Here in Honaunau: Kei-ei and KCOF 102.5

It seems I have landed on the most beautiful area of the island. Everyday, I explore something completely unique, special, and powerful. Yesterday, it was Ke-ei (pronounced Kay-ay), which is near the water several miles down the
road. It's a little like Westcliff in Santa Cruz, in that it is miles of cliff side you can walk the length of, in serenity. However, it’s beach is only a small stretch of white sand, and the rest is lava rock. When I first saw and walked on lava rock, I found it very, how should I say. . . unaccomodating? The sun heats it up during the day (it's jet black), and burns all bare feet that attempt
to tread across it. It does not give under your body weight in any way, therefore you would NOT want to fall on your face on it, because it's coarseand super solid. You would look pretty bad. However, my opinion and experience of it has changed since I have started traveling to Ke-ei everyday to see the sunset. I now run across it practically, challenging
myself to best coordinate my footing, my reflexes. Around every turn, there is something to see. The rock closest to the water takes the form of angular blocks that have been beaten smooth by the waves and tides. It is amazing. There are areas that look they were constructed by giant human hands, strategically, for human enjoyment. For example, there is a natural bridge that separates two holes from one another, like the center of a figure "8," the water rising and falling on either side of it (the bridge is not attached to the earth -- that is how water can reach the second hole) and you can walk in between them. There are naturally constructed beginner and intermediate courses. I alternate between both of them. You can either walk or jump from flat block to flat block, or you can test yourself and use your toes to jump through the more irregularly shaped,
sloped, and sometimes jagged rocks. One thing I like best about the place is that it is usually desolate. Pam and I are often among the only ones there (except on Saturdays and Sundays, when the luaus are held). As I see the sky change
color and shift shadow during the sun's set, I sometimes sing to myself as loud as I can (from my belly, from deep inside), not caring how far I project my voice. I stand there as receptive as if I were receiving a healing or clearing, open, knowing that I need not focus on anything except quieting my mind enough that I can feel the power of what is before and all around me. And sure enough, there is always an influx of something that just seems to make my cells reverberate with exhilaration.
The other day, I snorkeled in the water at the white sand beach, in the waves! I came upon three or four sea turtles, moving with the current. As the waves broke over my head (not directly, I was submerged somewhat), I was
surrounded by an explosion of bubbles, gliding up the width of my body, past my ears, turning into a thin froth at the surface of the water. At one point I was pushed onto some slimy rocks and carried along them pretty rudely for eight or nine feet before I found my way back into the water with a couple mild scrapes. When I finally came out I had a big smile on my face.
I have begun to read my poetry (slam poetry) over the air at the local radio station. I am getting together some poets from around the area to come to the Songwriter’s Showcase on Sunday’s and have them interspersed between the musician's sets. The station is KCOF, 102.5, in Honaunau. I did it last Sunday when there were about twenty, maybe twenty five people at the station. I was so grateful to have been introduced to this subculture of artists, and am prepared to be a part of it.
When the last set of the night was over, performed by a most talented young guy close to my age, I gave him my thanks and appreciation. I told him of my idea for a show and he said that his girlfriend (who had been playing the djembe beside him and sang back-up during the set) was an amazing writer. I went and told her of my purpose and she asked me, "if I wouldn't mind," to read some of my own poetry to her. I recited "Pomegranate Heart," which I wrote less than a couple years ago. When I was done, I looked at her and found that her boyfriend had come up from behind her and had his arms wrapped around her, with his head resting on one of her shoulders. Both of them had been giving me their full attention, and were slowly rocking side to side with tears in their eyes. She told me she would love to be a part of my idea, and gave me her number and e-mail. She also said that she had friends that she is sure would be interested. So it seems I am off to a good start. By the way, here is the poem entitled “Pomegranate Heart”:

My heart is a pomegranate.
Layers and layers hold together seeds
Which promise to bear fruit.
Peel the white membranes
From the beads of my abundance
And you will only find more.

Only time will tell
When I am ready to fall to the ground,
Prostrate before your feet,
Demonstrating to you the depth of my desire
To experience your love.

I wait and anticipate
The time that I may be accepted and assimilated
Into the cells of your essence,
So I may share with you my flesh and blood
Of water and sun.

But the time is not yet ripe
For my sweetness to be relinquished.
For now, it is enough for me
To look into your eyes
And see the signs
Of new directions.

Getting into the Hawaiian Spirit

Hawaii. I was told before I came that the Big Island was being developed with corporate interest in mind, but I did not imagine that Western values and practices would be so instilled in the local/Hawaiian people: namely, asshole-ness. Also, a certain kind of mindset prevails: . . . hostile anger, boredom, resignation. Alcoholism catalyzes the downward spiral of a people that feel painfully disconnected from their cultural essence. I thought that there would be a resistance movement here that would take the form of people who retained the "old ways," without scratches on their shoulders . . . a people untouched, who observe what is happening (Americanization), but who do not internalize it. Perhaps there is, but for the most part, the myth of the exotic, erotic Hawaiian has been dispelled from my mind. I knew that the portrayals of native Hawaiians in their leis and hoola skirts donned by tourist companies and travel agencies were a bit phony, but I thought they were imitations of something still in existence: a rich and flourishing culture. But that culture has for the most part been decimated, and from what I can tell, most people are just struggling, grudgingly, to survive. It's very expensive to live here. Property values are going up, and people are actually being displaced in the local government's attempt to bring more affluent gringos into town.
Okay, I’m not ready to write a thesis, so I will tell you about the horses two that live on the other side of the belly high lava stone wall that lines the farms property. Most of the day they spend grazing on an overabundance of succulent vegetation. In the afternoon, I find them standing side by side next to one another, head to tail, enjoying one another's company. I observed them watching me as I drank water meditatively in the outdoor kitchen. I decided to climb over the stone wall and approach them, but I was pretty timid about it. I didn't know if these horses had a freaky childhood or what, if they would try to whack me on the side of my head with their robust jaws, or if they would let me pet them without resistance. So for a moment, I just stood before them and bowed my head a bit. The horse with its head facing me nudged the one with it's butt towards me, and it turned around so they were both looking at me curiously. The younger looking one took a step forward as I raised my hand to touch its head. It landed on its crown and I could tell immediately that this horse was in need of attention, of touch. I caressed its jaw and smoothed my palm underneath its neck, as its eyelids became heavy with satisfaction. I didn't want to make the other horse jealous so I ran my fingers through its mane, which was a lot like healthy human hair. As I did that, the other one reached its head underneath the arc of its companions neck and touched my arm with the tip of its mouth, so we were all in physical contact. These creatures are massive and muscular, and barely utilize their own strength (they are very leisurely). I now visit them whenever I can. Just yesterday, as I stood flossing my teeth near their hang out spot, they took time off from their noshing to trot over towards me , with wide bright eyes and horse smiles on their faces. I have learned how to speak to them. Besides communing in silence, they like to be whispered to (they are alarmed by normal voice projection).
There are other creatures that live on the farm. At night, toads hop out from the bases of the banana trees and live their nocturnal life. I don't worry about stepping on them because their reflexes are so fast, they just jump out of the way. There's also this crazy blue and yellow macaw parrot, O’lili, that chews holes near the edges of the plastic roof of my cabin and squawks "Stop it!" and "How are you? How are you? *Squawk!* How are you?" When it gets on my nerves and I can't stand it anymore, I leave the farm for the day. It's a bit rambunctious. For example, it tried to tip over a bucket on one of the dog’s heads the other day while it was sniffing under the table that the parrot was standing on. Toi, who was standing nearby, just laughed.
At the moment, I work with a few middle aged fellows and I like them because they’re educated (except for the one guy Dan who recently cut off his index finger while he was sawing styrofoam), friendly, appreciative, happy to be living the simple life. And they always thank me for my work. Pretty soon Dave is going to take me for a ride on the back of his motorcycle.
It was a great morning when I went to work for Sun Bear Produce six miles down the road, situated higher up on the mountain -- a place that receives more rainfall and is about twice as big. For four hours in the morning, I harvested baby lettuce among mostly young workers against a backdrop of paradise. All of the kids (between the ages of 22 and 60, actually) were happy to be there, and totally WILLING to work. Most of them smiled whenever I looked at them, glowed with a satisfaction derived from living a balanced life. They were interested in who I was, and each was a "character." Harvy (the farm manager) as far as I can tell, is a person of integrity. He hires people based on personality and how in need they are of a job. And he pays them well ($11/hour). He doesn't have a problem talking to you like a boss -- like telling you what you need to improve on (the first batch of lettuce I picked was kind of dirty) and giving orders on what needs to be done. All in all, he seems to be a good balance between authority figure and sincere friend, and it shows in the quality of work that is performed on the farm. It's a beautiful, well maintained place. I think I'll be going there about a once every week or two, hopefully more in the near future.
Now, the sunsets: Each one is different. Near the City of Refuge, Pam and I sat on the coarse lava rock and watched as the sun transformed from a brilliant yellow sun to a subtle yet pervasive pinkish red. Its light was soft enough that you could stare straight at it without damaging your eyes. There were a few strips of clouds in the foreground, standing before its awesome luminescence. Their position allowed for a most spectacular illusion: as the sun sunk behind one of them, a semi circle was created in the sky that slowly shrunk into "oblivion" behind the cloud. The whole sun appeared once again before disappearing behind yet another cloud form. Finally, it emerged from beneath the last cloud, slowly, steadily, gently, as though the sky were giving birth. It emerged without a sound, and all onlookers were dazzled by the spectacle. The water reflected is light, creating what looked like a pathway from me to the horizion were the sun was situated. Something inside of me opened up -- my lungs parted themselves like two curtains, my heart became more prominent, my chest expanded into what felt like a wide inner grin. There was something about seeing the sun do this. I mean, throughout the day, it will not let you look at it without blinding you. It's like you constantly have to bow your head to it, respect it, like a high and mighty emperor that remains seated above you. But now I was eye to eye with it, and I did not need to cower. There was no fear of getting burnt. I was at its level, and it was energizing me without overwhelming my mortal senses. As it finally disappeared below the horizon, the dogs on the beach started barking and Pam and I clapped our hands.
Yes, Hawaii. The "spirit" is still here. But many people are becoming too busy to stop and pay attention. That is why I came out here. To STOP. I am still chasing my tail a bit, haven't fully unwound, but I am slowing down.

Building "Mana" and Experiencing "Aloha"

I moved across the street to the one acre farm that has walkways lined with banana trees, and rows of lettuce, spinach, collard greens, chard, kale, cilantro, basil and parsley – Evie’s Farm. The Dragonfly simply did not work out. Without going into detail, suffice it to say that Barbara is yet another “imposter,” big time, and I felt I was being exploited. Now, I work three hours a day, five days a weeks, from 6:00 to 9:00 in the morning (instead of the 30+/week that I was previously doing). Then I get the rest of the day off. I also get to eat all of the fresh produce that is grown on the farm that I want (four kinds of bananas – finger bananas, apple bananas, ice cream bananas and blue field) and have a small cabin room with three open but screened windows. There is no electricity except for a lone lightbulb in the kitchen, so at night, my windowsill is lined with candles.
I just read a book on Hawaiian cultural and Kahuna values and learned a new concept: "mana." It is the power that comes from one's personal excellence. For example, in contrast to Western work ethics, in which an employee is motivated by the desire to make money, in traditional Hawaiian culture, one strives for excellence in order to attain sincere personal admiration from their fellow employees and employer. Mana. It resonates with me. This morning, I weeded an entire row of kale (60 feet or so), to prepare it for the next plantation. It took me three and a half hours, and I worked non-stop (except for a starfruit break), as hard as I could (taking time to stretch). I'm not making money, but this farm is now my home, the people I worked with companions sharing this land, and I want to both show my appreciation and feel that I deserve to be here. I felt so accomplished when Toi (the farm manager) looked at my work with amazement and told me I was "the bomb." I have now committed to working hard each and every day . . . (instead of dragging my feet, which I tend to do at places I don't want to be). Okay, maybe I'm just saying this because I HAVE money at the moment, but sincere admiration feels so much more substantial to me than a stamped check. For me, it brings happiness, and a definite feeling of harmony -- something you can actually feel. I value exchanging these things more than I do green printed paper over a counter.
Yesterday afternoon (approaching evening) I took a walk up the road and was struck at one particular point by a unique sunset (they are different in quality over here -- maybe because there is less pollution over the wide expanse of the Pacific ocean). I took a deep breathe in order to let myself experience awe to the fullest extent, and then turned around to see a local guy sitting on a ledge above me across the road. "Beautiful, sunset, huh?" he said. After crossing the road to exchange words with him for a few minutes, he walked down the slope to meet me, took my hand, and touched the side of his face to mine. That is aloha. ("Alo" means "face," and "ha," to breathe. Literally, to breathe on the face.) We walked back down the road together (I decided I wanted to go to Two Step, by the City of Refuge) and he told me he would lend me a bike to use (EXACTLY what I need!) Today, I ran into him again. He offered me a sip of his Capri Sun but I said "No thanks, I need protein." So he went to his house (which his family has lived on and shared for three generations), and brought me back down a sandwich, an apple, a glass of water, and a frozen fillet of Ahi fish that he said would defrost by the day's end!!! He wasn't trying to flirt with me (I don't think) -- he was sharing aloha (For those of you fearing for my safety or sanity . . .what can I say? I don't want to live in fear).
(By the way, I just opened up my wallet and out came a fortune from Panda Express that I saved a while ago. It says: "Health and happiness are in your destiny." I think my mom gave that to me).