~Fabric of A Family~

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Once silk,

soft upon my skin,

the color purple,

like royalty

dyed.

A cohesive quilt,

designed.

With deft fingers,

spun in skill,

The fabric of my family.

Arms,

Extended to their limits,

Fingertips,

reaching for the remnants

curled around this olive branch

holding onto hope

holding out for healing.

This schism

senseless.

Now the sun smiles,

its shadows cast.

don't say it sweetly,

rather speak plainly.

salt in the wound doesn't scare me.

Like Thomas,

I would touch and see

to believe.

That what is said exists.

We are.

He is.

I am.

Family.

Or Can be.

For words are wondrous beings

chameleons changing color

adapting

blending as best they can

for survival they shift

they are scared.

And even now,

I refuse to be the fig,

I will not wither on this vine,

And though the desert is dry,

There are still streams of water to be found~

Home for the Holidays~

Holidays.

The holiday season has always been a bit emotional for me. I am not sure if it is more the break in my normal routine, the sometimes hectic busyness of a full month’s worth of parties/ friends/ gatherings/ family, the build up of anticipation of that December 25^th day, travel and traffic, stampedes at the local shopping mall, or the inevitable fact that someone (at least one) that I love will most likely not make it home for the holidays.

This year, that “someone”—was me.

Not only did I not make it home for the holidays, but I was spending my December in a tropical setting…with friggin’ palm trees, not pines…surrounded by swimsuits versus snow. Not exactly the climate for all the Christmas spirit to easily ooze from every picturesque pore. Do not get me wrong, I will never complain about being able to swim in the ocean, or wear a sundress with barefeet in the middle of winter, but there is something you miss (that feels almost out of body experience) when those Christmas carols begin to play over the radio of your car, as the AC is cranked full blast.

The entire month, once I embraced the fact that getting back to my family in NC was entirely out of the question, I focused on not focusing on the dreaded December 25^th. ( I had looked several times at the ticket prices skyrocketing before my very eyes as the inevitable day approached….telling myself * maybe * I would just smoke the Visa and surprise my sisters and little elven nieces.) However, I finally came to the conclusion that ‘smoking’ was the understatement of the year…at these prices, ‘Incineration’ was more like it. * Sigh *

So. Now. What?

My boyfriend, I could tell, was already worrying…although he is not by nature a worrying type at all, I know him well enough by now to see the telltale signs of unease that rarely registers in his physique. The furrowed brow, the watchful eye from afar (taking me in—measuring if and when a call to the local mental institution will be necessary, perhaps?), the ready and open arms—poised for the plethora of hugs that were no doubt needed (and mercifully supplied) as the season slowly slinked onward. Growing up in the islands, he had never really had the wintry wonderland (nor the Southern sweetness of home and over the top holiday hutzpah) Christmas experience in order to go through the withdrawal symptoms that I seemed to be suffering from. But I could tell he sympathized, albeit in a “Oh-my- gosh,-WTF-is-WRONG-with-her-and-is-she-gonna-snap-out-of-it-soon?!?!?” kind of a way.

The beautiful man even got to the point where he offered to send me home himself…a true gift and sacrifice…although the incineration of his plasticware was no more appealing to me either. Nope…it was decided we would just make the best of it…but how?

If any of you know me, you know I am one stubborn, hard-headed little sassafras (and proud of it!). So I figured all I needed to do, was decide and determine to be happy this holiday. That worked for, oh, I dunno—a day? And then that d**n radio dial would land on a Christmas carol that would knock me (and all of my self-assured optimism) flat on my a**! Back to square one…I realized I needed an entirely new and different plan of attack…and yes, it really was that way in my mind…a battle for my sanity---and to save Christmas from the depression monster, by gosh!

Plan B:

· I LET GO: of traditions, of memories I was clinging to—trying to recapture.

· I RELEASED: the frustration of feeling “stuck here” (in Paradise, no doubt---geez, andy beth)

· I GOT OVER: my expectations of how this Christmas thing “should be”—and over MYSELF.

· I DETERMINED: to embrace all that is GOOD, HERE AND NOW.

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It is December 26^th. And, miraculously, I was able to get home to spend yesterday with family. And no, it was not in NC…it was a house filled with surfers and pixies…seekers and so(ul)journers just like me…sisters and brothers who have chosen one another willingly…and for this reason, are connected in a deep and inexplicable bond---we CHOSE one another. We, living on this island out in the middle of the Pacific, far away from all we know as home and the comforts connected with it, seem to have realized that we need one another— and we cling to each other—lift one another up—rescue one another daily—a cohesive collection of crazy beach bums who have built a makeshift life raft in the midst of this ocean.

I swam in the sea. I built a SANDman. I wore my favorite sundress, and painted my bare toes a glittering red and gold. Christmas met me here and now….at home.

Allowance(s)~

Anybody remember allowances from growing up? I remember my friends having them...a certain amount of money *usually pretty modest* that their parents would allocate to them each week. Usually it involved an exchange of the green in return for domestic chores, or helping out in a number of ways. My friends would mostly use their funds for going to the movies, or clothes, or (once we hit middle school) “hot” dates ;) And man, those bowling alleys and arcades were off the hook! We were so cool...swingin' hipsters, I tell you~

As for me, I do not remember an allowance. I do recall regarding the concept of them as being a bit foreign. Even the name, "allowance" carries such a loaded and strange connotation to it. In my home, my sisters and I were simply expected to help around the house as members of the family. The thought of getting otherwise rewarded (besides a deeply felt "thank you!" from my amazing momasita) was equally as alien. If I wanted money for spending or something extra....(say...like perhaps meeting that smokin' boy at the mall and cruising around all TWO of the shops until our moms came to get us in the matching mini vans...around 9pm...* live it up!*) then I babysat, or found other odd jobs apart from regular washing of the dishes and keeping our family home clean. The funniest thing is that I don't remember being annoyed by this fact that I had no allowance. I felt it was not "owed" to me simply for helping my mom out around the house, and for being a contributing member of the family—pitching in wherever was needed.

Today I am thinking of adult allowance(s). I see many of them...but as adults we are no longer supplied by our parents, and it seems to be of a much different, and less tangible, genre of "green." As a (ahem) grown up, I feel I receive an allowance (of sorts) everyday...from the world. I see this presenting itself in various forms---as love, acceptance, encouragement, and affirmation, etc…

I also, at the ripe old age of 28, am looking at this allowance...of love, of acceptance, of encouragement, of affirmation...and beginning to ask myself...what is expected of me to earn such a sum this week? Is there a list someone could please post on the fridge? (You know, the kind with small checkboxes perhaps? Or a honeydew melon graphic on the top--sous smiley-faced green gourd attached?) No? Well that would be too simple and straightforward, then, wouldn’t it?

In our world, I wonder what the “acceptable” labor and toil required of me is/ would be….and I wonder if I secretly deep down feel the need to “earn” my allowance…or even worse, if I walk around with an attitude of being “owed” (and hence, demanding of the world) this allotment. Either attitude, I have a sneaking feeling, will get me a pittance (and a begrudging one at that).

So, I’ve a mind to do away with this whole allowance business! I believe it best if I follow the practice of my youth. I will have a deep awareness that (although most definitely worthy of provision and goodness) I am not “owed” anything by anyone. I will simply throw my full efforts into claiming my role as an integral and contributing (without reservation—or expectation) member of this non-biological brotherhood I satellite around daily. In turn, I will not feel this need to “earn” anything—for there will be no formal offering of payment.

It will be as before…my needs will be met…all that is required to sustain comes for those that are family…ohana…and who live, and move, and have their being as an integral piece of the whole. Seeking the “green” now takes on a whole new meaning:

G-rowth

R-efreshment

E-ncouragement

E-nrichment

N-ewness~

May we all have more than enough green to sustain us—never feeling owed—never having to earn—but rather stepping up, and serving up…as siblings~

Funk-y~

I woke up this morning and was met with warmth and sunshine. I knew today was the day for my Parc Guell. I dressed with trembling excitement…fingers fumbling over zippers, buttons and laces; distracted by what laid ahead. Then…realization—I am alone. This beautiful, blissful experience…el solo~

I slumped back down on my bed and contemplated (not gonna lie….for at LEAST 5 good minutes) burrowing back under the covers in an Eeyore-esque pile of goo. Can we say funk?

I glanced over at my bag—my trusty little camera peeking out at me. I saw her eyeing me, judging me, taunting me in her cheery little chirp: “Pile of Funk!” “Pile of Funk!”…

I giggled despite myself (fully intending to wallow in my loneliness and “woe is me” mentality, thank you very much…) and dragged my arse across the room to pick her up gently. She hummed to life and began a delightful dance through the days of my past, stepping gracefully to the trilling tunes stored in her memory—the waters of home, baking/barista beauties, lions in winter, communal cups of coffee, bonfires with brothers, swimming with sisters, best friend beauticians, sunrises with mothers at Kahana Bay, English nerds, Club dancing divas, Contra comrades, bands of bikers, and Hawaiian hippies. Tears of remembrance and fullness stung my eyes.

I gingerly placed you all in the palm of my hand…grateful fingers stretching to receive the full beauty and breath of you. I curled my tiny fist around you tightly…and held on.

We go~

And to the loneliness and “el solo” mentality?..........

“ Funk That”~

Spanish Rainbows~

Spanish Rainbows * I Thank You *

-The old, weathered men who meet for their daily domino tournament…thank you fellowship~

-My favorite of the domino contenders…smoking his cigar like clockwork from 10 til 2…thank you consistency~

-The vendor at the market with the shy smile; everyday she anticipates my visit and has my favorite yogurt and cheeses ready and wrapped in special paper…most days there is a surprise something sweet she has slipped in from her oven at home….thank you generosity~

-The children in the park, gleefully terrorizing the pigeons on Place Catalunya; their shrieks of sheer delight as they chase and scare the bejesus out of the birds…thank you explosive exuberance~

-The gnarled, wrinkled woman who emerges from the water, and nonchalantly mounts her bike and continues to pedal proud as a peacock down the crowded boardwalk: naked as the day she was born…thank you self-confidence~

-The metropolitan tenants with their rooftop gardens, planting and cultivating life—bringing nature and all the beauty it beckons, into the city…thank you growth~

-The young man from the Metro, giving his seat to the young mother whose arms * not to mention her mind * were filled to overflowing, and heavy…thank you recognition~

-The American tourist who offers a hefty sum to the haggard, street beggar on La Ramblas, no questions asked…thank you compassion~

-The trusty Mac computer, providing the link to home, and all the love that was left there…thank you connection~

-The camera Lam blessed me with, snatching snippets of time—so that I may share these beautiful moments to those who cannot see what I see…thank you thoughtfulness~

-The cheery yellow bike that ferries me along my journeys—sharing miles and miles of memories…thank you freedom and flight~

-James, a Godsend, satisfying my starving soul with friendship and grace…thank you companionship~

-The hundreds of prayers, comments and emails offered daily…continuous reminders that I am truly not alone, and that “you go with me”…thank you encouragement~

-The amazing adventure and opportunity that is this journey—the seeking of perspective, awareness, growth, and light…thank you experience~

-The breath I awaken with, that carries me throughout the day…thank you life~

Chicken Sits~

I have been thinking of the role of parenting often lately. Pretty much, wherever I look in life, it has been at the forefront of my mind. From taking joy in my closest friends’ (and family’s!) newly announced pregnancies, to both witnessing (and being a * not always welcoming * recipient of) parental “care and concern,”...it appears to flank me on all sides. J

I am at that magical age in life (actually, the more I think of it…when are we NOT?) when parents (and all other surrounding parties/ friends/ loved ones) feel the need to offer “help” and guidance in my “finding my way” in life. Whether it be relationship advice, financial planning tips, career guidance, or even the occasional * gasp * “intimacy admonishments”—our parents/ loved ones are always waiting and ready to pounce * ahem *--“gently” proffer their priceless pearls of wisdom~

Protection is one of the main themes I see flowing like a golden thread in the universal cosmic connection that people (parents especially) all share with one another in relating to their loved ones. Yes, protection—that dogged desire to tenaciously guard those we love from any and all possible and unknown threats…even when they have not asked for it…and quite often when they altogether vehemently oppose it!

A chance encounter that I had the blessing of happening upon strikes a vivid picture and analogy for this concept in my mind. About a week ago, I had traveled across the island to drop off a friend at his house. He lives out in the country, and as I rode up and parked in the driveway, I noticed in the corner of my view a mother hen surrounded by a cackle of baby chicks.

He had to go inside to pick up a few things, and I settled in to wait for him. As I waited, I kept my eye on the small processional of poultry that was making their way towards my vehicle. Remembering I had my camera in my backpack, I unbuckled my seatbelt to reach for it. At that moment, the mother, upon hearing the click, frantically placed herself in between my car and her babies…one by one, she clamored to collect her offspring beneath the folds of her feathers. The babies seemed mostly annoyed and frustrated with her antics. Some even appeared frightened by the vehemence in the execution of her protective instincts. The mother would chase and scoop, hem and holler…and then actually SIT on top of the chicks as she bore them to her breast. Try as they might to escape, the mother was dogged in her efforts and eventually grappled them all, managing to cover them within the safe confines of her person completely. As the drama unfolded, I was just taking it all in—realizing how much we have in common…poultry and people~

As I continued to watch, I ran the gamut of emotions. I was at once humored, saddened, angered, puzzled, and enlightened. I FELT and empathized with the baby chickens…the frustration, the oppression, the confinement (they were being SMOTHERED by gosh!) I know all too well that desperate desire to run away and just be FREE! (I also know what it feels like to sense someone sitting (or sh**tng!) on you)…not good….not good at all~

To be fair, however, I also sensed and empathized with the mother hen’s situation…she perceived danger and was attempting to do everything in her power to keep her babies safe. Her desire to nurture, to protect at all costs, to have her children’s best at heart and pursue that best violently…courageously….FIERCELY even—is breathtakingly beautiful and awe-inspiring to me.

My companion returned and I regretfully started the ignition, pulling into reverse. As I backed the car away, I strained to watch the little family as long as I could.

The last I was able to see, the bittersweet struggle still ensued…

All Clear~

Oh, this morning! Oh, this morning!

I woke up with the sun. "Merry Christmas!" was on my lips and a smile adorned my cheeks. *Cue crashing realization that I, indeed, was scheduled to work today.* --Shoulders Sag--Audible Sigh (okay, maybe it was more like an agonized groan)--Hands on Hip--and yes, there was also one (or two?) stamped feet. Oh, this Morning! Ugh, this morning!

As I scanned the room, what would catch my eye but my Ziploc full o' zazzle! I clutched desperately for the small pouch of glitter (the one that I keep on hand for such times as this....you know, those dire emergencies...) Oh, salvation of sparkle! --Do please redeem my bad attitude from this pit of self pity~ (And it did!) I decided to take it one step further and go all out (none of you should be surprised by this one bit), as I rocked the festive green and gold glitter tagteam today....so I pretty much (if we are using our imaginations--having the red hair, coupled with the green and gold glow--was my own friggin' Christmas ornament!) Oh, this morning! Glow, this morning!

At work the patrons were in full holiday spirit. The families file through the gallery...fathers holding their children's hands, babies clutching their mothers and napping in their strollers. All are jolly and bright, out and about after a sweet time of togetherness unwrapping gifts, reading the Christmas story and discovering who Santa deemed "good" this year. The gush of good spirits is overwhelming, rushing over me like a tidal wave. It is beautiful to see. It is painful to feel. Oh, this Morning. Alone, This morning.

I could sense tiny tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. I quickly reached up to paw away the proof of my self-indulgent "sorrow." As I looked down at my hands again, I see I have smudged my glitter....I was covered in resplendent sparkles, but all I could see was green. Oh, this Morning. Low, this morning.

I asked myself if I was indeed, my own little version of the "green eyed monster"...was it jealousy that was presently creeping its way in and blackening my heart? Not exactly....but I wanted to place what was bothering me. I was not begrudging of the people their time shared in rest and vacation with their families and loved ones, nor was I angered by the fact that I was having to work on Christmas day. No, I realized that what I was envious of, was that all of those people coming through those doors, once they bought their pastries and drinks, would make their way home together. For the first time this day I realized that the sights and sounds that were assaulting my eyes were not the people themselves, but rather what they symbolized to my heart....*home.* I looked around at the girls I work with--the fatigue that furrowed each brow--the frustration of finding themselves taken away from loved ones in order to serve strangers--yet, simultaneously, upon closer examination, I also witnessed the team effort and human spirit that rallied as each sought to stave off the spirit of negativity in order to bless and love all who entered in to their small sphere of influence. I saw in this moment, that we were all in this together...and that joy and peace was *and had to be* within each of us. Oh, this morning. Home, this morning.

I left work and got to my apartment. It had been a long day...yet a good one. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. I bent my face towards the water and felt its cool, cleansing kiss upon my cheeks. As it washed over me, I opened my eyes to watch as the swirling green remnants disappeared. I willed myself to continue my gaze until the all the green was gone...