I am, indeed, simply a “Hobbit at heart.” My great friend Lam often calls me on the telephone, insisting that I: “Emerge from the Hobbit hole (our loving term of endearment for my apartment) pronto!” So, yes, I do like my peace, quiet and serenity. I also know that I prefer to live my daily life operating on a smaller scale, and at a slower pace. Knowing this about myself, and finding myself here and now (in an environment in all points counter to that inclination) is quite the experience for this self-professed “country girl.” “Why am I so?” I have been exploring now…”Why do I SAY I am such…and what is it that big, bad Barcelona (or large cities in general) symbolize to me (at least from my perspective?) Maybe some of you have wondered the same thing(s)…

I am sitting here in a café, writing. It is a busy, buzzing beehive of sound and movement. The energy is intense, yet not overwhelmingly so, nor unpleasant by any means…just “charged,” if you will—like a renewable battery that you somehow know will just never run down. I find it odd, in light of this buzz, that I get the most work done in coffee shops and cafes, at least here in Europe. Perhaps it is because no one “bothers” me. I do not speak the language. I am foreign—unfamiliar, and an unknown variable in the regular patrons’ habitual routines.

My morning run produced a similar situation, awareness, and feeling within me. I left my flat and jogged through a particularly crowded industrial section of La Gran Via. Besides the few honked horns and animated air-kisses offered up with enthusiasm and gusto (have I mentioned yet that Spanish men are quite the charming lot?), I glided through the city streets in a state of surreal solitude. Once I reached the seashore and continued along the boardwalk, not much changed. Only a few smiles were obtained from passersby and fellow runners—each of which were greedily gobbled up by this starving Southern-bred “sweetness” and cordiality loving soul. I find this situation…anonymity (or what you want to call it)…not to be good or bad necessarily, in and of itself. It simply is what it “is.”

Anonymity is actually what I am loving about Barcelona most thus far. The fact that I can take a run, or venture out to a coffeeshop and literally be “bothered” by no one, I must admit, seems an almost sinfully selfish, although decadent and delicious, luxury some days. A sense of inexplicable freedom fills me when I think of this…a lightness of being of sorts. “Why?” I have asked myself. The best answer I can surmise is summed up in three simple words: UNFETTERED BY ACQUAINTANCE.

I will try and describe this feeling more clearly: An “acquaintance,” to me, signifies those relationships in my life that have no depth. They are new, or in the beginning stages. Or perhaps (sadly) they may even be quite old, yet remain immature and stunted in their growth. These “acquaintances” are the relational bonds that I sense will require much energy and exhaustive effort to “get there” in desired intimacy depth (if that goal is even possible at all…it is so rare to find that level of “knowing” and “share”). So, to me, Barcelona (or any place that offers me this “freedom from acquaintance”) is giving me such an amazing gift—the elimination/ cutting of those (loose and surface) “ties that bind.” (And so severely and bluntly doing so). I sense that it should hurt, yet feel only extreme relief and refreshment~

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This was just a small smattering of my thoughts so far on what I am experiencing within myself here…what this new transition and life season is all bringing to mind. I am aware this post is dangerously teetering on the edge of becoming entirely too long and tedious, so I will wrap up for now—leaving you with open-ended ideas and inklings (and hopefully a wide-open forum for dialogue!) on anonymity, acquaintance(s), and all things inhabiting among them~

Isolation, Preparation, Self-Preservation~

This past month, ever since I found I would be leaving my home, friends, and what has now become my Ohana (family), I have been somewhat of an emotional roller coaster. Granted, no one would have known this by simply looking at me. But, rather, I know myself, and am able to clearly see the signs that show my stirred state of mind.

I recognize it in the small things, seemingly insignificant to most, yet for me, they are classic signposts that I am “going through a season”. This season, what I see as yet one more transition, is riddled with change, yes THAT DREADED CHANGE * shudder *.

I realized yesterday that my life here I am so happy with (and in). Some days everything within me is gravitating to that “Don’t rock the boat” mentality. “Just stay Andy Beth….you love your little life here!” I will chant this mantra over myself, and then stop and remember this amazing opportunity and blessing that has been laid before me by God…this challenge, if you will * for He KNOWS it is a huge obstacle of fear to overcome for this stability loving soul! * I often feel that He has given me specifically this option in life because it involves risk…and trust…and spontanaiety…all of which now don’t be shocked too much I NEVER would have chosen of my own freewill and accord. Really. Don’t get me wrong, I love trying new things…but I PLAN to try new things, and I PLAN on how I will go about them, and I THINK AHEAD of all the outcomes and make all arrangements according to how I am confident * based on my precise ahem calculations * that things will inevitably turn out exactly as PLANNED *tied pristinely with a pretty pink color-coordinated bow, thank you *

What struck me most with this upcoming season of change is thinking about how very much of my home I will be missing here. The little things…like daily coffee with my good friend Lamm, the sunset swims with my girls, evening bonfires on the beach with the funniest and over-the-top jokesters I have ever met, sunlit bike rides that make me feel more alive everyday, buying fresh honey from heaven and calming kava from the local man in his roadside stand, or even going to the market and “talking story” with my favorite cashier.

My first reaction to this present predicament is a defense mechanism I have often used in the past…isolation. In my oh so strange mind, I somehow believe that if I simply stay to myself these last few weeks, and train my heart to “not need anyone”… and become that lone wolf…then I will be more “ready,” or that it will make things better and easier to tear myself away when the time for departure comes. I noticed myself beginning these patterns earlier this week…politely refusing invitations to parties, opting to do yoga at home versus attending my favorite beachside class, embarking on early morning solo hikes and bike rides versus joining my buddies who have a pretty amazing little group going most days, or even shyly eschewing beautiful souls who desire to take me out * in the convoluted notion that this will somehow make me less lonely “in the long run, of course” *

This week I tangibly sensed my masochistic insanity. In my seeking of self-preservation, I was drying up from lack of fellowship and love like a raisin left out to bake in the sun. I knew I had to stop this negative pattern of being paralyzed by fear…and I also knew I would have to do it afraid. So, rather than pull away from these relationships and invitations in my life, I am striving to sprint towards them as if my life depends on it (for in actuality, I am realizing it does).

This past week was spent in complete community and fellowship. I have been blessed to experience the intimacy of friendship and love that I have only dreamed of, and read about, in favorite books…agape love such as that which was found in the apostle Paul’s Corinthian Community--that realistic, tangible love and mutual concern that Hollywood movies find boring and non-screen worthy, yes…that GOOD stuff of the everyday.

I used to fear this type of closeness. I was a master at placing walls—realizing that to be so open and known, is to be made vulnerable—and vulnerability to me, was dangerous. I still see the "danger,"-- yet I am now understanding that there is such breathtaking beauty in risk….and unfettered freedom to be found in offering oneself up to the amazing possibilities of all things yet known~

Served~

So I am baking a cake today. Ever since I can remember, I have had an intense affinity for marvelous creations of the sweet sort. Yes, I love to bake. I mean LOVE LOVE LOVE it. Cakes, pies, cookies, tarts, muffins, petit-poits, cupcakes—all things warm, lovely and filled with homemade goodness.

I’ve often been asked why exactly it is that I have such an extreme and fond affection for rockin’ out the oven. I never really knew the reason(s) myself until my college years. My freshman year (talk about a year filled with transition and emotional turmoil/ growth!), I got a job working in a small, little bakery. My baking and barista days at Magnolia remain my absolute favorite employment to this day. It was more than a paycheck to me. This job opened my eyes…and I began to see that my job * although deceptive to the common eye * was not merely being a menial baker working for 7 dollars an hour. No, instead I realized that I was a counselor, an artist, a designer, a caregiver, a comforter, a nurturer, a lover—and a HEALER. At this tiny bakery, in that small hidden corner of Southern Virginia, we did not sell pastries or sweets by the dozen—we served each customer love—“wrapped individually”—and “made to order”.

I witnessed every day, the simple miracle that was communion…the literal breaking of bread. By simply offering tangible baked goods…we supplied the catalyst that fostered community, that nourished physical bodies, and that fed hungry souls.

I am a visual thinker, so I’d love to paint a picture of what I mean. Welcome to Lynchburg, Virginia, ponopeople…you are now invited to the wonderful world of Magnolia’s.

Although we made an entire batch of muffins at 6am like clockwork every morning…you better believe that EACH customer that came in knew deep within their being that the baker REALLY secretly got up extra early in the morning just for THEM specifically to enjoy that fresh out of the oven offering…because, you know, “I DO come in every morning at the same exact time…and she knows just what I like”. * Yes, ME* J

And yes, I DO remember just what they like(d):

Johnny, the 56-year old retired architect, who rode around on his antique bike, knew that his cranberry orange muffin would be waiting for him at 6am sharp. Scowling as he would grab the sack, he would wait until he got outside and around the corner to take his first bite; a schoolboy grin of such satiety and joy spreading across his worry-wrinkled face *yeah, we saw you Johnny J *

Nona, the kind, soft-voiced woman, who was confined 99% of the days to her home and wheelchair, knew that her sweet tea and homemade “soup of the day” would be warm and ready for her when the hired transport brought her on their one outing of the day. When asked what type of soup she would like (there were always two)…the answer was always the same: With a widespread smile across her withered skin, she would lean close and whisper with childlike glee and anticipation: “Surprise me, dear…you’ve yet to disappoint!”

Linnette, the rotund single woman who was constantly on the latest fad diet (we knew because she heralded her “new plan for the new her” to us daily), would come in on her way home from work (she was a schoolteacher who truly loved her kids). She would shyly make her way up to the counter and order a “lil’ somethin’ sweet”. Because “she really shouldn’t.” This interchange always ended in Linnette being given a generous portion of her favorite treat of the day—handed to her with such care by familiar smiling faces--who really knew that what Linnette REALLY wanted * and maybe even “needed” that day * was a “BIG HONKIN’ SLAB of somethin’ sweet”….so we served Linnette her “sliver” and looked forward to her coming again.

These are just a few of the amazing patrons that I came to know and love during my time here. So many more come to mind, but I must be brief. Basically, I have learned that whatever it may be: An aging man’s momentary escape into childlike glee and joyful appreciation; A shut-ins brief vacation from her imprisonment—and the fellowship that follows; or a hurting woman’s outcry for grace and self-acceptance….we were able to supply---by, yes, simply baking~

Yes, I am baking a cake today. I long and ache to bake a cake today…because I want to serve someone today—and not just a slice of cake~

Soooo Fired~

I have not written in a few days. I had not thought much about this fact until I was reminded by a friend (in love, of course), that I had better get with the program and become consistent in my postings, as it is: “technically my job come April.” I have been contemplating this turn of events, the fact that I am, in essence, supporting myself solely through my writing this year—making me an actual, “writer” of sorts. This title makes me laugh, and simultaneously overwhelms the bejesus out of me. Therefore, I am officially announcing my resignation…no…I am taking it one step further and am absolutely firing myself, termination effective immediately!

I have decided, however, that I would be willing to accept a lesser position, as “field researcher” and “fact gatherer” for an elite and special task force, who operates under the mantle: “Ponopeople.” My first reaction when I was approached with working with this underground group was that surely there was someone better qualified for the job than myself. Yet, those who have been involved with this mission from the ground up assure me that they have weighed the costs and handpicked me precisely due to the fact that I am such an unlikely candidate. No one would ever suspect that I work for this operation and am familiar with its inner-workings. Think about it…a mere civilian…unassuming and boringly average.

Uncanny...how illogical it seems that I am to be trusted with such a fantastic mission…therefore making perfect sense. This mission: * which I have chosen to accept * : to go into the world, seeking out ponopeople across the globe, and writing their stories…I will keep a log of my own thoughts as I go through the rigorous training involved… revealing the many lessons I am sure to learn along the way…recording and storing every bit of data I come across, in hopes of returning to homebase with a wealth of information with which the Ponopeople can collectively use to their advantage in their greater mission: Finding that fine balance of Goodness, Rightness, and Life~

If you are receiving a copy of this memo, you have been deemed as a vital and integral member of this mission: your name appearing on a top-secret list. I am counting on you to be my contact(s)…my inside links into the Ponopeople realm as I wander…my connection to the core. I have complete faith that you are also up to this task. And on we go. This memo will self destruct within 30 seconds…*and if it doesn’t, by some chance…rest assured that just means that it * ahem * must be written in that, um, new invisible “only-you-can-read-this-ink” that they have only recently just come up with *do you sense this is INCREDIBLE ink?* that so few people know about in the world…*

……30, 29, 28, 27….

'Effin Messy (A Tribute to Finger Painting, Flaws and Freedom)

I am in the middle of reading the book Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (extremely good, by the way) and I came across this passage regarding perfectionism. She is directly referencing the process of writing, yet I have complete faith that a lesson about life is fast on its heels... Such wisdom and awareness could not go undocumented here:

"Perfectionism means that you try desperately not to leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived. Clutter is wonderfully fertile ground--you can still discover new treasures under all those piles, clean things up, edit things out, fix things, get a grip. Tidiness suggests that something is as good as it's going to get. Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation, while writing (LIFE??) needs to breathe and move."

For some reason, as I read this passage (the whole chapter, really) I could not get the image of children finger painting out of my head. Kids--- ten-tentacled--caked to the core with a rainbow pallet of bright blues, radiant reds, and glittering greens--they "stroke". Swirling and twirling--swinging wide-- joyously launching globs and blobs of pigment with reckless abandon. Hues hurtle heedlessly towards the canvas--splashing; spreading; saturating every inch of naked space--clothing it with color. A spirit of frenzied freedom breathes life into the previous pallor.

Children are no respecters of lines...this is evident as one surveys the carnage of a canvas that was once so tidy and neat. Yes, I say, carnage....for the children have feasted upon their freedom of flaws...having satisfied themselves upon the sweet surrender of sterility. And it was good~

Love: Pono Style~

Aloha all,

Was sent this amazing quote by a fellow sojourner of ours today who thought that it embodied the true Pono style spirit (and I quite agree!) Keep those thoughts, comments and YOUR additions coming, Ponopeople! It is the reason this blog was started in the first place, to empower, encourage and edify one another along this journey we call life. I look forward to walking with you every step of the way! (Feel free to follow up this posting with any of your quotes, etc that you feel also captures the pono philosophy....what a great way to bless others who visit this blog today....and the writer just so happens to like being blessed too, so keep 'em coming!)

"heard this definition of love today: doing all you can to help another reach his or her fullest potential"~

Sounds like a challenge~ Sounds good~

Haole Haiku~

Perched upon my bench,

Gazing longingly as cars pass by.

Thanks for the ride, ******s!

A strange family,

Trannies, bums, haoles, rastas,

Flank my side in turn~

A small, elfin child

in exultation, declares:

Mommy! I smell pee!

Lovely shades of blue

best describe colored faces

nostrils flare and fuss~

Gasping and giggling,

intermittently curses rise

blue faces now green~

The mommy "shushes"

stifling her own tickled grin

all eyes glaze over~

Laughter on my lips

thinking of my present life

praise be randomness~

Tickets should be sold,

displaying all da kine,

this traveling carnivale~

This rolling riot,

always a new adventure,

aloha the bus!

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Also, I returned home to read this in the paper....coincidence? (I think not!)

*I especially like the part reading that breaks it down for us (and I quote) "It doesn't matter if it's body odor or offensive fumes that emanates from clothes, personal belongings or animals"*

???

http://www.examiner.com/a-2196678~Honolulu_seeking_to_ban__BO__on_buses.html?cid=rss-Hawaii_Headlines