The laundry hangs on crisscrossed lines, underwear, socks, an old tshirt with rust stains from the well water, and a frayed towel cut in fourths because it is all we need to dry after a shower. Sunlight gives the clothes an appearance of brightness, a sense of cleanliness normally reserved for new apparel. Four days have passed since leaving Angelo and Gabrielleś Kaaawa sanctuary. I sit in my tiny house on wheels in the Pacific Northwest staring out the back glass door at the now empty clothesline devoid of any sign of existence, content with life. No, I was not always so satiated. Before my trip to Hawaii, I had worked 3 full time jobs for over thirty years, pushing against myself to find my purpose or wreak havoc - you choose. I was certain that Kaaawa held the grail of my existence - as if my life was my own. Ha! Despite being born and raised on Oahu, I was ripped away from my island paradise at the tender age of twelve only to land in Arkansas. Apparently I needed that experience. I figured that out much later.
Expectations abound as the date of departure grew near, all the while knowing that my search had finished before I had packed my tshirts. Decades had come and gone, and replaced the deservation with acceptance. The flight landed at 10 pm and we arrived at our accomodations around midnight. There in the dark stood Angelo, unlocking the gate and guiding us into our home for the next month. The air was clean, salty, kind. We entered the house, dropped our bags, showered and slept on a very comfortable and clean-linen scented bed. At 4 am I meditated and took our morning walk, returning in time for the sunrise. Every morning I walked my tea and my chair to the corner and watched the earth bow to a power that the human mind misunderstands as the sun. My daily sojourn to Swanzy beach was a 2 block walk through beautiful flora and an abundance of butterflies. The beach was always quiet, almost empty save the occassional shell-hunter or snorkeler. This peace is present in you - said the ocean - I am here to remind you of your own unlimited vast emptiness. I returned daily. Nothing to say. Nothing to do. No agenda. The neighborhood was solemn, at ease with itself and comfortable in its skin. Noise was absent. I told Gabrielle the silence was akin to being in a monastery which drew a hearty soul-fed laugh followed by the assurance that in no way was her home with three children a monastery. I never heard so much as a peep. Leaving the windows open the entire time, palms fluttered in the morning breeze, waves lulled us to sleep, and mating frogs in the lily pond croaked their assurance of new tadpoles in the coming days. Gorgeous green geckos scanned the rocks for rations. Daily meal prep was simple and made easy with a plethora of tools, dishes, and appliances. The spotlessly clean studio made living and relaxing feel encouraged. The wash machine and dryer added an ease to our limited wardrobe. As our month drew to a close, tears found their way down my cheeks washing away any misgivings of needing to know.
We boarded the bus with our bags and headed to the airport. Once there, we had a few hours to fill, so I walked down to Nimitz Highway (in reality a 4 lane road with pedestrian access) and bought salads at the sushi shop and brought them back for our evening meal.
Seekers, wanderers, explorers, and yearners will find an oasis, a point of reference from which to center their soul in this home. The most diligent will experience an acceptance of life, a satisfaction beyond words. My gratefulness to Angelo and Gabrielle and their openness in sharing their home with the world is forever an example to which I aspire. Hesitation breeds regret. So go. Stay. Live Aloha.