Christmas Photo Cards

We've started to get family picture cards in the mail.

The question for us this year was, where do we put them? In years past, we would get the photo cards and magnet them to the refrigerator. This year, however, no fridge. Kim solved it for us by taking some cuttings from Karen's Christmas tree and hanging them from our walls. She strung up some ribbon to the cuttings and clipped pictures to the ribbon and the branches using our wooden clothespins. I really like it, it actually looks better than sticking them up on the fridge.

We get a whole variety of different photos coming to us. Some families choose to get a definite posed shot on the card. The children may be wearing some kind of matching aloha print wear and smiling for the camera. On the day of the shoot, it may have been a little bit of an effort to make sure everyone's hair was combed properly, no food smudges on the clothes, everyone was in a good mood, and at that moment the shutter clicks--all eyes were opened. It's a lot to juggle in capturing that one moment you want to share with your family and friends.

One of our dear friends sent us a card with some incredibly beautiful photos of her and her son. When I complimented her on the shots, she let me in on a little bit of the back story of the photo shoot. She hired a professional to do the photos and was excited about creating something wonderful. The weather was spectacular and everything was set--except her three year old son was in a foul mood. With deft skills and a little bit of M&Ms she was able to get him to be a stellar model. It's amazing how a little bit of extra sweetness can help you get things done.

Some families choose a montage of different photos taken throughout the year for their cards. They scour through their digital cameras or their photo files looking for the perfect moments to place on the cards. This year, for our photo card, we decided to pose for a shot as well as add photos from the year. Finding the photos from the year was easy. The pose was a different story. We decided to sit in front of Karen's tree and all wear blue. The tree was lit up, hair and make up set, beard trimmed and combed, doggie hat placed on Butch, three year old dressed and wiped, and Karen instructed on how to use our camera.
"Okay, Bodhi come sit on Daddy's lap."
"No Daddy, I want to sit over here by myself."
Karen: "If he sits there he won't be in the frame."
"Cmon Bodhi."
"I don't want to take pictures."
I pick up Bodhi and place him on my lap and a small but tiresome tantrum ensues.
"Do you need to sit by yourself in the room for a bit?"
"No! No!--I don't need to go the room!"--Tears starting to stream down his cheeks.
Okay, take two-- Tears are wiped, smiles are propped up on our faces, I shake off the tantrum and send out as much love energy as I can muster because I believe that it translates in the photo, and click, click click several shots are taken.

Bodhi was never fully settled during the shoot. We actually have several shots of Kim and I sitting at the tree with Butch, Bodhi's legs in a dash in front of us darting out of the frame. I joked with Kim that we should have put that photo on our cards this year.

We always try to share our best with our friends and family. We try to choose photos that capture the essence of the love we feel for each other and those we are sharing the images with. The tantrums, the fights between siblings, and the dark moments of fear, anger and stress never make the final cut even though they too have made up part of the time that has passed during the year. We all want to shine, and so we should, for that is our true essence. But we also must take the time to reflect on all the moments that have gone by. Even the dark moments, if viewed properly, provide fertile soil for growth. I am reminded of the Buddhist teaching, that the deeper the mud the more glorious the lotus blossom. And vinters know that distressed vines produce some of the most interesting and wonderful grapes. Of course, we don't want to live in the mire, just learn the lesson and move on.

Jonathan Larson, in his Tony Award winning musical "Rent", reminds us that 525,600 minutes make up a year. He asks, "How do you measure the year in a life?" As the year comes to a close and we get these wonderful picture cards from loved ones, it's a good time for us think about our back stories and reflect on the moments that made up the year. What have we learned? Were we courageous in the face of fear? Did we experience as much joy as we could have? Have we forgiven ourselves for any missteps? Have we been as loving as we possibly could?

Let's measure 2009 in love.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

The Lights

The weather is getting colder here on the Big Island.

It's been in the upper 50s at night and in the mid 70s during the day. The mosquitos can't seem to manage the colder air and have left us alone for the past few weeks. The coqui frogs have gone quiet in the evenings as well. I guess the winter air doesn't foster their amorous desires to mate. The night skies have been clear and quiet, it's been wonderful to see the blanket of stars, unhindered by city lights, sparkling overhead.

I think I thrive better in cold weather. My thinking is clearer and my vision seems brighter. Those of you living in more temperate climates may be laughing at me and saying the upper 50s is downright balmy. But in the tropics anything below 65 is freezing. When we lived in Japan, I loved the way everything quieted down in the winter. The summers in Japan were a cacophony of cicadas in the trees during the day and frogs in the rice paddies at night. But as Autumn rolled around things would get quieter and quieter until winter's silence would cover everything. I also really loved walking home at night when I was a student in Denmark. The snow would crunch under my feet and the smell of wood fires burning in homes would embrace me as I made my way to my homestay.

The days are shorter, but the Christmas lights up around town make the evenings bright. Since our electricity is coming off of a 12 volt battery charged by our solar panels, we are not putting up lights on a tree or around the cabin. It really helps us appreciate the lights we do see all around.

Kim made us a wreath this year. It's a gorgeous piece made with native plants that we gathered with Karen on the slopes of Mauna Kea. It was beautiful on the day that we picked the material for the wreath. The air was crisp and clear as Karen began to oli us into the forest. As she chanted us in, I closed my eyes, my whole body seemed to buzz with energy and I got this strong sense of being at one with everything around me. As she came to the end of her oli, Spirit spoke to me and let me know that if I do things purposefully everything would work itself out. It was very profound. We spent about four hours in the forest gathering Liko Lehua, Uki, and Laiko. And now Kim's masterpiece is up and on display at the cabin to remind us of this wondrous season.

This past Saturday evening we went up to the Volcano Art Center in Volcano Village for a Christmas event. Volcano Village is at about 3500 ft. elevation. Whereas, Kurtistown is at about 1200 ft. elevation. So it gets a lot colder in Volcano Village. The event gave us the feel of having a "real" Christmas. To clarify, growing up in Hawai‘i, we are filled with images of a white Christmas with Santa coming down the chimney. But most Hawai‘i kids don't have first hand experience of dashing through the snow or walking through a winter wonderland. But this year at Volcano Village, as we stepped out of our car, seeing our breath plume out in front of us as we exhaled, we saw people all bundled up in jackets, some actually wearing scarves, people sipping hot apple cider and little ones standing around the yule log roasting marshmallows. What we needed to overlook, however, was looking down. Despite all of the bundling up on top, most people, even in Volcano Village, were wearing rubber flip flop slippers. It was a reality check that we were, of course, still in our tropical paradise.

While driving around the Village, Kim saw a sign posted in front of a house, "Wait 5 seconds." We thought this was a very good message. On one level it tells about the weather patterns here on Hawai‘i Island. If it's raining, just wait five seconds and the sun will show itself again and then it'll rain again. Nothing is permanent. On another level the message speaks of the benefit of action versus reaction. Most people are reactive rather than being purposefully active. The general tendency in human behavior is to be reactive to the world around us. Someone may cut us off on the highway and in a knee jerk reaction, the finger comes flying out the window. Our child may throw a tantrum and without a pause, we yell. The economy tanks and we run for cover. One of the beautiful things about meditation is that it trains your mind to be less reactive. As you sit in meditation, knees may start to ache or a fly may be buzzing around your head. The reactive thing to do would be change your position or to swat at the fly. But in meditation you are taught to just observe the phenomena without judgement and know that it will pass, that nothing is permanent. In essence, you are giving yourself that "five seconds" to experience life in a different way. It is an incredibly valuable skill to be able to take that five seconds in any situation, to breathe, then see the world from a different perspective and then act from a more meaningful place.

We ended our evening at Volcano Village caroling around to the different businesses in the area with a group from the Volcano Art Center. It was so much fun. The Holiday Season is upon us and it is so easy to get caught up in the rush of the days. Yesterday, Bodhi had an Advent Program at his school and it really helped us gain a better perspective on the season. The children all participated in walking around the Advent Spiral and placing candles in the circle. It was symbolic of our need to find our inner light during this season of darkness and shine it out to others.

The writer Robert Fulghum tells a story of a time he went to a Peace Conference that illustrates this point. A Greek philosopher and teacher ended a lecture asking, “Are there any questions?” In the audience was Robert Fulghum who asked, “Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?”

Fulghum relates: “The usual laughter followed, and people started to go. Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was. ‘I will answer your question,’ he said. Then taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into it and brought out a very small, round mirror, about the size of a quarter. Then he said, ‘When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found several broken pieces of a mirror from a wrecked German motorcycle. I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone, I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would not shine – in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.

'I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child’s game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of the light. But light – truth, understanding, knowledge – is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.'

‘I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have, I can reflect light into the dark places of this world – into the black places in the hearts of men – and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life.' “And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk."


Wait five seconds,

Appreciate the light,

Reflect the light,

Be the light, that is our only job in this glorious world.

The Spell

I've always dreamed of sitting around and doing nothing.

It's been about a month since the last of the major projects on the cabin have been completed. Kim and I have been blessed with the luxury of time to sit, to listen to ourselves, and to gain clarity for what's ahead. Although I've never been a fan of the Puritan work ethic that seems to drive a large portion of this country, I have found that there is some truth in the statement, "Idle hands are the Devil's workshop." This is especially true if there is too much time to think and the ego gets a hold of the loudspeaker.

For awhile we fell under the spell of lethargy. Days would be flowing into days without any real drive to move forward. But the real danger of lethargy can be found in it's Greek origin lethargos or forgetfulness. In our idleness we were forgetting why we were out on the land. We would drive through the neighborhood around Bodhi's school and wonder if we should have bought a one acre lot with a house already on it rather than a ten acre lot of raw land. What the heck are we going to do with ten acres of raw land? Is life in the middle of a tropical rainforest really for us?

About a week ago, when we were in Honolulu, there were days of torrential rain storms here on the Big Island and the cabin got it. We came back to find mold all over our dining room table, on Bodhi's toys, and on some of our clothes. The only real succinct way to describe it is---gross. We spent the first two days back on the Big Island at Karen's in Hilo, while Kim and I went up to the land to clean up the mess left by the big rains. We got the place cleaned up pretty well, all of the laundry washed, and of course, as it always does, the sun broke through the clouds for a few days and dried up everything. When the sun did show, the temperature was in the high 60s with breezes blowing out of the north. It's the time of year when the sun comes in at an angle that casts long shadows across the landscape. It was glorious to be out on the land, having breakfast on the deck, listening to jazz and feeling the cool drying breeze blow over what was once wet and boggy.

As I sit here and write this it's easy to see the gloriousness of what we are experiencing as a family. But sometimes when you are in the midst of muddy feet and wet everything, the longing for modern conveniences run high. These feelings come at you fast when you have idle time.

I'm in no way advocating busyness for the sake of busyness. I saw a lot of that in Honolulu. One of the things I noticed was that not a lot of people just hang out in Honolulu during a week day. I was at Ward Center at lunch time and everyone around seemed to be very directed; either a business lunch meeting, rushing through a meal, or behind the wheels of their cars heading back to the office. The only people I noticed really hanging out were senior citizens, 20 something college students, mommies with young babies, and the well heeled set.

When you walk around Hilo Town on a weekday, it seems like everyone is just hanging out.

Where do we find the balance between being and doing? Too much idleness leads to the mire of lethargy and a feeling of purposelessness. Too much activity without contemplation leads to the unexamined life that Socrates warns us about. It's a matter of balancing the two aspects of our being. As spiritual beings, being in a state of Being is enough. But as physical beings in this material world, we crave action and movement to create some sense of purpose in our lives. There is no judgement on either aspect of our being, it just is what it is.

Thanksgiving, and a few days before, really helped to break the acedia for Kim and I. A couple of days before Thanksgiving, I was asked to dust off my ordination and officiate a wedding ceremony. At first, I didn't want to perform the ceremony. It had been a few years since Kim and I had officiated a wedding and I was feeling out of practice and not looking forward to being in front of a group a people. It had been raining a lot on the morning of the wedding and there was a part of me that was hoping the couple would cancel the whole affair. About two hours before the event, the sun broke through and the ocean front location was absolutely gorgeous. The bride and groom looked young and nervous standing in front of me and in front of all of their family and friends. They had, however, that sparkle of new wonderful beginnings. Being a part of the union of the young couple was very meaningful and helped me to make a crack in the shell of spiritual apathy that was currently surrounding my Higher Self.

Preparing for our Thanksgiving meal was also a real balm to my soul. For me, being out in Karen's garden and breaking a sweat while harvesting the corn, being in the hot kitchen helping to chop, stir, lift, pour, and washing dishes and pots until my fingers were pruned was revitalizing and refreshing. And each trip to the store on Thanksgiving morning for oil, or pie crusts, or whipped cream, or canned pumpkins, was a pilgrimage to purposefulness. I truly appreciated that the spell of lethargy was being broken on the day set aside specifically for giving thanks. It is so appropriate that Thanksgiving leads the way into the Christmas Season, because in order for us to truly be in a space of giving and receiving we must first be in a space of gratitude for what we already have.

So as far as the dream of sitting around and doing nothing, I do believe it needs to get balanced out with mindful action. The followers of the teachings of Ernest Holmes' Science of Mind practice doing spiritual treatments. A spiritual treatment is an affirmative statement of one's intention, basically an affirmative prayer request. Many Science of Mind practitioners are familiar with the statement, "Treat, treat, treat, then move your feet". So when do we know it's a good time to move our feet? Well here's a little story that helps me contemplate that question.

A hawk and a vulture are flying in the sky. The hawk was flapping his wings hard and was very excited about hunting for a meal. The hawk exclaimed,"Ohhh! boy ohhh boy! I'm going to catch me some rabbit today! MMMMM! Rabbit. You ready to eat some rabbit?"
"I'm just waiting on the will of God." answered the vulture.
"Waiting? I'm not waiting for anything! First rabbit I see, I'm devouring."
"I'm just waiting on the will of God." said the vulture.
Just then the hawk spots a rabbit and knowing exactly what he wanted, he bared his talons and darts toward the rabbit. Just as the hawk was about to grab the rabbit, the rabbit hops out of the way and the hawk crashes straight into a pile of rocks and drops dead. Up above, the vulture circled around the scene a few times, gently glided down to the hawk, and whispered to himself, "Waiting on the will of God."

Happy Thanksgiving

This little video skit was inspired by Bodhi's process of planting corn seeds in Karen's garden, watching them grow and harvesting them for Thanksgiving dinner.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. We'll be posting more blog entries next week when Bodhi is back in school.

The Destination

Bubbles and a three year old are magical.

A few afternoons ago, Kim, Bodhi and I were out on our lawn area blowing bubbles.  The sun was setting, so the sky had that wonderful feel of oranges, pinks, blues and purples.  The clouds were thin and whispy and streaked with color.  The iridescent bubbles reflected the sky and the cabin as Bodhi ran after them in the tall grass.  It was early enough that the coqui frog hadn't come out yet, but the birds had already started to settle in for the night.  The only sound was our deep resonant wind chime blowing in the gentle breeze and the sound of Bodhi's feet rustling up the grass.  It was a splendid moment.

Kim and I have been having a few grass is greener conversations.  The conclusion Kim has come to is that the grass is greener wherever you water it.  Lucky for us it rains a lot here in Ola‘a.  The weather has been absolutely gorgeous for us.  We've had blue sunny skies that have been clear enough for us to see the tops of Mauna Kea everyday. And as we lay our heads on our pillows we're lulled to sleep with the patter of rain on the corrugated steel roof.  We wake every morning to a full catchement tank and another day of blue, blue skies.  I was telling Kim that I must be vibrating beauty, because I am seeing it all around me.

I've had a case of itchy feet with varying degrees of severity ever since I was a college student.  I went away for a awhile to study at SUNY Stonybrook in New York, and that is where I heard the call to the road.  The next thing I knew, I was on a flight to the UK to study at the University of London for a semester abroad.  A year later I spent a semester studying at the University of Copenhagen in Denmark.  Shortly after college, Kim and I got married and headed off to Japan to teach English.  Coming back to Hawai‘i from Japan for the last 11 years has been the longest time Kim and I have spent in one place.  We feel very committed to this place that we both call our childhood home.  But every once in awhile the road seems to call me with it's seductive pointer finger beckoning me to come out and play.  Maybe it's Portland.  Maybe it's Ashland.  Maybe it's the Bay Area.  Maybe Canada.  Maybe Australia.  Maybe Italy.  Maybe Paris.

For Mark Twain it was the Mississippi River and for Jack Kerouac it was the roadways of America that represented the feeling of unbounded freedom.  They represent the same thing for me.  The ability to get out of my normal routine and out of my sense of self is very appealing.  There is something freeing in the feeling of heading somewhere with the optimistic hope that it's better than here.

Kim and I are funny travelers.  When we go to a new place we tend to find ourselves going to cafes to sit, going to  nice restaurants to eat, or finding quiet places to read.  Basically, we tend to do the same things we do when we are here in Hawai‘i but in a new geographic location.  We are huge fans of the 90s TV series "Northern Exposure".   When the show was on regular TV we would watch it religiously and whenever the opening theme music would come on, we would get naked and dance around crazily in our living room.  By the final season a new doctor and his wife were introduced to the show.  They were the kind of people that every few years would move to a new place.  In one episode, they had the profound realization that whenever things got tough they would, "pack up the china."  That episode was meaningful to Kim and I.  We had, over the years, found that was our trend.  In some circles it's known as "pulling a geographic".  It's the idea that moving to a new place will somehow bring about a better life.  But the truth is, no matter where you move to, you will still be you and whatever luggage you bring along will follow you to the new location.

I think Kim is right in her realization that the grass is greener wherever you water it.  So what do we do about the itchy feet?  A few years ago, while we were on trip here from Honolulu.  We were standing on a bridge looking at this beautiful lagoon in Hilo.  We were talking about what we want in our life.  We came to the conclusion that our lives don't have to be an either/or proposition.  We don't have to choose either Hawai‘i or some other place.  It can be an and/both proposition.  We can live in Hawai‘i and Paris.  We can be both grounded and free.  I know, I know we tend to primarily go to cafes and restaurants when we are in a new place, but isn't it so much cooler to sip cafe at a Parisian cafe than to have a cup of coffee at Starbucks?  

Henry Miller once said, "One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things."  We will water the grass here and allow our roots to grow deep with the knowingness that our only destination is to know ourselves.  We can take that knowingness with us wherever we go and enjoy whatever kind of wonderfulness this world has to offer.

Pictures

This is the back view of the cabin.  It has two bays for cars and tractor.  The stairs and floor of the "dinning deck" were built by Jim and Andrew.  The second floor is more of a formal living area.

Andrew also put in shelves for Bodhi's toys.  We painted the deck to, hopefully, protect it from the moisture that is all around us.

View of cabin kitchen from dinning table on deck. We bought a propane camping stove from Costco.  It works pretty well.  Andrew doesn't do a lot of oven cooking anyway--and we got rid of our microwave years ago---so really this is all we need.  We even do our toast on the open flame with this handy campers' toast gadget and heat some bath water nightly using our teakettle.  We bring in drinking water in 7 gallon blue containers.  You can see our cooler and our wonderful sink.

View from front entrance to 1st floor of cabin.  So we have a kitchen deck and then the dinning/Bodhi toy area deck.  And storage.

This is a marine grade cooler.  It takes 4 blocks of ice--if you didn't open it, it would stay cold for two weeks---but for us 4 blocks last us 7 days.

Front storage area and stairs leading up to the second floor.

Railings at the top of the stairs---Andrew built these so Bodhi wouldn't take to flying.  They look real nice!  One of his first projects by himself.

Upstairs Lanai view from the top of the stairs.  Andrew and Jim had put plywood up, instead of railings--to Bodhi proof the area.  It's very serene up there.

View of lanai from other direction.

French door entrance to main living area.  The upstairs room is surrounded by windows.

Kind of a living room/bedroom.  Very comfy.

Left side of room--if you were standing at the doors.

Right side view from doors.

Happy Bodhi---Loves his trains!

Kermit---the pet Chameleon--hangs out inside the bedroom every day.

Bodhi at front of cabin.

And that concludes the tour folks.  I know some had already seen these on facebook---but just in case you missed them, I thought I should repost.

Wouldn't it be nice if. . .

We must have been vibrating dog energy.

Where there were none, now there are two. It was about a week ago that Kim and I started talking about getting a dog. Our conversations about these things usually start with, "Wouldn't it be nice if . . .?". This time it went something like, "Wouldn't it be nice to have a dog for the land and for Bodhi?". Within a few days of posing this question, Mister Dog started appearing on the scene. Although he remains this phantom apparition that appears and disappears, he has definitely gotten more comfortable with us. I've had situations where I'm working on something and I look up, I see him standing in front of me, I look away for a second, he's gone, I turn around and he's standing behind me. It freaks me out sometimes. He's taken to being a troll living under our deck and seems to come out when he smells food cooking. Now to add to this, Bodhi's Godfather, Reverend Mark, calls Kim on Friday and asks if we're willing to take one of his dogs, Butch. Apparently, tiny little Butch has developed an appetite for Mark's neigbor's chickens and has come home with them in his mouth.

Kim and I have always been people to follow the flow of life and so it seems that the currents of the stream have brought us not one, but two dogs. Butch is one of those tiny little dogs that thinks he is a big dog. He's already gotten charged at Mister Dog to establish his role as the alpha male. I don't want to paint a picture of Butch being a vicious, chicken killing, mongrel. He is a sweet dog that gets so excited to see us when we get home, loves to hop into my lap when I'm sitting, and just loves, loves, loves to get rubbed down, scratched and petted.

We think Mister Dog will always be a shadow figure that comes around for a free meal and then goes off and lives his own life. That's okay with us, he's been gentle enough so far.

It's amazing what happens when you put your desires out and they mesh with your beliefs as to what is possible. Ten years ago, when Kim and I came to the Big Island for a cousins graduation, we fell in love with this place and asked ourselves, "Wouldn't it be nice to live here?". At that time we thought we would move to the Big Island in about three years. Three months later, however, we are running an ocean front bed and breakfast on the Big Island.

The bed and breakfast had a broken pool that was filling up with rain water. Kim saw this and said to me, "Wouldn't it be nice to have koi for the pool?". We didn't mention this to anyone, but a day later a friend calls and says,"Hey, I know a guy who has 30 koi he doesn't want anymore. You want them?". When our time as innkeepers was coming to an end, we took a drive around the island to take in some of the beautiful scenery this place has to offer. As we drove through Waimea, I looked at Kim and in a very matter of fact way asked, "Wouldn't it be nice to live here?". Within two months we were both working on a ranch on the upper road leading out of Waimea Town.

This formula of asking and receiving, that we learned from Reverend Mark and from the teachings of Abraham, has worked over and over again for us. It's really the process of focussing your desires on what is wanted over what is not wanted and then allowing your desires to flow into your life. The challenging part is the allowing, because this aspect of the formula deals with what you believe is possible. You may desire a million dollars, but if you don't believe it is possible to have it, it won't flow into your life.

So in this vast Universe what are we willing to believe is possible? Is it possible to believe that life supports us? Is it possible to believe that life flows as a constant stream of health, abundance and peace? Is it possible to believe that if we surrender to the flow of the stream, instead of fighting to swim against the current, that all our desires will come into our life?

Wouldn't it be nice to believe all these things and more are possible? Wouldn't it be nice if...

Monkey and Me

Thinking can be dangerous.

This has been our second week of project free living. It has been lovely. A lot of time to talk, to read, to take Bodhi out to play. The weather has been beautiful, rainy nights that keep the catchment full and sunny days that keep us going swimming----because ya gotta be outside when the sun is shinning.

We've been able to have a lot of much needed quiet time---and there in lies the danger. When you are busy with "to do's" it is much easier to keep a leash on your monkey mind. Andrew took Bodhi to school this morning, so I was alone as I finished the morning chores. I did the dishes and a little fuzz control. I am happy to report that I have surrendered to the fact that mold is all around and that I have to just work with it. The toys are holding up, just a few had mold spots, which I wiped off with alcohol and our dinning room table will be refinished soon--that is the best I can do. I have learned acceptance about the mold and acceptance is always a good lesson.

It was beautifully quiet and peaceful as I swept, yet I was nervous. I was having an, "Oh shit, what have we done?" moment---on a small, slightly unconscious scale. I have been having these thoughts the past few days---my monkey has apparently gnawed through her leash in search of bananas.

"What have we done?", my mind whispers. "Why did you give up the security and certainty that you had going for you on O'ahu?" "Why did you buy the land?" "What would your life be like now if you hadn't spent Lois' gift on the land?" My mind wanders, imagines scenarios in which we stayed on O'ahu, kept Andrew's job and Lois' money or moved to Portland or Europe. The monkey is bouncing around it's cage in my head screeching---"what if you didn't make the best choice with this move????"

And then I think about Andrew. My husband has fingerprints!!!! His eczema is almost gone. I can't stress to you how major this is. He has been in some level of pain for years. His hands would get so bad that they would crack open and bleed. And then there was his hacking cough and slight high blood pressure. All from stress. And ALL gone! I am also feeling physically better too. I am losing weight, like Andrew, and on the whole feeling much more at peace. I think about the fact that Andrew and I get to spend every day together. I think about how we are putting down roots and creating something magical for Bodhi.

I also think about the flow. Andrew and I have been committed, for some time now, to paying attention to and going with what seems to be flowing the easiest in our lives. The land purchase came about easily and effortlessly and so has the move over. We were blessed by Lois with the money, then blessed by Jim with the land, then blessed by Karen with a place to stay while we got settled, and then blessed by Jim again with the cabin. Abundant flow.

Now we are blessed by the time to be open and to allow our next moves to reveal themselves.

This is where my monkey sometimes gets loose. I am pretty good at keeping her caged, but clearly I still have fears. We have a few months left until we absolutely need to have some income flow. The clarity is coming, as to what we want to do to create income, and that is good. Now I just need to continue having the faith we need to resist swimming upstream. I know my job is to decide what I want and it is the universe's job to figure out the how. I just need to get out of the way. I need to breathe through any fear I may have, continue to hold good emotional vibrations and be willing to float. Float with the currents.

I will tell my monkey that there is no lack of abundance. She can have all the bananas she wants and I will build her a comfortable boat so that she can float with me on the peaceful and supportive currents of the universe.

Mister Dog

We've had this scraggly stray dog coming to visit us at the cabin. We've named him Mister Dog, a character in one of Bodhi's books. In the book, Mister Dog is a dog that doesn't belong to anyone, he belongs to himself. I'm not even sure if this stray that comes around to our place is a male or female, but for the sake of simplicity I will refer to it as a male. He lives somewhere in the woods and survives on whatever he can catch. He's light brown, shaggy, and his hair always looks matted down from all the rain and mud he has to endure outdoors.

Kim and I have had Lieutenant Dunbar from "Dances with Wolves" moments, enthusiastically waving our hands in the air trying to get Mister Dog to come closer to eat some of our leftovers. He's been very reluctant about getting near us. He's become this phantom that we catch out of the corner of our eyes and when we turn to get a better look, he scurries off into the woods. I'm thinking that life must be uncertain for Mister Dog. Most of the time I see him his tail is down between his legs. One time, however, I saw him at a distance, he pounced on something in the grass, ate whatever he caught, his tail raised up in a brief joyful wag and then it went down between his legs again as he disappeared into the trees.

In the book we are reading, "One Year Off", the writer, Daniel Cohen, makes the statement that people crave certainty. He goes on to write that certainty is an ephemeral illusion and that we cling on to routines to give us a greater sense of security about life. He cites a friend whose life took an unexpected tragic turn and uses that examples as one of the reasons he was willing to sell off everything and take his family on an around the world adventure. He believed that following routines makes it possible to put your life on auto-pilot. His hope with the trip was to disrupt his families patterns so thoroughly that they would be receptive to new options and possibilities.

I partially agree with Cohen. I do believe that we cannot, from our earthbound perspective, get a full picture of what's ahead and that some of the things we grasp onto our truly ephemeral. And I also agree that it is often good to shake up routines to gain a fresh perspective. I do, however, believe that we can balance the uncertainty question with a large dose of faith that we are attracting into our lives whatever our inner consciousness is putting out there. What are we going to choose to send out?

I've heard it described as a car ride on a dark road. You've set a course for where you want to go and you begin the drive. On the darkened road your headlights give you only a few feet of visibility. And yet you keep driving on with the faith that you are moving to where you want to be, knowing that you will eventually make it.

How comfortable can we be with uncertainty? The answer to that question is another question, how willing are we to leap with our arms wide open knowing the net will appear?

Kim and I have been spending a lot of time pondering the security and certainty questions. It's interesting how elusive the questions can be. As I write this post, I am aware that this may be one entry that I have struggled through the most. Throughout the writing of it I was really uncertain of what I was really trying to say. Perhaps it's because I was trying to intellectualize an idea rather than simply surrender into it. It's like Kim mentioned in her recent post, our job is to get clear on the "what" and allow the Universe to take care of the "how". As humans we want to get involved in the specific details of how something will be accomplished. We are action creatures that want to do something to get something done. All the Universe really wants us to do is to surrender and allow. But that takes faith and a willingness to let go.

What I am realizing is that there is certainty as long as you allow it into your life. There is certainty in knowing that what I am putting out from my inner consciousness is what I will be out picturing in my physical world. This has been proven to Kim and I time and time again. I must admit, that when I let go of my thoughts, I am enjoying the free fall.

For now Mister Dog will remain a shadow like figure that darts in and out of our living space. He is uncertain of us. We'll dance around this relationship and keep throwing out scraps for him to take if he wants. And of course, trust that he is living his life and we are living ours, following faithfully what is true for each of us.

Midlife

Is this move to the woods my midlife crisis?

I was pondering this question on an early ice run from the Hara Store in Kurtistown. The ice run was a rookie mistake on our part. We woke up Sunday morning and the ice in the cooler had melted away and the contents were starting to get warm. Now we know for sure, four blocks of ice will last seven days in our cooler. As far as the midlife question, I wasn't feeling down about it as my mind worked over it. Rather, it was more of a pleasant day dream. Kim and I have been reading a book titled, "A Year Off" together. Whenever we have a spare moment, Kim has been reading aloud from this book. It's so much better than watching TV. The book is about a guy, who shortly after his 40th birthday decides to sell his business, house, cars, and most of his possessions and take his family(three kids and a wife) on an around the world trip for a year. It is an entertaining and inspiring read. One of the thoughts the writer contemplates is whether or not this trip is his midlife crisis.

So as I drove up the rugged road towards the land my mind wandered over this thought. The idea of a midlife crisis evokes a lot of negative connotations in our society. We get a picture of a man looking back on his past and regretting some of the decisions in his life, feeling the weight of his responsibilities, and looking ahead to a bleak tomorrow. In a spur of the moment decision he drops everything, buys the sports convertible, and runs off with someone 20 years younger. That's of course one scenario, but it doesn't have to be the only scenario. Perhaps, the midlife crisis needs to be reframed to being the midlife awakening. It's the realization that some things are not working and the opportunity to move in a different way.

I wonder if the the spiritual itch that inspired Siddhartha Gotama to seek enlightenment was actually a midlife crisis. He dropped everything, including his wife and child, to seek out something better for himself. Wow! What kind of guy would do that? No disrespect to Buddhists everywhere, but he took the easy way out. Try finding enlightenment with a toddler hanging around, that's the true test of how much calm and peace one can maintain. Point in case, Halloween. The process of finding a costume for a little one can be like being pulled through the stages of death and rebirth over and over again. First, Bodhi wanted to be a bus driver for Halloween. So we set out to find some kind of uniform to meet this desire. Bodhi is very specific about what a bus drive wears. "Daddy, a bus driver wears a blue coat, blue pants, white shirt, blue tie and a hat." We scour the thrift stores and the mall to find these items. No luck until we finally go to Macy's and find a little boy's suit. The only problem, the suit has pin stripes and of course in Bodhi's mind a bus driver doesn't wear a pin striped suit.

Kim and I come up with a plan to sell the idea of him being a train engineer instead. This would be easy we thought, he loves trains. How hard would it be to find overalls, a red bandana, and a conductors hat? First stumbling block with this one was that Bodhi wouldn't have any of it. He was firm that a bus driver was what he wanted to be. It took us about two weeks of marketing the idea for him to buy into it. He finally did. The hat was easy. We bought one for him on our trek to the train museum in Laupahoehoe. Overalls were another story. You would think with the amount of ag land on this island, children's overalls would be standard inventory at most clothing stores. None to be found until we finally went to Macy's again and found a pair that was sized for a 24 month old that actually fit Bodhi. After all of this effort, we were standing in Macy's, Bodhi has the overalls on and is looking awfully cute, he looks at me and says,"Daddy, I want to be a violin player, like in the symphony." Needless to say I wanted to scream. Kim came by just before my synapses were about to burst and did a 15 minute convincing session to reassure Bodhi that he wants to be a train engineer.

As I paid for the overalls, Bodhi says to me,"Okay daddy, I need a red kerchief." I ask the Macy's clerk for bandanas. None. I go to Sears, none. I go to five other stores, none. The last store I go to tells me to go to Hot Topic. Hot Topic is a Goth store in the mall. We go in and the store is filled with teenagers looking for costumes of the sexy or zombie variety. I ask the heavily powdered clerk all clad in black, including nails and lipstick, if she had red bandanas. She smiles and says sure. I am relieved, the search is over. She takes me to the back of the shop and points to a display of bandanas. My eyes immediately pinpoint red and I grab it off the rack. To my dismay, the black print on the bandana is of all things skulls. I debate for a second on whether or not to get it. Bodhi is getting heavy in my arms, the store is crowded, and he keeps repeating I need a red bandana. It clicks in pretty quickly in my mind that I don't want my son being the engineer on Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train", so I put the grimacing skulls back and commit to searching on.

It's interesting how when you are focused on something you become hyper aware of it. I remember when I was a Class Advisor at Kamehameha Schools I needed to get red material and red yarn for the class. When the yarn I ordered arrived I began to worry that the red material I ordered wouldn't match the yarn. I became obsessed with red. I began to be aware of it everywhere; stop signs, brake lights, stop lights, red cars, red doors, red print on signs all popped out at me. I was so aware of red that I gave myself a case of pink eye and my eyes actually turned red, I was literally seeing red. As I was leaving the mall, I was hyper aware of bandanas. I saw them everywhere on people's heads. I actually saw a woman walking into the mall with red bandana that looked perfect for Bodhi but as I got closer I saw that the print on the material was hundreds of tiny little marijuana leaves. The search went on.

When we got to the car, as if by magic, Kim's phone rang and it was Karen. We told her what we were up to and she tells us, "I have a red bandana." It was as if a chorus of angels sang out in my head, the search was over.

As life moves on we find ourselves with a tremendous amount of responsibilities. It's very tempting to think about leaving it all behind, jumping behind the wheel of a classy roadster, cranking up some Bossa Nova music on the stereo, and zooming down the highway. But we don't because we know all of these experiences bring us closer to the precipice of enlightenment, and the joy of the journey is so much fun. So instead of a midlife crisis, I will call this my midlife awakening.

As I made my way up the bumpy road from the ice run. A neighbor about my age was driving down toward me. His Jeep was loaded with with his family on this early morning. They looked like they were laughing with each other and having a good time. As we passed each other we greeted one another with the very local loose grip shaka sign and the short upward head flick. At that moment I felt like we were both medieval knights, recognizing each other and acknowledging our nobility with a salute as we journeyed on to slay the next dragon.

Getting Out of the Box

I had some time to myself on the land today. Kim and our friend Carrie went to Hilo Town to have a girls' day. I was going to drive into Hilo today as well to have some time to read and write at a cafe. But after I dropped Bodhi off at school and was driving away, I thought it might be nicer to get some things done on the land.

When I got back, the sun was out and it seemed like the perfect day to take out the weed whip, a golf club shaped tool that I use to cut the grass around the cabin. I basically get up to the tall grass and take a swing and cut it down. I decided to do the 1/4 mile drive way that stretches from the cabin to the gate. The grass has been growing tall right up the middle of the drive where our cars' tires don't smash it all down.

About 15 minutes into the job I start to break a sweat and get into a rhythm with the swings. The sun felt good on my head and on my shoulders and I'm trekking right along. At about half an hour into the job, I turn around and see that I'm only about 50 yards from where I started. "Wow! This is going to be a long job." I carried on for about another ten minutes before I start wondering if the weed eater back at the cabin has any gas in it. That thought passes and I enjoy the feeling of letting my thoughts wander from one place to another. It felt great to be out there in the sun and working with no sense of a deadline. I swung at my own pace, watching the tall grass fall away.

I've really appreciated living at this pace. We're usually in bed by 8:00 p.m. everyday. There is usually some kind of physical work that needs to get done daily that keeps our bodies active. Since it is a little bit of a doing to get off the land, we eat out far less than we used to in Honolulu. Our meals have become simpler, but still very delicious and nutritious.

The physical transformation has become obvious. I've lost about 15 lbs. I feel far more rested. Since I don't have to put up appearances at any kind of job, my goatee has gotten long and scraggly, and I like it. One of the most marked physical transformations for me has been the clearing of the eczema I would get on my right hand. I've had really bad eczema on my right hand for over 16 years. The skin on my hand would be extremely dry, cracked and sometimes swollen. It would get especially bad if there was a lot of stress in my life. And now it is pretty much completely cleared up. I can actually see finger prints on my hand where there was only dry cracked skin before. Yes, life is a little bit less stressful here on the Big Island, but I think the clearing of the eczema is more about Kim and I making the leaps to live a more genuine and authentic life.

It's interesting that the eczema appeared almost immediately after I finished college. I think somewhere in my consciousness, the end of college marked the end of play time. It was time for me to be an adult. And under my belief systems at that time that meant getting serious about things and getting a job. It was about getting my proverbial S-H-I-T together. So I made decisions in my life that began to hedge me into a box that seemed to be "safe" and "sensible". My authentic self knew it, and was screaming out through the eczema in my hand.

Now I must give Kim and I credit for making some bold moves over the years as well. We got married by today's standards at a fairly young age. I was 24 and she was 22. When I told my mom the news about our marriage the first thing out of her mouth was a piercing, "WHAT?!" that shot through the house and hit Kim waiting in the living room. The next thing out of her mouth was a hissed,"Is she pregnant? You're too young." Everyone thought we were too young, but we did it anyway and we're so grateful we did. We've also lived and worked overseas and decided, when it was time to have a child, to have a home birth.

So we have made some bold moves over the years but, besides the decision to have Bodhi this move to the land has perhaps been the boldest to date. I am reassured, however, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, "Whatever you do, or dream, you can begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."

On my 40th birthday last month, we were driving into Hilo Town from being on the land all day. On the opposite side of the highway a man in his 60s was zooming by us on his Harley Davidson chopper. His long grey hair streaked behind him as the wind blew across his face. At that moment, that man epitomized fun to me. I looked at Kim and I said, "That's what the next part of my life is going to be about. Having fun." I've spent too many years of my life living in boxes and making compromises because I was afraid. It's time to be me.

By the way, I didn't finish cutting the grass. It got too hot and I got too hungry. The grass will be there tomorrow.

Humanure 101

Sawdust toilet and sawdust bucket under cover.

Step 1: Do your business in toilet on the right.

Step 2: Scoop sawdust from bucket on left.

Step 3: Pour sawdust on your deposits, making sure to cover them with a nice thick layer of sawdust.

Step 4: Spray layer of sawdust with water in order to lock in odors. Close toilet---dump out

contents in to compost bin when the sawdust seems high enough that it may touch your butt the next time you sit down!

Step 1: Bring full buckets o'honey, kitchen compost pail and soap to bin.

Step 2: Get straw to cover compost pile deposits.

Step 3: Open and dump all wonderfully non-smelly buckets of honey and kitchen waste in to middle of compost bin.

Step 4: Rinse all buckets with soap. Pour soapy sawdust water in to compost bin as well.

Step 5: All contents in bin including blackwater. Cover with a thick layer of straw and PAU!

It has been a truly amazing experience to be using this waste management system. It's easy. It's sanitary. And it's positively amazing that when you open the buckets to dump---they DO NOT smell--nor does the compost bin! You can literally stick your head in the middle of the compost bin and take a BIG whiff, all you smell is dirt and straw! Cool!

Check out the book: The Humanure Handbook, by Joseph Jenkins

www.josephjenkins.com

Just BE

It's a groovy kind of feeling, sitting in--the in between space.

The projects for operation "settle cabin" are complete.  Andrew and I can sit and be.  We are in that space where allowing and creation occurs.  It is exciting and a little scary.

Andrew left a little while ago to take Bodhi to school.  It had been rough to get Bodhi to go to sleep last night.  Andrew eventually had to lay down the consequence of taking all Bodhi's train playing away for today.  Not fun, but, unfortunately that seems to be the only thing that works as a leverage with the little bugger lately.  He is SO smart.  And he is working it!  Pushing those boundaries where ever he finds them.

This past Sunday we stopped at our local 7-11 for a bathroom break at the beginning of an hours long drive.  There were 3 toddlers under the age of 4 in the pick-up truck parked next to us.  The father had left them in the two door truck alone, without car seats, to go in the store.  We watched as the littlest got out and swaggered over in his diaper to the store doors.  The dad, apparently upset that the other two boys weren't watching their brother, raced out and proceeded, with intense anger, to slap each child quite hard.  The look on their faces as each got hit, repeatedly, was excruciating to witness.  Andrew and I drove away a bit shook up.  It got us talking later---we understand the desire to wallop our little one---boy do we feel it sometimes, but to actually see someone do it......makes it PROFOUNDLY clear  that that is something we would never want to really do!

The birds are singing happily, the dragonflies are fluttering about and the occasional confused coqui frog gives his little mating chirp--not realizing the moon is long gone.  It rained just enough last night to keep the catchment tank full, I completed my morning cleaning routine--of sweeping and cleaning up after breakfast and all that is left of my chores today is to put away all the wonderfully clean laundry that I did yesterday at my friend Carrie's house.

It is such a nice arrangement.  I bring our laundry to Carrie's every week and a half after I have dropped Bodhi at school.  We sit and talk, catch up on much needed girl time and have lunch.  I can get 4-5 loads of laundry done and folded before I have to leave to pick Bodhi up at 2:30pm.  On laundry days, Andrew will take our garbage to the dump in Hilo, do some errands and have some Starbuck's time for himself.   Lovely.

Today is the first day that is truly without agenda.  An in between space.  A time of reflection, of relaxation, of surrender and rest.  I know the "honey buckets" need to be composted today---but after that Andrew and I can just BE!

We are ready for more clarity.  Ready to get clear on the next steps.  Thanks for coming along on the journey.

The Work

Projects have slowed up a bit at the cabin.  We now have some time to contemplate our next moves.  We really are grateful that we have the luxury of time and the various experiences we've had since coming to the land to help us gain clarity on what we really want.  We'll spend the next month getting clear on how we want to flow income into our lives and how we'll approach our first building project on our land.

One of the last big projects we had was to lay out pea gravel around the entrance gate to the land.  The area was getting incredibly muddy with all the rain we've been having.  The mud wouldn't drain away and so it was getting that stinky stagnant mud smell.  Whenever we would pull up to the gate a huge mud puddle would be waiting for us to step in and trek that foul odor into our car.  It wasn't pleasant.  Jim had a huge pile of pea gravel on the land for us to use.  So when the right sunny day arrived, Kim and I decided it was time to cover up the bog.

We drove Blixie, our red wagon, to the gravel pile with two shovels, a rake and the enthusiasm to get the job done with as much fun as we could.  It took us eight car loads to get enough gravel to cover the area.    It was great.  The sun blazed down on us, we broke a tremendous sweat and we got to talk about stuff.  What a great way to spend the morning.  It was also just a fantastic work out.  We felt that great burning sensation in our arms, shoulders, and back muscles.  The twisting motion we needed to do to get the gravel from the pile into the car and then the from the car to the muddy bog added in a great ab workout.  We laughed at each other as we wondered whether real farmers think that their daily chores offer them a great ab workout.  Sometimes we feel like we are just playing at being farmers, carpenters, plumbers and electricians.  Perhaps we are just playing, but isn't it great to translate one's daily work to play.

We've had such a variety of work since coming to the land.  It's been everything from the mundane job of scrubbing mold off toys to the hair raising experience of being in the middle of a ladder climb and unable to step forward.   A few weeks back, we were putting up blinds on the upstairs lanai area to keep rain from coming onto the furniture.  We had the 24' ladder propped up against the house and I had geared myself up mentally for the climb.  I used to pride myself on being someone who was unafraid of heights and even death.  I would intellectually tell myself that if it was my time to go, I was ready to go.  This intellectual mantra I would tell myself was quickly dispelled a few years ago when we had a slight earthquake here in Hawai‘i.  I was laying on the sofa in our Honolulu living room when I heard the pre-earthquake sound of a jet stream and then the house started to shake like crazy.  I leapt off the sofa in a panic and my first thought was, "Oh my God!  The North Koreans are attacking!  We're all going to die."  There is sometimes a gap between what you tell yourself intellectually and what you actually put into practice.  I got some vindication from this about a year later when I saw the Ram Dass documentary, "Fierce Grace."  Dass had a stroke a few years back.  As he lay on the ground after the attack, Dass was startled that he did not have one holy, profound or spiritual thought.  He had spent decades being the guru to thousands and yet at this crossroad moment there was no thought of enlightenment.  It helped Dass reevaluate his teaching and his place on this planet.

And so there I was in the middle of this 24' ladder and it began bouncing quite a bit.  Sweat began stinging my eyes as it began to pour from my head.  I am generally unafraid of heights, but at that moment I was paralyzed.  In college, I had jumped out of an airplane from a mile above the earth.  That was pretty simple.  I leaned out of the plane and had the jump master, attached to me, do all the work.  I had, at that time, the benefit of an expert with me to make sure all the equipment was sound.  But now, halfway up the ladder, I was relying on my own judgement as to whether or not the top and bottom of the ladder were firmly placed.  Going up meant climbing into the unknown.  Going down meant facing the little demons in my head that would whisper, "coward" incessantly in my psyche.

Kim talked me through the process a bit and suggested that I take a break and come down from the ladder.  I wrestled with my demons for a little while and found the courage to step down from the ladder.  We actually found a better and safer way to put up the blinds that did not require us to use the ladder at all.  My ego was a little bruised from the climb down, but I'm working on not listening to him anyway.

Who are we when we are faced with those imminently dangerous moments?  Where do we find the strength to not run for cover?  It makes me think about the young men that crossed the border into Canada during the Vietnam War.  Was it more courageous of them to leave everything familiar with no thought of returning rather than follow the herd into the fire?

Kim and I have some work to do in the next few months.  It will be the process of getting as clear as we possibly can about what we want to create in our lives.  I know that this kind of work is all intertwined with the physical labor we've been doing, but it will be refreshing to focus primarily on the emotional and spiritual work.  And like the physical labor, if we approach it with an attitude of fun and courage, it will be great.      

Adaptation

There was a moment this morning that I wanted to pour concrete over the entire planet and yell at the top of my lungs, "I hate nature!"  I know it's one of those things that's not proper to say out loud.  It reminded me of when I was doing my ten day silent Vipassana Meditation retreat.  It was only one hour into the first day of meditation when I had the deep desire to stand up in the middle of the meditation hall that was full of ernest meditators and cry out, "OK!  I'm done!  Anybody want to go for some beer and ribs?"

How can you contend with billions of mold spores?  I came back to the land after dropping Bodhi off at school to find Kim looking very frustrated.  When I was out, she was cleaning up things trying to get things in order so we could have a relaxing day.  Today was going to be a day that we could just lounge around, read books and work on the computer.  We haven't had that kind of day in a long time.  Yesterday, we finished the last major project for the cabin, which was to put in the floor for the bathroom.  We were really looking forward to the break.  While she was cleaning up, she discovered mold had carpeted most of Bodhi's wooden toys.  All of these wonderful toys we bought for him had a fuzzy grey covering.  It was disheartening.  We bought these toys in a conscious effort to have more healthy toys for Bodhi and yet in this environment the mold just loves the porous untreated wood.

I wanted to chop down every tree that acts as a hiding place for mold spores or gnats or flies.  I wanted to dump concrete on every puddle that acts as a breeding ground for the mosquitos that attack Bodhi and make him look like he has the pox.  But what we did instead was to put all his infected toys in a plastic container and make plans to clean them up tomorrow.  We decided that the sun was too shiny today and there was other things we wanted to do with our time.

We do realize the mold is still there and it has provided us with the gift of good dialogue.  Kim and I got talking about mold, what it means to us, and why are we having it in our lives.  The talk about mold got us talking about how we feel about being on the land and some of the insecurities we feel about what we are doing.  It was a really good conversation that brought light to our dark places.  All of these situations we are going through are truly getting us clearer on what we want.  I am grateful for them.  It was interesting when Kim was looking up information on clearing mold, it seems that mold thrives in dark places much like how our shhtuff likes to hide out in the dark places of our psyche.  Shine the light in and the mold goes away.  Clear the clutter and the mold won't have a place to hide.  It was quite profound.

Kim had a good point about coming to a new environment.  She said that when we bring all of our old stuff to our new environment, there is going to be a process of seeing what works and what doesn't work in the new place.  If it works, great, keep it.  If it doesn't work, then adapt it to work or get rid of it.  It's a process of adaptation we are going through right now and we are seeing what works and what doesn't work.  We feel pretty confident that we will get Bodhi's toys cleaned up and more resilient to the wet East Hawai‘i weather.

After we packed the toy's into the plastic bins, we needed to recover from feeling like we'd been trounced on by nature.  We went upstairs and sprawled out on our bed.  The room we sleep in has windows all around.  We were surrounded by towering ‘ohia lehua trees and the sun was blazing, drying everything out.  We played the "Glad Game" to raise our spirits.  The "Glad Game" is a great way to raise your vibrations.  It's simply going through a list of what we are glad about at that moment.  We came up with so many things, the sun, the trees, the breeze, a healthy marriage, a happy and intelligent son, and that we live in this beautiful place for free.  I joked that it would be even better to live in a more modern place with maid and nanny services for free.  I know it may seem a little pollyanna to play the game, but if it works whose to dispute it.  While we were lying there, one thing that I was truly glad about was that I was lying next to my wife at 10:30 in the morning on a weekday and enjoying the feeling of being free.

One of the hallmarks of any species in nature is its ability to adapt.  Kim and I are adapting.  We are learning what works, releasing what doesn't and being willing to grow.