I Have Arrived in a Tropical Paradise

Approaching Maui after traveling thousands of miles over blue, blue, blue, blue, (i.e. lots of water) I started feeling a lush feeling in my lower tummy and was glad that I was finally in Hawaii. I stayed in Maui for only about an hour and a half before embarking on my transition flight to the Big Island. Alo-HA. First thing I saw coming in, aside from the malachite colored water, was an expansive bed of black lava rock. This was where the plane landed. There were some palm trees scattered along a shore to the distant left, but for the most part, plant matter was sparse on this area of the island. My new co-worker Pam picked me up at the airport and drove me about forty miles to the Dragonfly Ranch, the place where I am doing my volunteer work. There are plants here I have never seen before, growing on the side of the road like flourishing gardens. Many wild flowers and huge leaves, sometimes dappled with dew from the sporadic rainfall. Everywhere. The air was a pleasing temperature -- it hugged my skin, my whole body and infused my lungs. I guess all air does this but in Santa Cruz you can't feel it as much. I feel the energy of this place more pervasively each day. But generally, I feel it coming from below me. Its power is not only in all the plants and trees and in the views, but a great deal of it is coming from within the earth. That's why there's all these volcanoes here! The energy here is so conducive to molten hot explosions! Or the other way around. Whatever. I know I am alienating a few of you not-so-oriented-towards-that-hippie-kind-of-way-of-experiencing-things but anyway. I arrived at the Drangonfly Ranch and was struck how in the jungle this place really is . . . beautiful. Lusciously overgrown and unkempt. Like my hair. It’s also rustic. If you see the pictures of it at dragonflyranch.com, you'll see a clean, well maintained place. Well, it turns out those pictures were taken about thirty years ago and the place is a bit more run down now. There is organized clutter everywhere you look. Like, if you look at two or three square feet, you will see a space complete unto itself. But there is an overabundance of complete unto itself places that there is little room left for actual empty mind space. Like, think of being so surrounded by works of art that you are just kind of confronted with SOMETHING everywhere you turn. It's reminds me a little bit of living in the Felix Kulpa art gallery. This woman (Barbara, who run the place) apparently does not like to get rid of anything. And some of it smells. She has all kinds of books, from Hawaii travel guides, to those on investing your values into your own business, to all things relating to the New Age, as well as the Koran and the Holy Bible.
Yesterday, after a hard day's work cleaning rooms, doing laundry, tidying the kitchen repeatedly, and vacuuming termite poop, I went snorkeling in the most pristine water I have ever glided my body through. It was like swimming through an aquarium. After I got past the shallow area were there was only sand and rocks, I came upon some objects on the seafloor that looked like brains. I soon realized that this was CORAL! I swam a little bit further with my rubber flippers and soon came upon a few yellow fish. The only place I have seen these have been confined to small tanks with plastic trees and faux flora. The further out I swam, the more life I came across: Bluefin Jack, Saddle Wrasse, Trumpet Fish, Hawaiian White Spotted Fish, Yellow Tang, Sea Urchins, and a Sea Turtle. I kept swimming, further and further, until I reached a steep slope. All of a sudden, the sea floor reached into the shadowy depths of the ocean and transformed into an underwater valley. I became hyperaware of the darth vader like sound of my breath moving in and out of my snorkel. Then I got motion sick and had to turn back.
That night I went to a Buddhist meditation circle with some friendly Hawaiian locals who were truly consumed by the Aloha spirit. We chanted for about an hour, an intonation that had a vibration meant to synchronize one with their own Buddha nature. How did I feel after that, you may be wondering? So tired. We drove home and I went to bed. I still have jet lag. Then I had a dream about swimming with a gigantic manta ray.
It seems appropriate to conclude this letter now by saying that you are all in my thoughts . . . glimpses of faces with joyous grins, the recollection of my own belly laughter, evenings by candlelight with a cup of tea being introspective among close friends, comfortable in silence . . .
Much love,
-Kaela