Vive Le Difference!

Yesterday I woke up, planning on meeting up with Ari for an early AM tennis match. Any of you who know me, know I cherish my mornings, sacrificing copious amounts of sleep, all for the sake of never missing one single, sparkling sunrise. For me, I guess, it’s the symbol of starting everything afresh, a brand new beginning of one 24 hour cycle of possibility….an open hand just waiting to be filled, and held. There is something sacred about rising while the rest of the world is still asleep…reveling in the wonder of a new day’s dawning, and simply renewing hope…intentioning goodness beneath the shadow of the sun’s warm rays bursting forth—beckoning you to come, and live. Yes, mornings are my favorite friends.

I told Ari I would meet him after the sunrise, making my way to my local coffeeshop and picking up a cup o’ joe to go. As I sat waiting, I delighted in the sole company of my thoughts, the cool breeze of the early morning, and the lulling ebb and flow of the ocean’s waves. I have realized I like alone time….I believe I need it more than others I know. In fact, at times when I find it scarce or hard to come by in my life, I find myself physically aching to just get back to that solitude, that shelter of serenity and solace, found only (for me at least) when I am truly alone, breathing and being myself. I do not worry about what my countenance looks like, no words need be spoken, and the silence is sweet, and sustains me for the times to come, when the din and clamor of the world become a cacophony almost unbearable to my senses. THIS is what makes my days…aloha subtle sunrise. I see you peeking over the horizon, and I welcome you to this day…do stay for awhile.

Filled, I make my way to Ari and we head to the tennis courts, fully prepared to beat the crap out of each other (with love, of course). I am excited, this is one of the few activities we seem to really like doing together, and otherwise we do our own things and meet up when we can…so this was going to be a rare treat. We pull up to the park, anticipation filling our hearts…only to find the courts closed for maintenance! BOOOO. I am bummed, because I know this was a small window of time I had to share with Ari before we both had to go to work and the day set into full swing. I plan on going hiking instead, and Ari decides to come along. So any of you who know me (again) will also know I very much like going hiking ALONE. I treasure the time just me versus the mountain, testing my strength and climbing, climbing, climbing…listening to that mountain…tell me what I’m made of…and what it’s all about. So for me to go with Ari was already a miracle in itself. I wondered how it would be, but was happy he wanted to share time, so off we went.

We got there and the minute we got out of the car and the trail lay open before us, I felt the adrenaline surging, the effervescent energy that always comes with being outdoors in the sunshine bubbling up within me, and I felt breathless and giddy with the thought of what joys lay ahead! I wanted to go, go, go! Woo hoo! As we set off, and were talking, I realized I was already nosing ahead, like a wild horse who’s just been bridled for the first time and isn’t sure she likes it, but still wants to have that connection with the new owner….so she submits to the temporary discomfort, trying to learn the new ways. Ari, bless his beautiful heart, felt this…and knew his peaceful pace of meandering through the wilderness (which provides him with the utmost joy) is a bit of a snoozefest for his fairy companion…who wanted to fly away fast, and free. He urged me ahead and gave me the green light to simply GO.

And I did.

I went. And ran. And reveled in the beauty. And giggled and oohed and ahhed at the wonder of it all. Free to go at my own pace, I climbed, climbed, climbed…the crisp mountain air filling my lungs. My heart beat faster and faster, and I laughed….alone on top of that towering mound of earth, I melted into the most rich and full hysterics…of happiness. And I thanked God for friends and loved ones, who know me, and allow me my "eccentricities" of individuality, and echo my exultant cry from man to woman to fairy to warrior….from milkman to lawyer to JHi and Pdizzle and Good N’ Plenty (or M&M or whatever his name is)… "Vive Le Difference.”

Dear B~

Dear B,

I must apologize if you were confused by my beehavior this last week. I did not mean to send you mixed messages. I had heard of your reputation from your godmother, and she just sang your praises. I couldn’t wait to meet you. But then I also have experienced others of your kind, and have felt the sting when things have gone awry. Forgive me, for I was afraid.

I visited you…journeyed far to your home, and all the while great anticipation filled my heart. I wanted (and still want) to learn all there is to know about you, and here was my chance. When I first heard your voice…I was mesmerized…the vibration of your lilt lulled my senses and I knew right then…you were something special. Your scent took my breath away…a rich, earthy aroma…one I have never known before….I can’t quite find a word deep or wide enough to embody the fragrance of your form. It is just…magical…it leaves me finding myself leaning forward always, on an endless search for the wind to carry the wonder of you back to me…desiring an ever-stronger scent to fly to me forever.

I listened to your voice from a distance for several moments, and I basked in the balmy, heady haven of your aromatic essence…I drank you in…but dared not come closer. I can tell you speak a different language than my own native tongue. I cannot place the origin of your homeland…or else I would run and read every book I could find, if it lead me to a translation of your truth(s). But no, you are not conversing in common English, nor do you talk in Turkish, or a romantic European dialect. Yours is an ancient tongue of old, and I long to hear it more and more....that I may speak with you fully, and understand what you would whisper in my ear. I have an inkling that this is a language I cannot study per se, and one unmarked by time or space…but rather an eternal awareness of its always being….HERE, and known... somehow. I await the whispers to make sense to me…and until they do, I will sit in stillness…coming ever closer…to hear them clear as bells. Bells ringing in my ears…buzzing through my brain….healing my heart.

Next time, I promise to come closer…I will fight the fear, put away the preconceived….and sit with you awhile~

The Art Of Beeing~

I learned the art of bee-ing today. Beekeeping that is.

Somewhere, along Oahu’s Eastern shores, a small section of land-- a hidden Hawaii garden may be found. Nestled in the shadows of the Koolau Mountains, wild integrity winds its way as a golden thread; the sweetness of the honey from its combe paling in stark comparison to the rich, wondrous satiety found in the company of fellow sojourners…come to see….simply how to be(e).

Make your way down the winding drive, surrounded on all sides by vast valley views and the looming, misty mountains of Old Hawaii *and don’t mind Mani…he is just the resident sheep…he’ll not bite. Nor allow yourself to be distracted by the strut of the rooster hoping his swagger will sway your fancy. *I must admit he is quite dashing~

Are you hungry? How about an avocado? Tiptoes now…reach for it…that one, there…yes, that’s the one! Feel its bumpy skin give a little, your thumbprint indelibly leaving its impression until you can stand it no more, slice the juicy goodness in half and devour its luscious innards. Dessert soon follows….mountain apples abound…bananas also beg to be picked and sampled. Go on, feel free~

Swing wide the gate, and enter in…welcome. Yes, this was the imperative invitation: Well, come.

And it did.

Daien, the beekeeper of beauty and grace, ushered us into this world today. A world of order, of diligence, of peaceful productivity, and an animal orb of orchestrated energy and divine design. Busyness here is beautiful, and blessed. Work is not said as if it is spelled with four letters…it is sung, and held out and continued in one elongated breath as if it were one eternal syllable.

This world’s inhabitants themselves are neither friendly nor hostile…they are simply living and working. They live and breathe…coexist…create and birth their own royalty…protect themselves from outsiders…even kill their own kind on occasion. They survive. They thrive…. And they will eventually die. They are not safe, but they are lovely. They are not unsafe, but they will sting you. They are.

They create a magical manna….a golden goodness dripping from the catacombs of their closeknit colonies…and we devour its nourishing essence as if starved souls in search of the sustenance that can be found only in its sticky sweetness. One taste and we are ruined for all other imitations… unheeding decorum and all manners, attracted to its sultry scent we lose our heads…it dribbles down our chins…we lick our hands in hope of catching any final remnants of its joyful juices. It is honey, and it is good~

Indeed, I learned the art of being today~

Bee itch~

Last week I met a Beekeeper….yes, a real life beekeeper…and she…OH! woman full of worldly travels and hard-won wisdom that she is, has lived several lifetimes and has yet to stop sojourneying! When I met her, I was so excited to have been introduced to an actual beekeeper…for some reason I have always been fascinated by this trade….and have likened it to the mysteriously lovely keepers of the lighthouse of long ago, or ferry men that used to row the boats back and forth across rivers, or bipartisan politicians….you know, all of those things you always heard were “out there” in this world at one point and time, but never actually got to see for your own very eyes….and here she was…earth-goddess-mama-beekeeper-shining-light-lady~

I still can’t pronounce her name (it is that cool), and I am sure it means something amazing profound and enlightening….I am quite sure in fact. I have only heard a short snippet of her story, but oh what a story it is…and tomorrow I am going to her farm to meet the bees, and to sit at her feet and just soak up her stories like a sponge….schluuuuuuuurp~

She tells me that much can be learned from bees…about our life, about ourselves, about divine order, everything and nothing... and much, much more.

I look forward to introducing myself to these makers of honey, and teachers of life….and very much look forward to being educated about all therein. Perhaps they can enlighten me (since they are surrounded by it on the daily) on the art to dealing with sweetness, yet not letting it overpower you…on diligence and teamwork, and not killing one another in these cramped colonies and honeycombs, on daily making their way about without getting mired down by the stickiness of it all…

Scratch.

Good morning sunshine, and thus my 30^th year on this earth begins…

Armed with a cup of coffee and pen poised….I remember.

I remember the return from Europe, where I came home from a fairytale…to a fairytale. The trip that taught me so very much about other cultures; different countries; myself----and the elusive concepts of “home” and “family.” The journey that opened my eyes to how very little I knew, and yet how very wise I can be, if I allow myself the space and time…and really look closely. Stop to feel that still, small voice—those inner words of (whispers) “wisdom.” Wisdom hard earned and costly…but wisdom nonetheless.

I recollect this exact same day last year vowing to myself adamantly that I indeed WOULD NOT be residing in my same humble jungle abode next year…only to waken today as I look around my same small “shanty by the sea” adamantly grateful to simply still be here, in Hawaii, safe and (most importantly!) roommate free!

I recall the people who have come and gone this year. Some steady satellites, orbiting around me always…yet never quite in my tangible physical realm…yet I feel them all the same…daily, surrounding me. Some are constant companions…the daily phone calls and the text messages just reaching out to “touch base” and let me know I am being thought of. The “community coasters”….those who I see at the grocery store, or the Farmer’s Market….we are cordial in passing; they remember my face always; I genuinely like them; they won’t recall my name tomorrow. And my person, my best friend, who is the last conversation at the end of the day…assuring me that I am not alone in this world…even when it may feel like it.

This year I have sold coffee with a smile (and some rockin’ glitter), slung hash (Lord, please never again), traveled the world like a solo gypsy rose, written copious amounts of “creative writing,” ---sold an article or two or three (sprinkled here and there,) and even landed myself a real, (albeit at times snoozefest) of a steady job…and I have reached that day (yes, today) of sitting here in my room and thinking to myself……

*Damn, it is quiet in here...

*I am sure I have some work I could be doing right now...

*My nose is running...

*My nose itches...

*My heart itches....

I will scratch…and silence this itch~

Ariday's Waltz~

Now speech mirrors thought

Mind-chards, Riddles, rhymes, Haiku

I left the light on

Smiles saccharin, won’t blink

Smokes that cigarette, close-shaved

Brazilian wax figure

Steel blue eyes, ignite

Campfire lit circle of three

Whistling tea kettle

Chants, beautiful sound

Message lost in translation

I left the door cracked

Looking back, beauty

Dark and light contrast, today

Awakens to life

I dreamt a sweet dream

Lovely, I swayed to the tune

My ariday’s waltz

Simplicity is

Love offered, returned, and shared

LIFE whispers you Home.

Poetry for naked people~

Beat up. Beat down. Beating.

This battered mix. Emotions. Fever. Pounding. Pounded …

flat.

A liquid, runny....running

Batter.

Tossed over the flames..

Heated. Flipped. Upside down. Bubbles over. Changes form...until it's "done"

Doused in sticky syrup…that strangling sweetness.

Succumbs to the sugar…swims in it. Soaks in it. Drowns in it.

This apparent divinity….strangling.

Sleepy, lethargic. numb.

Bleeding beauty, holes in this…holds in this….holiness.

Transitory heart, may you find your home.

Unpack your bags, undress. Find solace in the nakedness.

Wash your hands. Let down your hair. Look Him in the eye.

He sees life in you. Light in you. Good and right in you.

Longing heart, pieces are scattered.

You are battered.

You are blessed.

You are wholeness.

Walk in this

Newness~

Preach It~

Once again, my mother has blessed me with an introduction to a book both encouraging and challenging. I am currently reading Ann Voskamp’s book “One Thousand Gifts,” and as I do so, I am uplifted, my soul buoyed to the surface of sustaining truth. Yet, at the same time, I am cut to the quick, humbled at the (at times) harshness of the reality of what I am reading. And I am understanding that truth is not always comfortable….that truth can hurt…but that truth, it always heals.

In this book, through the author’s eyes and words…and her unabashedly honest recollection of a journey through the valleys of one life...with its deep, dark furrows and gullies characterized by one common denominator…ingratitude. I am trying to place my finger on why this book moves me so, and at such a season in my life as it came to cross my heart’s path. The best I can verbalize is that the author has recognized her ingratitude….yet she is not wallowing in a pool of guilt over it…she is naming it and calling it out. Unearthing it from the depths of her innermost being…and renaming what she first saw as fear, or simple lack of faith..into what was really the root…lack of gratitude. I am stopped in my tracks as I read her words….yet they have been my words too:

“Though I can hardly whisper it, I live as though He stole what I consider rightly mine: happiest children, marriage of unending bliss, long, content, death-defying days. I look in the mirror, and if I’m fearlessly blunt—what I have, who I am, where I am, how I am, what I’ve got—this simply isn’t enough. That forked tongue darts daily and I live the doubt, look at my reflection, and ask: Does God really love me?”

The premise of this book was a challenge given to the author (a farmer’s wife, and stay at home mother of 6) to simply make a list of 1,000 gifts in her life. As I read her words, I see the transformation…and I am healed in those tucked away corners of my hurting heart…when she lists “Jam piled high on toast” or “Little, lisped prayers”…my heart swells with it….the recognition of His goodness. The blessings in the mundane, that aren’t mundane at all. Showing me that in the simplest things, the sacred still can be found.

This book is literally a work that breathes life into one’s soul in the reading of it. It is not a hard concept to grasp: give thanks. And receive (and recognize) the abundance all around…swirling in sweet, sustaining winds…whispering the wonder of it all, this life, this time we have…I don’t want to waste in blindness anymore. For I see now:

“I have lived the runner, panting ahead in worry, pounding back in regrets, terrified to live in the present, because here-time asks me to do the hardest of all: just open wide and receive”~

As I read, I realize how simple it could be to read and even receive beautiful truths...these priceless pearls of light and resurrection life—only to shelve them, collect them…let them sit and stagnate, as I gaze up at them in admiration. I speak of them to others, and praise the virtue of their wisdom…yet I do not LIVE them.

So I go, today…now…and take my final cue from the author.

“I do what I always need to do. I preach it. I preach it to the person I need to preach to the most. I preach to me.”

GIVE THANKS~

Really free...

I have often heard that old saying: “You don’t get something for nothing.” Well for me, this morning, I witnessed the far reaching impact of this quote on our world’s belief system.

The day started out like any other normal day. Mondays is my Waikiki office day. I rise in the pre-dawn darkness for a quick run, a shower, and to scoot to catch the express bus into town. I was tired and sleepy, and not feeling the commute, but off I went. Two and a half hours later (bleh) and here I was in Waikiki, with two hours to go before I even am able to begin my full day of work….it’s gonna be a Loooooong day. Get in line and am doing my thing, and he walks up to stand beside me in line. You know him. That guy. The too-loud-talking, too-close-standing, too-much-cologne-wearing, too-much-EVERYTHING guy.

As he (smiling ear to ear) nonchalantly scoots closer to get a better look at the.....ahem…case of pastries….I politely return a cursory smile, then proceed to scoot myself as far in the opposite direction as the line will allow. Undeterred, Smiley nicely comments on my pretty purple dress and how it matches my nails AND shoes. At first I act as if I do not hear, as I am intently studying the menu…the sizes can be tricky at Starbucks, you know….tall is actually a small, grande isn’t the largest size as you might think, and so on… …really, one must focus…really ;)

When no reaction was received, Smiley steps closer, enshrouding me amid a cloud of cologne that sends my stomach lurching…* or maybe that was the combo of cologne and his hot breath I felt just cross my face * yes, that was definitely a factor… I decide finally that this mister is definitely not going anywhere, and in a moment of shame for my previous “rudeness” and lack of cordiality (my southern mama would chide me to be sure!) I decide that Pono must be practiced! So I turn to him and engage him with a disarming smile and tell him a very sincere thank you, and that is kind of him to say, fully feeling like the paranoid jerk that I must be (Andy, he was just being a nice guy, why are you so uptight, sister?!?!?) And, fully ashamed of myself, I said a quick prayer to help me be more pono today and then followed that with one last friendly smile at the gentlemen, and then the standard, telltale sendoff that is universal to all that the convo is OVER: “You have a nice day!” *and turn the back * Ah. Sigh of relief….well fielded!

But….no. Alas, no. Smiley had to take it that last step…asking (and inching…) if EVERYTHING (wink, wink!) matches. Frozen, I turn slowly just to make sure I have hear right (Surely not!)…and not until I catch his eye…and, elevators go up, elevators go down…and then that eyebrow. Yes, I was right…cad. I send him a withering look that lets him know he will NOT be receiving an answer to his cute little query THIS morning, at least not from this braud! And I turn, feeling very world-weary and drained, and grab my cup of coffee and scurry to the furthest corner I can to enjoy my joe in silence…and solitude!

It had not been five minutes (really, FIVE) until out of the corner of my eye I see a haggard, homeless man staring at me from the window….it was unnerving to say the least. Shifting in my chair, I tried to avoid eye contact. And then, yes, he opens the door to the store, and of all the chairs (all open as it is 5am mind you) he comes and sits right beside me. I take a breath and prepare myself, saying a quick prayer to be gracious when he begs me for something. I am ready for him…I mean, why else would he have set SO CLOSE to me when so many other chairs are open? He does not give me much time to wonder or prepare, as he looks me straight in the eye, and with the smallest whisper, asks if he may sit awhile…assuring me that he doesn’t want to bother me…and that he means no harm, but if he sits here in this corner he will be okay because, “the lady who takes people’s money doesn’t like me too much…because I don’t spend much money here. But I don’t smell bad…I just got me a shower at the beach…I promise…I won’t bother you I swear, miss..”

Good God, the pain I felt in my chest, coupled with the utter self-loathing I felt on my inner heart was overwhelming. I looked into that man’s eyes, (waiting for MY PERMISSION to simply have a seat)…*who am I* to grant this? And I look around sun-(and money) drenched Waikiki, with the wealthy tourists sipping their lattes, and glance down at my own banana and coffee on the table beside me…I am humbled. I look straight into this man’s eyes…and ask him what he would like for breakfast. He looks at me as I looked at smiley….to make sure he heard me right…and yes, he did. Once this initial shock is over, we have another hurdle…the what’s-in-it-for-you questioning glance. I assure him it is free. Twice. And then a third time in a different words. And finally, a fourth time, when he has asked, “Is there something I should know?” I look at him, and stop trying to reassure and just say….”I just had my breakfast, and feel like I’d like you to have some too….I am a selfish little woman, as I do not like to eat alone…humor me please.” And, for me, this kind man did me this favor.

As we sat down to a morning feast…complete with egg sandwiches and a “cup-of-china” he ordered…I marveled at how childlike and excited he looked now as he ate and smiled…and how very long it took me to get him to believe that I wanted nothing but to bless and love on him this morning…and that nothing was needed from him but to receive.

This, the day, after Easter, and whose timing is not lost on me…I was blessed by a stranger, and shown firsthand a glimpse of what God feels for us, and the sadness it must bring Him when we will not just believe He wants to bless us, and let Him, and receive goodness.

This day, I was given the chance to practice resurrection. And while I did not expect anything in return for my kindess, the gratitude received from this man, was beautiful, and only served to double my joy in the giving.

He is risen…and calls me to rise….and uplift~

Static~

Woke up this morning feeling light. I have been on a sabbatical of sorts these last days/weeks. Taking a break from (okay, maybe hiding from) the world. I’ve “shushed” myself, and sought…trying to listen in a world that, frankly, had become deafening. Loud and cluttered, the Television offering more bad news, the radio with its constant rotation of blaring, Bieber bop and rhyming, oh so profound gangsta rap (mmm tizzz…what, what…*no, really…what?*), the ringing telephone, the buzzing texts, the facebook popups…the chatter….these things I call my “static”…breaking up the clear signal I was so desperately seeking. SHUSH… so I can hear the message I am trying to channel….the words are garbled and cutting in and out…static running interference again and again.

Must.

Eliminate.

The.

Static….

(And I did.) I turned off the TV, began to appreciate the silent drive to town….windows rolled down to the tune of the rhythmic waves…ebb and FLOWing those BEats. I silenced my phone and stilled the shaking texts. Facebook fell to the wayside, and everything…every single thing…stilled.

At first the silence was almost as deafening as the static had been, Time had overnight seemed to multiply. What exactly had I done with my 24-sectioned slots before? I can’t scarcely say…but what I do know is that the silence, at first scary and foreign….soothed. Soothed like a lullaby from the lips of the most nurturing earth mama, this soul of mine drank it up like a cool, glass of water in the middle of the Sahara. If I could swim in this silence, I would. I would race to it with every ounce of speed and energy I could expel, cannonball into its depths-- let the waves crash over me, and wash me clean.

“In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth.” Gandhi~