Striking the Balance (written by Andrew)

I went for a run this morning.

The blue sky was dotted playfully with wispy clouds, as a fair breeze blew across my face. It felt great to be out on the road with the sound of crunching gravel beneath my feet, as I playfully dodged piles of horse poop scattered before me. As beads of sweat formed on my forehead, I began to think about a copy of Men's Health Magazine that came in the mail the other day. I wouldn't normally order this magazine but it was part of an offer that I took advantage of one sordid evening a couple of months back.

Some of you may remember a couple of blogs ago, I wrote about our housesitting experience at Erin and Ryan's. I talked about having a love affair with their shower and being blissed out by ice cubes. Well, other elicit activities took place while we stayed at the magical house. Every night after Bodhi went to sleep we would turn the lights down, get cozy on the sofa, and stare at this black rectangle box called a TV. We couldn't resist.

One night while caressing the remote, we came across a Kevin Trudeau infomercial, he was selling a book about how to get free money. Wow, free money! Who doesn't want free money? In a hypnotic trance, I dialed the 1-800 number and ordered the book. As part of the sale they were offering magazine subscription trials. If you tried a magazine, free for 60 days, you could get all of these gift certificates for places like Home Depot. WOOHOO! Free money--sign me up. So about six weeks later, a copy of Men's Health Magazine arrived at my PO Box.

Kim and I watch TV like we drink alcohol. We don't do it very often and when we do, we try to enjoy it as much as we can without feeling guilty. And where we may let Bodhi try a sip of wine or beer, he'll never get a full glass. And so it goes with the TV as well. Bodhi goes to a beautiful school that works really hard to keep the children free from media. I actually saw one of his teachers flinch ever so slightly when one of the kids in the class mentioned--Spongebob. It was as if the kid said, "Hey eff you lady." It was kind of funny at the time, but I really see the importance of what they are doing at the school. They are holding that space of innocence for our child during a time when his imagination is starting to bloom. It's a beautiful thing to have your child's creativity fostered in this way and not bombarded by the tremendous over-stimuli that comes pumping out of the TV. We've heard the comment that Bodhi goes to a hippie school, and yes it is a bit that way, but we like it like that. I think it is better, at four, that Bodhi is in a touchy-feely school environment, rather than knowing the latest antics of Spongebob.

For a really good discourse on the state of TV in the 1950s and the present day, see pioneer television journalist, Edward Murrow's speech in the amazing 2005 George Clooney film, Good Night and Good Luck. Check it out on Youtube--http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1cfwsfGqgPM

Anyway, speaking of media, the Men's Health Magazine was floating in my head this morning during my run. It's been about ten years since I last picked up an issue and it certainly has changed. It used to have articles about work out routines, diet regimes, or fitness product reviews. But this issue, that I contemplated on my run, was just full of sex advice. I'm not a prude about sex, maybe on an unconscious level, that is why it was playing on my mind. But what was really sticking out for me was an article that they had on different levels of fitness at different times in one's life. The article was saying that for men that are 40+ like me, it's most important to focus on flexibility and strength. Wow! There's something to meditate on--flexibility and strength.

I think about being the bull with the tenacity to push forward towards one's goals combined with the willingness of the butterfly to trust the winds of life to take it where it needs to be. Balance seems to be the key here. Balance with everything, even the TV.

I leave you with another gem from Bodhi--So a few mornings ago as Bodhi is using the sawdust toilet, he turns to me and asks, "Dad, how come our toilet is outside? I want a bathroom inside the house."--Flexibility and strength.

And so it is.

Transitions (written by Kim)

Our son is turning 4 this Thursday. I keep asking myself---how did that happen? Cliche, yes! But, it does happen so fast. And I have two years of photos to print and six months of video to upload. Gonna be pulling some late nights.

Once we get a steady stream of electricity that is.

We left Oahu with a commitment--to be authentic. It was not the outer geography of the destination that was important, but rather, the inner geography of the soul. Thank you for following this journey with us. These past few months have been filled with a lot of questions, a lot of discussions, a lot of confusion and finally a lot of clarity.

HERE IS WHAT WE ARE CLEAR ABOUT:

1. We value community. And although you can call on your friendly neighbors up on the land, the nearest one is a mile away and no one in our vicinity has kids. Our dear friends were originally going to be living on the property next to ours, but their plans changed and now, so have ours.

2. Our son is a city kid and I admit it---so are we! In our great desire for authentic, suck the marrow out life experiences, moving to an off-grid cabin in the woods with a toddler in tow ranks pretty high on the scale of raw and juicy. Contrast brings clarity. And we are clear now that we love on demand electricity, refrigeration and toilets that don't need dumping. You also know of my husband's deep affection for hot showers and ice.

What does Bodhi want to do in his free time?
Walk in our abundant woods? No.
Run around on our huge "lawn"? No.
Get dirty? No.

He wants to see his friends. He wants to go to the astronomy center, the ocean center, the playground or the zoo. He wants to go to Aunty Karen's house and so do we.


Here are some recent gem's from Bodhi:
-"Mom, do you know what I'm going to dream about tonight?"--"Flush Toilets."

-"Mom, we need smooth roads, not bumpy ones. And a gate that opens easy."

-"Dad, I want county water."
(While in the bath, Andrew told him not to blow bubbles with the catchment water--he could do that at Aunty Karen's house because she has county water)

-Andrew:
"Kim, the block ice is melting faster in the cooler now that it's warmer. It only lasted 4 days. We gotta go to the store today."
Bodhi:
"Dad, you just need to get a refrigerator. That'll fix it for you."


Our long term plan for the land was to build a very comfortable homestead---but I ask you, how long shall we wait for comfort? And when will the community come to our 9.26 acres?



3. We love Hilo. It's the perfect town for us. It has character and charm. It has good local restaurants and Starbuck's. It's not too fast---not too slow--it's just right.


4. We love to work together and we love to write. We have been tossing around income producing ideas for months. Searching for just the right authentic vehicle. Desiring to answer Andrew's mom's favorite question, "But, how you goin' live!?"

We jumped, knowing the net would appear. We thought that net was the land and all the opportunities for growth held in it's forested arms, but now we know the land was the way the universe got us to come home. We would have never moved back to the Big Island without it. And we remember our dear friend, Lois, telling us once---"The Big Island is nice....you should move back there."

We listened Lois. The land was not our net, but rather our springboard. We leave it's beautiful potential to it's next steward. We leave it grateful for the gifts it has given us. Our family is truly grateful for the simple things and will always value living simply and lightly on the earth. I know that makes Lois proud.

So what is that income producing activity? Freelance Commercial Writing. Check out our website: www.prunecopywriting.com


HERE IS THE PLAN:

-We have listed the land for sale and we know that the right person will buy it at the right time.
-We have launched our copywriting business with passion and gusto
-We are making future plans for a move into Hilo town
-We are grateful for the cabin we live in and plan to stay there until the right time to move becomes clear
-We continue to stay authentic and true to ourselves

As you adjust your sails, the geography may change along the journey, but the destination is always the same--home, to yourself.


Our first ever blog entry---Andrew wrote, "I'm going to the woods because I, like Thoreau, wished to live deliberately." Even Thoreau moved back to the city. I am glad we are in good company.



(For you Dear Darrell S.---thank you for the gentle nudge to write. We've been wanting to for awhile)

The Simple Life?

I've been having an affair.

Kim, Bodhi, and I are housesitting for our friends Ryan and Erin while they take their two little ones to visit family in Minnesota. Ryan and Erin have a beautiful home in the Hawaiian Shores subdivision. As the sun goes down nightly, we sit on their covered lanai and look out at the vast Pacific Ocean. The expanse goes on, seeming endless, until it touches shore with the west coast of the Continental U.S. As the sun goes down we step into the house, I flick a switch and lights come on magically powered by some electric source far, far, away. I go into the kitchen, turn on the faucet and a flood of water, clean enough to drink, pours over my hands and onto the evening dishes. Best of all, after Bodhi is down for the night, I step quietly into the bathroom, take off my clothes and move into the embrace of a perfectly pressured hot shower.

I am in love . . . I think.

What happens when the romance dies?

A few months ago we posted up a blog titled Humanure 101. It showed the steps we take to manage our bathroom waste out on the land. In the entry, the whole process of taking the five gallon buckets out to the compost heap, dumping,and washing had a fiercely rugged and romantically independent feel to it. A few days ago, I was out at the compost heap piling our human waste into the bins and rather than feeling rugged, I felt grossed out.

Our water system, which a few months ago seemed, to me, to be something grand, along the lines of the Roman Aqueducts, just recently produced water with little mosquito larvae wriggling in it.

There have been many occasions where Kim and I have huddled around three flashlights to read at night, our rechargeable lamps completely crapped out because the solar panels didn't charge them enough during the day. It felt a lot like one of the opening scenes of Sam Mendes' 2009 film, Away We Go. Two of the main characters, Verona--played by Maya Rudolph and Burt--played by John Krasinski, sit in the dark of their living room. It's the dead of winter and the electricity is out, they are expecting a baby and they are unsure of how life will unfold for them.

Verona: Are we screw ups?
Burt: What do you mean?
Verona: I mean we're 34.
Burt: 33
Verona: We don't even have the basic things figured out.
Burt: We're not screw ups.
Verona: We have cardboard windows.

So are we screw ups or are we just people with some 21st Century sensibilities living like 19th Century pioneers?

One of the initial thoughts we had as we embarked on this journey to the land was that we wanted to live deliberately. Like Thoreau we wanted, " to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." Thoreau and his New England Transcendentalist sought refuge from the industrial ecomomy amidst nature and the simple life. The Transcendentalists lacked the urban rebelliousness of their European Bohemian counterparts, but they both stood in opposition of the Bourgeois sensibilities of the time.

So are we just expressing some kind of Bohemian rebellion out in the woods? Aren't you supposed to get that kind of stuff out of your system in your 20s?

The other day, Kim, Bodhi and I were having a meal in the outside eating area of Island Naturals in Pahoa. A group of white 20 something girls with rasta dreads were on the same long table as us. They excitedly talked about the communal living situation they were in and how cool it was that there were no showers and only cold baths and how fantastic it was to live without electricity.
After they left, I looked at Kim and said, "Oh my God! We're living like 20 year olds."
Kim smiled and corrected me saying, "No, at least we own our land."

At that moment I wanted to go back to Erin and Ryan's place open up the freezer, feel the blast of cold air hit my face, fill my glass with endless amounts of ice, sit on the sofa basking in the glow of light powered up by those magicians at HELCO, sipping delicious cold,cold,cold water with the condensation getting my hands wet as I fantasized about my next hot shower.

Kim and I are pretty simple people, but admittedly we do really like nice things. Writer David Brooks coined the term Bobo--Bourgeois-Bohemian to describe those that have wed the bourgeois world of capitalist enterprise to the hippie values of the bohemian counterculture. According to Brooks, for example, a bobo believes that spending $15,000 on a media center is vulgar, but spending $15,000 on a slate shower stall so that you can experience the Zenlike rhythms of nature is a necessity. We have found ourselves in the midst of this nuptial relationship.

Can we, like Thoreau, suck the marrow out of life while zooming down the highway in our Volvo XC90 with the air conditioning booming out full blast? Can we live deliberately while enjoying some of the fine amenities 21st Century living has to offer?

I believe the answer to both questions is a resounding "yes".

I am reminded of a story I was told at the Huna workshop I attended in March. The story was about Master Kumu Hula Uncle George Naope. The story goes that Uncle George was talking to a group and asked them if anyone knew, "My Little Grass Shack." Hands went up in the air and spontaneously the audience starting singing,
"I wanna go back to my little grass shack in Kealakekua Hawaii. . ."
In the midst of the audiences' rendition, Uncle George leans into the microphone and says, "Not me."
This man, who was the keeper and steward of a very sacred and very traditional art form, more than happily embraced the modern world. I believe that he was aware of himself, so that he could function deliberately in both the modern and traditional worlds.

I believe the key to living deliberately is attentiveness. Are we truly attentive to what is going on around us? Are we aware of the elements around us, whether we are dumping our human waste into a compost heap or downloading a new app onto our iphone? Are we aware that we live in a vast field of energy that connects all of us and that from this vast field we create our reality?

Awareness will guide us in the right direction to keep life zesty and romantic.
Awareness will help us realize how delicious the marrow is as we are sucking it out of life no matter how we do it.

Isn't it ironic that Thoreau used the marrow metaphor even though he was a vegetarian? I guess crunching all the fiber out of a carrot stick isn't as poetic.

Dad Remembered

At my father's memorial service my two brothers, my niece, my three nephews and I delivered our own eulogies for my dad. Here is a copy of my eulogy as shared on April 23, 2010 at the Pearl City Community Church in Pearl City Hawaii.


I want to start by telling a story.

When I was a little boy, my dad would take me boogie boarding out at Kahe Point. We drove to the beach with the windows down, the warm leeward breeze blowing into our old green Plymouth Valiant, swirling around the smell of cigarettes as dad took long drags from his Kools, making huge plumes of dragon like smoke come out of his nostrils while concentrating on the road. From the back seat I could see his face in the rear view mirror. A little bit of weekend stubble grew on his chin.
On AM radio K-59 Patti Page sang out asking,
“How much is that doggie in the window?”
I would “arf, arf” to myself along with the song.
The anticipation of being at the beach was so exciting.
I felt so free.
Everything was left behind.

At the beach our bags were quickly unloaded. With shirts pulled off and swim trunks on, Dad and I walked to the water, the boogie board dragging behind us like a dog on a leash. The clear water shimmered with sparkles from the sun.

It was so deep and so blue.

Dad plunged in first. The water flowed through his receding hairline as I splashed in after him.

Dad stood waist deep, as I lay prone on the board waiting for my ride. He had a gift for finding the right wave.
“OK you ready?”
I clenched tighter on the board as dad started his countdown,
“3. . . 2. . .1. . .” WHOOOSH!
He launched me down, down,—Deeper and Deeper into the face of the wave.
Ocean spray in my face; I could smell the sea and taste the salt on my lips as I slid onto the sandy beach.

I turned around and saw dad swimming out into the dark, out into the deep. He did one final stroke and rolled over on his back. His round, white, middle-aged belly seemed mountainous as he lay flat, floating at the surface of the water. His arms spread out to capture as much of the sun as he could and his ears lay just below the surface of the water so he could experience the silence of the sea. There he lay, so even, so buoyant, so anchor free. In the bright quiet of the day he just drifted, drifted, drifted away.

He was so relaxed.

Dad did a lot of things for me throughout his life. But there was one thing he never did. . .

He never fed me fear.

I grew up with the luxury of knowing that my dad would never physically punish me. It was not in his nature. He was a very gentle man.

“Ho I going get lickens from my dad” my friends would cry out when we got busted.

Any time I took a misstep in my behavior or I somehow missed the mark, I knew I would get a calm talk from my dad.

Senior Year of High School—I’m driving to the Winterball with my date. I make a right turn into the parking structure of the Ilikai Hotel—crash--car door smashed—I was in the wrong lane to make that turn. Nobody was hurt. At the pay phone I nervously dialed home—one ring, two rings, three rings—“Hello” said a low voice—thank God it was dad. He listened to my story and calmly told me to go enjoy my dance, there was nothing we could do about it then, we would work it out in the morning.

He took the time to understand situations without ever resorting to anger.

Growing up I felt confident in exploring my world without being hedged in by walls built up by fear. This kind of gentle approach carried on into college.

When it came time for me to decide on a major for college, I asked dad his opinion. He looked at me and said something very important—for him college was not a trade school, rather it was an opportunity for discovery, an opportunity to find out what kinds of things interest you most.

His advice echoes the sentiments of the Reverend Dr. Howard Thurman, an educator and theologian whose writings greatly influenced Martin Luther King Jr. Thurman wrote,

“Don’t worry about what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and do that. Because what the world needs are people who have come alive.”

Dad gave me permission to follow my bliss. Whatever that may be. As a kid I joked that when I grow up I want to be a Hare Krishna dancing around Waikiki playing drums and selling flowers. He looked at me, smiled, and said—

“whatever makes you happy.”

I ‘m grown up now and no offence to any devotees of Krishna, but I have not joined up. But as far as my dad was concerned that would have been ok.

He was ok when I had long hair
He was ok when I shaved it bald
He was ok when I got an earring
He was ok when I got a belly button ring
He was ok when I got a tattoo
He was ok when I was a vegetarian
He was ok when I was a tremendous carnivore
He was ok when I was a preppy
He was ok when I wore second hand clothes from Goodwill
He was ok when I got married straight out of college
He was ok when Kim and I decided to have our baby at home
He was ok when I quit a very secure job and decided to go homestead off the grid on the Big Island

As long as I was happy.

Not once did my dad ever infuse doubt or fear into my life. He may have had a few questions to make sure my head was screwed on properly, but then he would simply sit back and watch. His open mindedness and his gentle ways have truly been a gift in my life.

Dad, I believe, truly understood the words of the American scholar and mythologist, Joseph Campbell when he said,

“Follow your bliss and the Universe will open doors where there were only walls.”

I’d like to end by telling you another story. About a week ago, I drove into Hilo after picking Bodhi up from school. I sped along going about 45 miles per hour when out of the corner of my eye, I see going in the opposite direction this guy in his 70s zooming past on a chopper style Harley Davidson. My head jerked fast.
“Oh my God!”
“It was dad on a Harley.”
Same round, shaved Asian head with a cool laid back expression.
This guy had it going on—
black leather jacket,
blue jeans
black leather riding boots
and a rugged Harley that said—I gotta go—I’m following my bliss.
I got home, got dinner going and forgot about seeing the guy until Kim came up to me and said,
“Oh my God, I almost forgot to tell you. Today as I drove home there was this guy behind me.”
I stopped her and asked,
“was he riding a Harley and looked like somebody we know?”
“Yes!”
But for Kim instead of him zooming by, he followed her for several blocks and she got a good look at him, and said he was the spitting image of dad, with a gold hoop earring.

We saw the same guy, at about the same time, at two different places in Hilo.

That was dad’s Easy Rider spirit sending us a message. “I’m free!” he was saying. “I’m free.”

We are surrounded by about 2,000,000 bits of information every second. Our minds can only take in 126 bits of information a second. So at that moment when the guy zoomed by on his Harley, out of the 2,000,000 bits of stimuli that was surrounding me, he was somehow one of the 126 bits that I actually took in.

That’s amazing—

The 126 bits of information we take in depends on our own unique beliefs and life experiences. This creates for each of us our own unique bank of memories. So your recollections of my dad are completely different from his or hers or mine. We all have our own unique individual picture of Rodney Junichi Arakawa in our minds. This is a beautiful piece of treasure to cherish.

The Reverend Sandye Wilson points out that, often eulogies are used as a time to present a person as someone who walked on water. Dad could certainly float on water, but walk—probably not. It is important instead, she says, to present the person as evidence of humanity
with all the joys and complications
and at the end we can say thank God he lived and
thank God we were loved by him.

Always Blessings

My dad playing dress up--circa 1940. Looks just like Bodhi!


E kala mai ia‘u--please forgive me.

It has been a while since I last wrote something on this blog. What a whirlwind March has been. Instead of transgressing into reasons why I didn't write, I will highlight all the blessings March brought.

On March 11--My dad, Rodney Arakawa, transitioned from this life we shared together. His soul was ready to make that walk over the rainbow. It was a blessing that my mom was here on the Big Island with us when my dad passed and she was able to get some support during her time here. I am so tremendously grateful to Kim for organizing many of the details that come up when someone dies. I was in Kona for nine days after my dad died and Kim held it together for all of us.

From March 13-21 I was in Kona for a Huna Workshop. It was an incredibly transformational week of study. One of the highlights for me was a trip to Volcanoes National Park. I had been to the park on many different occasions, but I had never experienced it the way I did with the Huna group. The energy I felt and the intensity of the connection to the place was amazing and life altering. If anyone is interested in studying Huna with the group--check out the Empowerment Partnership at nlp.com.

At the end of the workshop, Kim and Bodhi drove out to Kona to meet me and we stayed a couple of extra nights at the Outrigger Keauhou Beach Resort. The hotel is a really fantastic property. The land belongs to Kamehameha Schools and they are doing a stellar job at preserving the sacredness of the site. Bodhi had a lot of fun being at the hotel and he also got a chance to have a trolley ride that took us down Ali‘i Drive. Fun, Fun, Fun. And it was a great way to launch his Spring Break.

Spring Break 2010 for Bodhi--It was his first Spring Break. No, crazy romps to Ft. Lauderdale or Palm Springs. It was a few days in Kona and park time in Hilo, Volcano and Kalapana. Bed time has been the usual 6:30, what a blessing. He's been growing up so fast.

Here's a little equation I want to share with you--
C>E
In this equation C=cause and E=effect.
Life is about cause and effect.
The question is, which side of the cause and effect equation are you on? Are you the cause in your life, or are you the effect of things in you life?
To gain maximum power, take responsibility for everything that happens in your universe.
On the cause side of the equation are results.
On the effect side of the equation are reasons--all the reasons you are not getting results.
I recommend getting on the cause side of the equation.
Equation is from the Empowerment Partnership.

Again--E kala mai ia‘u for the gap in the blog writing--March just zoomed by.

Happy Easter everyone!--Let's all celebrate the life force that goes on and on.

Got some Honey?

It was a wonderful Sunday for the Maku‘u Farmers' Market. The tsunami warnings had all passed us by, the breeze was cool and just a hint of light mist floated around on the air.

Part of our routine when we get to the market is for Bodhi to get his strawberry smoothie. We wait patiently in line as the smoothie maker throws in strawberries, freshly squeezed pineapple juice, ice cubes and a little bit of coconut milk into the blender and whips together a taste sensation that one sip will involuntarily make your eyes close and go, "AHHH. . ."

Ernie Cruz Sr. played country western music and captivated Bodhi with his fast guitar playing. Kim and Bodhi watched Uncle Ernie under the covered tent as I went about getting some veggies for us. I got a loaf of fresh, locally baked sour dough bread, a dozen eggs from happy local chickens, and organic kale and collards grown by local Hare Krishna folks. What a bounty of great stuff.

I bought a freshly made crepe chocked full with shrimps, spinich, artichoke hearts, avocado and lightly dressed with white sauce for our lunch. We sat and ate as Uncle Ernie crooned out a really good version of "Lucille". I couldn't help thinking of the the Frank Delima version--"Eh wot Lucille! You going leave me now? Da kids nevah eat yet, mango season not pau . . . Oh wow! Lau Lau!"

After lunch we walked around the stalls and Bodhi was thrilled to do some shopping. We found a guy selling all sorts of garage sale type items. Bodhi scored a free toy from the guy and bought a used copy of a Curious George book for a dollar. He was so excited about his purchase that he showed his items to each vendor booth we stopped at.

As we were about to leave the market, Kim took Bodhi to the bathroom and I waited outside of the restroom area. The sun had come out, so I put my sunglasses on to keep my eyes shaded.

As I waited a guy in his mid 50s, wearing an Indonesian batik print shirt, comes up to me.
He leans into me and whispers, "Hey man, you want some honey?"
He opens the plastic bag he's carrying and I see about five jars of honey. I tell him no thanks and explain that I already did my shopping.
He looks really disappointed and tells me,"Ah man--I was hoping to trade some honey for some ganja."
I was a little taken aback by what he said. I mean, no judgement on my part if he wants to smoke pot, but I had never been approached in that way before.
I just looked at him and said, "Sorry, can't help you man."

Kim and Bodhi came out of the bathroom. Before Kim could say anything to me, I asked her to step back and look at me objectively as if she didn't know me.
"Now look at me and tell me, do I look like a person that would have some weed on me?"
She stared at me for a moment then said, "Well. . . Actually. . . Maybe."
I laughed at her assessment and thought about how very interesting and inaccurate outward appearances can be.

It is very true that you cannot judge a book by its cover. It is especially true, I believe, here on Hawai‘i Island. At our local health food store you may see this grungy, grungy, dreadlocked couple with three snotty faced kids in tow shopping for groceries. When they leave the store, we see them all pile into a very late model Range Rover and zoom off. Trustafarians? Maybe, or maybe just people that would have ganja in their pockets. You never can tell.

There's this African American man in his 60s that walks around Hilo Town. He carries a big tribal looking walking stick and just cruises around. I would often see him sitting in front of Bear's Coffee. I always thought he was a homeless guy, until I was told that he is actually a world famous painter whose works have been displayed in the White House.

There are countless other eccentrics walking around Hilo Town that I believe have astounding and unexpected stories to tell of their lives. Michael Franti, lead singer of Spearhead, reminds us in his song, "Stay Human" that, "All the freaky people make the beauty of the world."

I believe the Big Island fosters a very live and let live environment. People feel free to express themselves without fear of judgement of what it looks like. I believe we all have a little bit of a freaky person inside of us that is desiring to get out. Let that person out, it'll feel so good. Nobody is watching really. People are too caught up in their own affairs to really care.

So dance like no one is watching
Sing out loud like you're in your car by yourself
If you have long hair, let it down and let it swing free
Show off those tattoos that have been hiding
Say "no" to the razor for a week--men and women
Laugh out loud
Be free
Nobody's watching--really

So do I look like the kind of guy, that would be carrying a bag of weed in my back pocket?
Who cares?

Local Roots

This past Saturday we took the beautiful drive along the Hamakua Coast to Laupahoehoe for the Laupahoehoe Music Festival. The weather was spectacular and the music was really great.

As we turned off the main highway and descended down the winding road that took us to Laupahoehoe Point Beach Park, the ocean opened up before us in all of it's glorious expansiveness. As the road narrowed on our way down, drivers on the opposite side of the road got friendlier and friendlier as each us became more and more aware of the others' presence.

When we got to the beach park, festival staff members guided us through the parking area and onto a grassy area. I rolled down my window to get parking directions from the guy working the grassy area. His instructions went something like this,
"Ho--OK bruddah--hea's wat you going do--Pull up ova dea an den back um in right in front of da black cah ova dea--Make shua you leave nuff room so da oddah guy can get out." Simple enough. I nodded, said, "tank you--my bruddah.", and parked.

As I got Bodhi out of his car seat, he looked at me a little puzzled and asked, "Daddy, how come the Uncle( the parking lot attendant) was talking so funny?"

Kim and I shot each other "Uh-OH!" glances.

We consider ourselves very conscientious parents. We work hard to make sure that he has as many experiences that we can set up for him to aid his development. But that morning at Laupahoehoe we realized that we had neglected an area. It was about exposure. He wasn't getting enough doses of his local culture, he wasn't hearing enough Pidgin English.

Kim and I basically speak Standard American English and so does our very articulate three and half year old. I grew up speaking primarily pidgin. The pidgin is part of who I am and part of my cultural make up. It, like any other language is part of how I understand and perceive the world. It is a vibrant language with many subtle nuances. Also, it is a connecting point for people who grew up in this glorious place.

There have been attempts in the past to squeeze the pidgin out of Hawai‘i's youth and homogenize the language into Standard American English. I actually hear less and less pidgin being spoken as Hawai‘i's local culture has become more closely aligned with the culture of the rest of the Continental U.S. I hear more of our youths' language emulating the stars they see on MTV, rather than that of their local culture.

Perhaps I have a cultural responsibility to expose my son to more Pidgin English. It is a growing language. It is very different from the pidgin my grandmother spoke on the plantation to communicate with all that gathered here to make a new life. But it is still a part of the culture of this wonderful place.

So---Afta we wen pahk da cah, we wen go check out da music an all da ono grindz had fo eat. Burah, was so good fun! Me an Bodhi wen go check out da watah. He neva have da kine swim shorts, so he wen jus go in wit his bebahdees. He neva keah. Bodhi had one Redondo Hot Dog fo lunch--he wen bite um, look at me and say--"Ho Daddy--dis Hot Dog is winnah, winnah--chicken dinnah."

Actually, I made the last sentence up. He actually took one bite of the hot dog and said, "Daddy, this hot dog is really yummy." We're working on it.

The Bliss List

In the January/February 2010 edition of "Cook's Illustrated", Cook's founder and editor Christopher Kimball writes "The Bliss List" on his editorial page. Kimball does a great job of distilling a few of the more blissful moments of his life into a few delightfully written paragraphs. To see Kimball's list go to http://www.cooksillustrated.com/byissue/default.asp?doctypeid=12&selDate=153

I thought it would be fun to write my own bliss list. I admit that I cannot possibly jot down every single blissful moment of my life. There are countless wonderful moments that I have shared with Kim and Bodhi that would make the list stretch far beyond what could be feasibly written down. But here are a few that I came up with to share.

July 1, 2006. Our Nu‘uanu cottage is quiet. Kim and Bodhi are sleeping on our bed. The midwife and doula have gone home. We all just went through 31 hours of labor. I sit on the sofa with the morning sunlight streaking in through our picture windows. Tears are flowing down my cheeks as I soak in all the joy and fear of new fatherhood.

March 20, 1994. I'm standing at the altar of a small candle lit chapel in Manoa. A string quartet plays as the murmur of the guests' voices vibrate through the space. Suddenly voices stop and the quartet begins to plays Bach's Suite #3 as Kim comes walking down the aisle toward me.

Early morning May 2001. Dawn patrol with my brother Scott. The water is icy cold as we paddle out at Schwabbies. The waves are breaking about 3-4 feet and glassy. Every time I would take off on a perfect right my eyes would squint up from the bright sun coming up in the east. No crowd.

October 1989 New York City Central Park. It was a beautiful Indian Summer day. The leaves were just starting to come into their autumn glory. The air was crisp and dry. I was away for college. It was the first time away from Hawai‘i. A group of friends and I had spent the day going to museums and taking in the city. In the park we came across three guys playing guitars, drinking beers and singing "Three Little Birds." I was 20 and I was free.

March 1991 on a train somewhere between Riga and St. Petersburg. My head and the sleeping car was spinning from drinking too much homemade whiskey from the Latvian compartment mates I had just met. We attempted to communicate in broken English, broken Russian, broken French and tremendous amounts of hand and facial gestures. We must have been pretty successful at communicating because we laughed and laughed all night long.

March 2008 Kurtistown. Kim and I are standing next to Jim and looking at our bull dozer guy Bill in his D-7. Bill fires up his engine and the sound of it rumbles through all of us. Kim and I look at each other with looks that are mix of "WOOOOOHOOOO!" and "Oh My God! What are we doing?" We walk behind Bill's dozer as it clears what will be the future driveway into our land.

Thanksgiving 1999--Kim and I are Innkeepers at Kia‘i Kai Bed and Breakfast. We wake up in the morning and are greeted by the wonderful smell of cooked food. It smelled as if someone had cooked us breakfast. But there was no one there but us. We had no guests booked for the whole weekend. About an hour later, our neighbor comes into the house and thanks us for letting her use our oven to cook her turkey while we slept. When she started to cook at her house, she ran out of gas and knew we never locked our place. She came in at three in the morning, turned on the oven, roasted the bird and was so quiet she didn't even wake us. I love that kind of neighborliness.

Fall 1989--Running through Stony Brook Village to the Long Island Sound. Fall leaves floating down all around me and the streets are quiet. When I get to the beach it is absolutely empty and unlike anything I had seen in Hawai‘i. The fine sand was blown into dramatic dunes and tall grasses danced in the breeze. It was stunning.

Summer 1995 Kyoto Japan. Kim and I are walking around the streets of Kyoto and come across the biggest Bon Dance we had ever seen. The air was still and humid as we joined the masses in the circle dance. We danced all night long and didn't care if we knew all the steps.

January 2010--On the land. Jim came by the other day on his tractor. Bodhi, Kim and I were on the deck and saw him drive up. He stopped in to chat a bit. As he was leaving, he invited Bodhi to sit up at the driver's seat with him and steer the tractor. Bodhi got to pull the lever that raised and lowered the front bucket. When Bodhi got off the tractor he had this thrilled look that was worth a million dollars. He told Kim and I as he walked away from the tractor, "I want a tractor like Uncle JIm's."

Every night before we close our eyes to sleep, Kim and I go through the process of recalling to each other what we appreciated about the day. This ritual of ours really helps to keep us open to all the wonderfulness that is happening around us all the time. There is, I believe, always something to appreciate and be grateful for. It's all a matter of deciding to see it. This "Bliss List" is in no way a complete list, it couldn't possibly be. It was in a way just a fun exercise in recalling some of the joy I've experienced in the last few years.

There is so much wonderfulness happening in the world. What's on your "Bliss List"?

If you haven't had a chance to see this video clip of writer and adventurer Mike Dooley, check it out. It's well worth a watch.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4PH-6FTraz4

Seeing Clearly

I just bought my first pair of reading glasses a couple of days ago.

It was a slow process of realizing that I needed reading glasses. It started with not being able to read bills at dimly lit restaurants. Then it proceeded to moving reading material closer and farther from my face to get a good focus on the words. I even started having a hard time reading the numbers to the combination lock on the gate to our land. It was time.

Kim and I were in Longs Drug Store shopping for some things to get rid of the cockroaches that have been skittering around our place. I was in Honolulu all last week to visit with my dad and to help my mom with a few things. One sleepless night while I was away, Kim kept hearing those critters run on the beams above our bed. It can get incredibly quiet up on the land at night and so the sound of the running of the roaches was definitely amplified. It freaked Kim out. It would have freaked me out too. We're trying to balance our tree-hugging ways with our total disgust of the gigantic B-52s. So besides getting a couple of packs of chemically laden Combat roach traps, we are concocting a mixture of baking soda and sugar. We are supposed to spread the mixture on different locations around the cabin. Supposedly the roaches cannot resist the sugar, but eating the baking soda will dehydrate them. Also we will be spreading around bay leaves, which are supposed to be absolutely repugnant to the six legged fiends.

So while in Longs we decide that it is time for me to get some reading glasses. There were a whole array to choose from, everything from old fuddy duddy to über cool. We paid a little more for a pair that fell on the über cool end of the spectrum. Hey, I'm only 40 and it actually makes wearing the glasses fun.

My week in Honolulu was filled with epiphanies and moments of tremendous gratitude. I was there to visit my dad, who had been admitted into a nursing facility over the Christmas Holiday, and to help my mom work through some of the decisions that need to be made.

About six years ago, my dad had a stroke that paralyzed his left side and made him wheel chair bound. Recently, he's been losing some of his strength and it's been harder and harder for my mother to take care of him by herself. Having my dad at home became really a safety issue for both my parents. So, now he's in a facility with around the clock support from a professional staff.

It's an awakening to see the body temple slowing down. Our physical bodies are our chosen vehicles that transport our souls around this third dimension experience. Everyday when I went see my dad, I saw people whose body temples were definitely slowing down. Witnessing that made me really realize that all of our bodies are on a gradual slow down. It is one of those inescapable things about being a participant in this temporal world. Our Life Force and Spirit are eternal, but our bodies are not. From this experience, my inner guidance posed the question, "Are you fully enjoying your body temple?"

Am I? I asked myself. Am I fully present in my body? Do I take every opportunity to dance and sing and move this wondrous vehicle around? Do I appreciate every pore that opens up and drizzles cooling perspiration on my skin? Do I let the sun bathe me and the rain replinish me? Am I savoring the flavors of food and drinks I put into my body? Do I take the time to smell all the amazing fragrances that surround me? Do I listen to soothing sounds or music that excites me? Do I allow my body to be intimate enough? Do I adorn my body with beautiful things? Some may say that this last question borders on vanity. But I want to draw the distinct line between vanity and appreciation. Vanity is when you are adorning yourself with lavish things to fill an emptiness or void in your being. Appreciation of the body, on the other hand, will lead you to embrace and be present with your soul's vehicle. So wear beautiful things and scent your body with wonderful smells and enjoy your temple.

Here's a suggestion--If you are ever presented an opportunity to stand naked in the rain, do it. It is so liberating and it will make your body feel alive. Don't, however, do it if it puts you in jeopardy of a possible public decency arrest. If you really want to do it, and you need a private place, let us know. You can come up to our land. Our nearest neighbor is about a mile away and we usually have quite a bit of rain.

Here's something I came across which may help you enjoy your time in this third dimension--

Apache Blessing:

May the sun
bring you new energy by day,
may the moon
restore you by night,
may the rain
wash away your worries,
may the breeze
blow new strength into your being.
May you walk
gently through the
world and know its
beauty all the days of your life.

And so it is.

Energy

We live in an infinitely abundant Universe and yet things seem to be appearing in finite amounts.

The other morning I was cooking breakfast and just as I was finishing Bodhi's egg the propane tank runs out of gas. Lucky for Kim and I coffee was already made. The water tank has been between low and empty with all the dry weather we've been having and I'm also keenly aware of when our 12 volt battery needs a break to let the solar panels recharge it.

After the gas sputtered out on us at breakfast, two thoughts ran through my mind. First, was that I should have had the spare tank filled. Second was the burning question of why, in an infinitely abundant Universe, do we experience things in finite amounts?

I posed the question to Kim and she had a good sense about it. She said that, by living the way we do, we are actually more conscious of our role as co-creators of the Universe's abundance. When the gas runs out, we know we have the energy and resources to get more gas. When the water runs dry, we know we have access to more of it from different sources. We have been able to tune in our senses to see abundance all around us, not just in places that we've looked before. Knowing that the water tank was running low, we began collecting the water from the melted ice in the cooler and using that to wash the dishes-- cold but effective.

We've become very conscious of how things flow into our lives and that has been a gift. It's very easy to get complacent and lack an appreciation for the bounty of the Universe if it flows in seemingly infinite amounts into our lives. In our modern world, water, electricity, and gas flow effortlessly into our homes and the only indicator of how much wonderfulness has come into our life is monthly paper statements we get in the mail. We should all be continually amazed at turning on a switch and seeing a dark place lighten up. We should all feel so blessed to stand under a warm shower and feel our bodies and spirits washed clean. We should all be so grateful to be able to cook a hot nourishing meal.

Karen added some clarity when I asked her the burning question about living in an abundant Universe and experiencing things in finite amounts. She said it's all energy. Energy takes on different forms that may be finite. The chair is energy, the floor is energy, the fan is energy, it's all energy, everything is energy.

The comedian Louis CK did a wonderfully entertaining and thought provoking interview on the Conan O'Brien Show a few months ago. It really talks about appreciating this amazing world we live in. If you haven't seen it, it's really worth a look on youtube. Here's the link--http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOzNrO54xsY

The energy is always flowing and that is infinite abundance that we all have access to. So the key is for us to have an appreciation for all this energy that surrounds us and to have a conscious awareness that we are the co-creators of how it appears in finite form in our lives.

Flowing

The water tank has been empty for the last couple of days with no rain in sight.

We've been able to get by with bringing up county water in seven gallon containers and spending the weekend at Karen's. Running low on water is not dire for us, it's more inconvenient than anything else. It's actually been pretty nice to dry out a bit on the land. A couple of days ago the trade winds returned and blew out the vog that has been hanging around, the sky was clear with a few wispy clouds.

It's getting pretty close to Kim and I needing to build another compost heap for our humanure. Jim suggested that we build it next to an avocado tree growing on the land. That way, even if we don't do anything with the compost we create, it'll slowly feed nutrients to the avocado tree for years. Good idea.

The saw dust toilets continue to serve us well. Bodhi sometimes asks us why we don't have a water toilet, but for him the system seems pretty normal. A few weeks back we ran out of saw dust and we knew that it would be a few days before we would be able to get to the mill to get more, so the substitute we used was grass from the lawn. I grabbed a five gallon bucket and a rake and gathered up as much cut grass as I could. The grass was a nice substitute. It had been cut a few days earlier so it was all dried up, but I gathered it in the morning so it was covered with dew to add some moisture to hold down smells. After doing our business, we would just grab a handful of grass and cover up our stuff. One night when Kim was sitting and doing her thing, a very familiar, "KOH-KI!" comes from inside of the five gallon toilet bucket. She gets up and grabs a flashlight to see what was going on. Sitting on top the mound of grass was a brown frog. The light caught his eyes and he dove deeper into the toilet. What we surmised is that the coqui frog must have been in the grass I raked up. No one was going to dig in and try to find the frog, and Kim couldn't muster it up to use the toilet with the little guy in there. Lucky for us, we have a bucket set up downstairs as well. We actually have more toilets at the cabin than we did at our cottage in Honolulu. I never heard the coqui in the toilet, but the next morning I took off the toilet seat on the bucket and lidded it up. It has since been dumped into the compost heap. Maybe he's living out his life in the heap or maybe our collected human waste was too much for him.

After almost five months out on the land, I'm still so grateful for the experiences that living off the grid has brought to me. It's little things like hearing a coqui in your toilet that make me think, "Wow! How cool is that?" If I had a regular flush toilet I wouldn't have such a fun story to tell. Although, I have heard stories of people coming home and finding a huge rat sitting on the toilet seat just hanging out. Now that would freak me out to no end.

During this past Christmas Season, Kim was on a rush to finish some DVDs she made. She would be working on our laptop for hours and our 12 volt battery would start to run out, so she would run off of the computer battery and that would run out. I ended up running an extension cord from our car battery to the laptop so we could charge it up. In the meantime our rechargeable lamps started to lose steam, so we worked in the dark with only a few flashlights. It's fun to think back to that night and the scramble to get our projects done.

So we're building a little bit of resilience out on the land and some of it has been a lot of fun. I think of the lesson of the flowing stream. The lesson goes that when the water flows and it hits an obstacle, it simply finds a way around or over it and continues on it's way. There is a good World War II story about a Tokyo University Professor after the bombing of Tokyo. His home was completely destroyed. As he walked through the ruins, he could pick out different areas of what used to be his house. There were charred remnants of the rare books and scholarly works he had collected over the years. Amidst all of this devastation, he reached down and picked up a handful of ash, "This," he said to his wife, "will make fine tooth powder."

The power to move on.

We'll make it through this drought and have fun doing it. Life flows and so do we.

Trust

Kim and I worked on refinishing Lois' teak table and chairs. We're hoping that this effort finally gets rid of the mold situation. It's been a two day process of bleaching the surface of the table and chairs, working some steel wool over the surfaces, and then getting some tung oil on the pieces. The project has been a real big lesson in following one's intuition.

Yesterday we finished the bleaching and steel wool scouring part and planned on letting the tables fully dry over night. Just before bed, Kim asks me if we should cover the table to keep any moisture off. I tell her I didn't think we needed to do it and that actually putting something like a towel over the pieces will actually get them wetter if the towels get wet from the evening moisture. We wake up this morning to find the table, chairs and extension sleeves wet with dew. A swing and a miss--strike one for me. Kim calls my cousin, a woodworker, and he tells her, "Yes you should have covered all of it."

We let all the pieces dry in the morning sun and did a fast work over with some steel wool. Luckily, the wood didn't swell up from the moisture. The next phase was putting on the tung oil. Simple enough, I thought. Kim asks me, "Do you think we should work on the sleeves first? Just in case we make a mistake, it's not a major part of the table."

"Nah! Let's just do the table first." I read the can of tung oil and it seemed pretty easy.
1. Apply a generous coat of tung oil.
2. In 5 to 10 minutes buff the surface with a lint free cloth.
How simple is that? The tung oil went on so smoothly leaving a shiny gloss on the surface of the table. I could feel the satisfaction of a real woodworker making dry, thirsty wood come to life. Our rookie mistake was that we were working out in the sun and the tung oil began to dry faster than the 5 to 10 minutes recommended on the can. So, when we started buffing the surface the tung oil gummed up on us, leaving little lumpy areas on certain spots. A swing and a miss--strike two. The lumps can only be seen when you look at the table in certain angles, but they are there. Had we listened to Kim's sense about things, we possibly would have made the mistakes on the sleeves and perfected our technique by the time we got the table. Now, the table looks pretty good with just a couple of small lumpy spots, while the sleeves and the chairs look really great.

Sometimes it is really difficult to trust that inner gut feeling you have about something. Kim is very intuitive and generally follows her inner voice, but with something we had both never done before and with items as precious as Lois' furniture, it was easy to disregard that inner inkling and search for an outside voice.

Lately, I've been wanting to hear the booming voice of God give me directions as to where to go and what to do. Or I've had a desire to sit with a psychic who can see a broader perspective of my life and have him tell me what to do. These are all symptoms of a lack of trust in my own inner voice. I'm looking for authority outside myself. The only way an individual can have true authentic action in his life is by trusting his own guidance system and acting from that place. Everything else is just reacting to outside stimuli.

Today, before we started working on the furniture, Kim and I had a re-birthing session. We are both trained practitioners in this form of breath work therapy. Basically, it is using the breath to release any area of your life that needs to be surrendered. I did the session on Kim with the intent on releasing fear and worry and gaining clarity. Boy did she gain clarity. While in the session, she had a very clear vision of what we need to do with the land. It washed over her, along with a feeling of peace and serenity. She came out of the meditation with a very calm but energized look on her face. It was very exciting to see.

So how do you trust that still inner voice within? It's a continual process of surrender, surrender, surrender.

Coming Home

Kim and I spent some time walking our land yesterday. It takes us about ten minutes to walk from Jim's cabin to our house site. The trail has gotten a little grown over in the two months since we last visited. Seeing our land is so inspiring. As we looked out from where our house will be, we began to visualize ourselves living there. Kim could see herself coming out onto our deck with a cup of coffee, seeing the tall Norfolk Pines that border our property and the majestic ‘Ohia that surround us. I could see Bodhi running around in a future lawn area with some of his friends. Hawks screeched over head, the breezes blew gently, and the sun shone bright.

Being out on our land was a very soothing balm for us. It had been quite a few days since we had been up at the cabin in general. Most of the Holidays were spent away. Kim actually joked with me that after spending six days on O‘ahu, the Christmas weekend at Karen's in Hilo and the New Year's weekend at Jen and Renato's in Sea View, her toe nails were actually clean. Some of the ruggedness washed away as we got used to hot showers, refrigeration, and lights that go on when you flick a switch on the wall.

Sea View in Kalapana is like la la land. There are quiet streets with friendly children bicycling freely around the neighborhood. Neighbors come around to say "hi" as they walk the streets with cups of espresso steaming in the morning chill. There is a definite cool, artsy, hippie vibe there that we like. At certain points during the weekend Kim and I did silent calculations in our heads to see if we could sell our acreage in Kurtistown and buy a small plot in Sea View where electricity flows into the homes and the streets are paved.

We drove away from the weekend questioning who we are and what we are doing with ourselves. It was going back to understanding how we define ourselves. Would Sea View be a good fit for us? What we realized was that part of the appeal for Sea View is that it is an established and defined community that we could simply move into and have a life. This is in contrast to our raw acreage that sits like a block of clay waiting to be crafted into something wonderful. There have been times recently that Kim and I have just felt so overwhelmed with this perceived mountain that stands before us waiting to be traversed.

Sitting on our land the other day helped to energize and recommit us to our Journey. For all of its charm and beauty, Sea View, was the seductive Sirens beckoning us to stay a while.

The potential of what we can do with our acreage is what keeps us rooted to where we are. Imagine with me a beautiful green ‘ohia forest with organic farming, chickens and goats, housing units for WOOFERS (Workers on Organic Farms), a meditation center, and room for Bodhi to run free. It's all there for us. The question is how committed can Kim and I be to defining our own lives.

Carl Jung once wrote, "Your vision will become clear when you can look into your heart. Who looks outside dreams; who looks inside awakes." When we look into our hearts and allay all fear we know we need to be out on the land.

Over the Holidays, we got to see "Polar Express" on video at Karen's. At the tail end of the movie the train conductor had this message for the young protagonist, "One thing about trains: It doesn't matter where they're going. What matters is deciding to get on."

All Aboard! The 2010 Express is heading out and life is happening on it! Dr. Howard Thurman has this helpful advice, "Don't worry about what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

Blessings and Aliveness for 2010.