Alii Makua~

He is a mysterious little lion-man, and not particularly fond of being held.
Rather,
He would be out and about,
Running, exploring, discovering what lies there beyond the yard,
and its tall, green jungle grasses.

When the sun is out,
he will stretch out his sinewy self,
elongating his graceful feline form
up, up and out...
toes curling,
paws pulsing...
out, in, out, in---reaching for his mother's milk....
even though she has long since left.

It's as if sometimes he will forget this absence,
and experience it anew all over again.
Opening his golden, orbed eyes,
aware~

It is a rare jewel,
those instances when he deems me safe enough,
warm enough,
permanent enough, perhaps?
That he allows his personage to plop down in my lap,
nuzzle my neck,
and lets in love.
These are magical moments---rare as moonbeams,
and fleeting just as fast.

I cherish these sweet snippets of softness...when you know you are safe, and you let me in.

*Allow me to introduce Alii Makua....know him, love him.... just don't fence him in~

Flexibility--and flinching~

"Flexibility" is my F-word.

You know how when you were a little kid (or if you are like my adorable mom, well into your….ah….late thirties...coughs) when you utter those choice words, you lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, a hushhhhhhed, humming helluva utterance that is emitted with feeling...

Yes, flexibility ranks high up there in my vault of (oh so "uh-oh") vocab. As with its more common F-bomb counterpart, even hearing its name audibly can cause my entire body to physically react—shrinking away from its ugly frame, as if I have been struck by a blunt force trauma to the brain. Shivers run up and down my spine as I take the spoken word and slice it apart slowly.

After the initial shock (and retro-active, repugnant revulsion) experienced the moment the entity hits my eardrums, comes the secondary (less immediate—and decidedly more calm) reaction of a running back strategizing my next crucial move. (please do notice the term, RUNNING…lest the irony not be missed here)… My instinct is to flee, creating as much distance between this F-word as is humanly possible—and with the utmost speed! Yet, I am learning to fight this panicked, cowardly urge more often than not these days, and plant my twinkle toes firmly in the hot, Hawaiian sand—and let ‘em burn….melting away that manic mentality as well—the one shouting oh so loud to turn, leave, go, run, and hide from (whispers) the dreaded …CHANGE.

And, as each day I fight that temptation to flee, I grow:

Stronger.

Braver.

Calmer.

Fuller.

Freer.

So I’d like to finish this post with a better F-word….freedom…from worry and fret, and from creating ghosts for the future (as I do believe the past has plenty of its own to account for)….and I say bump them all (insert Ross and Monica’s double-fist dramatic diss move (with great hutzpah and pizzazz!) here________ boom boom !))

The Morning Mehs~

Maybe it’s the holidays. Maybe it’s the break neck pace. Maybe it’s the (whispers)… menses :/

But whatever it is, it was operating in full force this morning as “it” proceeded to wreak havoc on my mental state, paying complete and total disregard for my usual upbeat personality with which I greet the day. The brilliant sunrise, the piping hot cup of morning java, even the toasty warm weather did nothing to dispel…this cranky state in which I came to dwell.

A run. Yes, that’s the ticket. Always a run will refresh anything within me feeling dead…so off we go~ Lacing up the shoes, tugging on my tank, and prepping the ponytail…wide open road, I am ready for you. First step, followed by second stride---now breathe. BREATHE~

The first mile is always the hardest…my muscles aren’t awake yet either…and by the inaudible cries of shrill protest, paired with an irate sense of gross injustice at being drug from their deep slumber and warm bed for this brisk (and brutal) outing—they appear to be non too pleased with this parlay into the pre-dawn paradise of Hawaii’s roadsides. "Shhh" I soothe, as I try to assure them (as well as my brain—which is also putting up quite a fight) that it will feel better soon.

And yes, slowly but surely, as I push through…the muscles begin to let go, I feel them stop resisting, and rallying the troops to work with me…and flow. Likewise, my brain braves the battle of “giving it up”--you know, the worry, the stress, the everything. Gradually, as my legs lift and lengthen, my heart regulates itself to a steady and true beat---thud, thud, thud. My feet somehow match the rhythm—thud, thud, thud-- and all becomes atune—an amazing harmony that heals.

As I continue, the emails waiting to be replied to, the proposal from the client that needs reworking, the latest “misunderstanding” I had with my person, or the helpful, constructive criticism (ah, “advice”) I recently received (unsought of course…) –they melt away—replaced by a myriad of mixed emotions:

Physical Exhaustion.

Mental Limits Reached.

Detoxification.

Purification.

Release.

And I realize again why I run. Sometimes I need to get so tired, that I can't fight myself anymore. And I "get it." I let go, and I realize I am just too damn tired to handle anything else but lying there, with open palms, and letting every other mother 'effin thing pass away...as I listen...and let go.

One day I will figure a way to get to this point of priceless perspective and healing honesty without the need to pound the pavement first…and I do, at times--in moments of shining self-awareness and acceptance, but it is a process…and I know everyday, as I continue to put one foot in front of the other…stride after stride…I am making my way “here”.

Mele Kakalacky~

Thanksgiving has come and gone here in the islands, and as the holiday season progresses, I am riding a tropical tide of emotions….all within a day I run the gamut from hot to cold…high to low, and everything in between. I will leave my hale, close my door, and look upon its bare bamboo (mom always had the best wreathes…boasting broad, balsam boughs pungent with the scent of pine). Sensing the familiar swell of sadness, I forge ahead, one foot in front of the other down my porch steps, and break into the bright Hawaiian sunshine—its warmth creating a gracious and welcome “wonderland” entirely suited to this sun-lovin' gypsy rose. I sigh in remembrance and thanks as I peer down at my bare toes peeping through my sandals—in late November.

Continuing on, I pass my landlady’s porch, freshly decorated with their holiday arbor. As I breathe in the balmy scent of the Christmas pine, and survey the scene---a turvy of tinkling lights, mobile, dancing reindeer and god-awful florescently lit, life-size Santa baubles….I am transported back, an ocean away, to my childhood in North Carolina. I can almost hear the lilting voices of the carolers spreading cheer—can almost see those same small smoke signal shafts of air sent swirling through the frosty evening air as they belted out their holiday harmonies in one accord.

I scurry faster to the car, I cannot afford to linger longer. I rev the engine and back out, pulling myself together and reminding my heart of the fact that I am presently on my way to a wondrous, Waimea swim---in late November. I then take a breath, and count to three. One…Two…Thrrrrr…..and then it begins…the radio crackles to life and (of course) the first thing I hear…”It’s Beginning to Look A lot Like Christmas!”…..(and I have to correct the faceless voices, ummm NOOO it’s not :/ Utterly annoyed (only because I realize how very much I wanted them to be telling me no lies!) I reach down to switch the station….and...okay, this is more like it… wafting through the radio waves is:

‘“Mele Kalikimaka" is the thing to say,
On a bright Hawaiian Christmas Day,
That's the island greeting that we send to you
From the land where palm trees sway,
Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright,
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night,
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii's way
To say "Merry Christmas to you."’

Oh…the roller coaster of emotions at Christmas! I want off this train!

So…today I have decided to get creative….go crazy….be crafty…and bring the best of both of my lives and loves and homes this holiday. Here in Hawaii we say “Mele Kalikimaka”….but this southern girl from "North Kakalacky" has still got some roots running deep.

*To all those who I am missing this holiday, just know I am representin’ from the islands, and am ever grateful in my heart for you, especially this season.

This is my winter song to you…

http://vimeo.com/32793293

Kika Belle~

She's a work in progress...

and she's beautiful~


http://vimeo.com/32616127

Beautiful to me~

Apple orchards. Pumpkin and Peppermint. Firewood burning. Smoke rising over the Blue Ridge. Fall colors fading. Meredith. My other half. Sophie. Justine. Susan. Momasita. Bubba Roo. Asheville. Mountain Java. Sweater weather. Big bed. Jacuzzi tub. Hugs. Kisses. Blue Ridge Mountain folks. Brueggers mornings. Tea time with the girls. SISTA time. Britainy. Jo-jo. A real HOMEY home. Sleeping in a bed. Nana bean. Julie, Britainy, and new babies…pretty preggy ladies. Snowy walks. Hot tea. COFFEE. Greenlife. Mountain men—with bushy beards.….Stinky patchouli hippies (I swear those rock crystals do NOT work)…go for the DEO! Artists and musicians…libertarians…fruitarians. Readers and dancers and mosaic makers. Contra Dancing. Warren Wilson. Drum circles. Art festivals. Farmers Markets. Downtown on Friday nights. Open Mics. Vegan voo doo. Karma crazies. ASHEVILLE. Brothers-in-law…brothers in all. Laughter. Warmth. Family. Holidays. Peppermint Tea. Freedom to be me. Love. Affection. Kiddos. Elven children. Rainbow mountains. Movies. Libraries. Ma mere. Tight –wrinkle-ruffle shirts from Amherst county fairs…and the women who sell them. Maloprops. Fresh Market. LIGHT. Christmas. Thanks/giving.

You are beautiful to me….more and more each day I am away~

My Kika~

So I’ve been missing home a lot these days. “Home,” as in….those blue ridge mountains of the Carolinas—and the small group of beautiful, quirky cooks I call kin. It seems everywhere I turn lately I am reminded of something I miss about that majestic mountain valley. Pumpkin coffee emerging at the island 711…is not exactly Mountain Java’s cup o’ joe. Holiday lights strung along the palm tree lanes of Waikiki—smell nothing like pine to me, and frequenting the ONE pumpkin patch on the west side of da ‘aina just doesn’t feel quite right in my spaghetti strap sundress at a toasty 85 degrees.

Yes, I love, love, love my island ohana and community, but how very much do I ache for my family….extending all the way up to ma mere in Virginia, and that peaceful farmhouse that was my haven for so long. On days when I get more wistful, I have chosen to fight, to pick the present—and to peer through eyes of gratitude at this paradise---my place. I still miss the tea kettle whistling, the call of the contra with my feet tapping and skirt swirling, tinkling, elfin giggles of two pretty princess nieces as they scribble the sidewalks with chalk—and mostly their loving earth goddess mama, my picture of who I pray I can mirror more each day.

This mindset was mine as I walked the streets of Waikiki this last week…*the STREETS, not the CORNER, mind you….and I saw something catch my eye…yes, she WAS on the corner, in fact though...

A crappy, old, stringless, guitar was laying on the edging outskirts of an impromptu “garage sale.” She wasn’t pretty, and she certainly wasn’t useful at present…tossed aside in the hopes that some schmuck would come and actually put down some dough for the delight of taking this hunk of junk home. *Allow me to introduce myself….

And allow me to introduce her: my kika~

Over the course of the next two months, I am going to be loving her, getting to know her, cleaning her up, taking care of her, and making her sing, one day at a time. Yesterday, I took her to the "spa"….she has been exfoliated and buffed…and I can already tell she felt more beautiful--with each passing stroke of the sandpaper…she knows she has been seen—the potential—is present, and we go~

In two months it is Christmas. My gift to her is renewed life, and a new voice. My gift to me is a renewed voice—IN my new life. A thankful trill coming from the depths of a heart reminded--I am a woman most blessed...alone or surrounded with sisters...still or swaying amid a party of people...most blessed, indeed.

Mahalo, Kika Belle, I see you.

Autumn in the Islands~

Aloha Autumn.

You were missed.

E Komo Mai~

Small Wisdom.

Things Kids Say~

Have you ever been truly astounded by something surprisingly profound a small child has said to you? It happened to me today…as it admittedly often does. But this time was different…it was so fitting…so welcomed….so right.

As I was leaving my studio, the little neighbor girl runs up to me and tugs on my skirt. I look down into her big blue eyes and wait with patient expectation of forthcoming actual words *and an eventual end to the frantic tugging that is presently threatening to disrobe me. And I wait…still going…there…”Aunt Andy (tug, tug) …igotstatellyousumfin!”

I wait..(tug, tug) “itsumfinreeeeeelyimpawtunt….I need to ask!” Still waiting. “Have you ever had this, this THING right in the pit of your tummy, chewing away at you, HURTING you, and you just can’t seem to get it gone? And you just KNOW that you need to have it not inside anymore…so you can stop hurting?!”

Whoa. Talk about profound. I stare wide-eyed at this small kid, and wonder at her intuitiveness, her insight into my deepest heart these days. Yes. I know that feeling. Yes. I have been there. Yes. Sometimes it feels like I live there. I want to respond with so much, yet curb myself…and I just nod and reply, “Ellie, I know exactly how you feel, sweetheart. Want to talk about it?”

She jumps up and gets one millimeter from my nose….and shouts exultingly “YOU ate too much macaroni and cheese last night too?!?!?!?” “I don’t think there is anything to say, but mommy says I just need to poo!”

As I smile and walk away, I am reminded that maybe I had slightly overestimated the depth of wisdom of my little neighbor…but then again…maybe not. I realize there IS commonality there….it all rings true. The ending remains…sometimes you just need to get rid of the crap, get it gone~

Yes please~

Quills~

The prickliest of small species, a coat of unremarkable hue.

Soft haired, smooth to the touch, soothing to the stroke.

But mixed within, are needle-like nametags.

Cautionary cue cards, warning…

I am no easy meal.

Maybe I once was,

Softer

Malleable

Open.

Now there are sharp spines

Protecting A Spine.

Quills of defense,

Wielding ink,

Warding off all vulnerability

with timid tenacity,

formidable fear.

I am sharp.

always alert.

I will be ready the next time

will keep myself safe.

Safe if I anticipate...

safe if he keeps his distance, and lets me be

For these downy daggers can’t be shot, as some believe.

You’ve to touch me.

Often wished I could be as a wasp

Enough venom for once…and then all is pau.

Yet, I will regrow these quills..and scatter the casualties among the lost.

Fear is my friend…preserving life.

Fear is my foe…preventing life.

I am a porcupine.