Into the Deep End. Joyfully.

Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Friday gratefuls: Kabbalah Experience. Jamie. Hawai’i. Its splendid isolation. The cool Trade Wind. My heart, opening. Joy. Joy. Joy. Down in my heart to stay. Kate, always Kate. Murdoch curled up on the couch. Watching Pacific with Joe, Seoah, Mary last night. Us. Family. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Kep. Rigel. Emily. The IRA and its gift of freedom. (no, not the Irish Republican Army. But…)

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Cattle Egret sinuously hunting for insects. Not far from the Dinosaurs. The reception of my poem, Messianic Times.

On the Float

Oh, fooey. (You might also insert a saltier F word here.) Walked yesterday morning. Vigorously. I’d decided to take breakfast at the Wilbur and Orville Cafe. And, I was hungry. About 30 minutes by foot from Ozinuka Village. Got within five minutes of the cafe and my left hip, back, and quad began complaining, using the only language they have: pain. Oh, boy.

Close enough to get breakfast though. So I did. Another episode of guess those words spoken through a mask, behind a plastic shield, with background noise. Once again, Sure. OK. Not really knowing what I had ordered.

Ate breakfast on the veranda overlooking the Pearl with open Ocean also in view. Enjoyed the Mynah birds who bathed in the sprinklers, walked downslope a bit to a puddle for a quick dip and shake, then up to a railing. Repeat. Made me smile.

Then. 30 minutes back home at a brisk walk. Or, an hour’s stroll punctuated by sitting on concrete benches, stopping to gaze at the Pearl. Discovered the polarized lenses of my new Oakley sunglasses-yeah, dude. Cool-allowed me to see through the glare into the water. Lots of fish, brightly colored. If it were Minnesota, I’d say they escaped from somebody’s home aquarium.

A few namastes to this tree. That one. To the far off Mountains, covered in Clouds. Katabatic cooling as the Trades climbed up from Sea level. Trying to remember the name of that Korean Mountain God. Namaste to the Pearl. It sent back a moist hello. I see you. To the Grass.

These individuals, this Monkey Pod Tree, that Cook Pine, this particular Grass, the Water flowing by right now in the Pearl. Realized the lumping effect of species. It hides the ash-like Tree right here, the one that bends over the rip-rap and reaches out to the air above the Pearl. Or that Royal Palm which leans a bit, it’s bulbous base inflated a bit higher than the others. The Cattle Egret, no not all of them, just this one. Intent. On the hunt right here in front of me as I sit on Joe and Seoah’s veranda.

Dogs, Humans, Elk, Iris, Nematodes. No. This dog. Murdoch. Kepler. Rigel. Gertie. That Elk, the one lying in our backyard, full of succulent Dandelions, each one unique. His journey taken only by him. Not that other Buck who came later. And neither of them the one who followed them both.

Experiencing the life of these individuals. We intersect, for a moment, adding to the uniqueness of our own pilgrimage, one to the other. That Grass had never met me before. This yellow fish. That scrambling monster crab. Hey, guy! Wassup?

Slow movement back toward Ozinuka town. Each step offering an exquisite, sharp prod. Hey! Don’t forget. I should be resting. Yeah, yeah. We’re not there yet.

Not exercising any more until I get back to Colorado, talk to my doc, a trainer, maybe the Pilates folks. Have to keep moving, but pain’s a bitch. Need a path.

Hebrew class this morning. Mussar yesterday afternoon. Simcha. Joy. Ayin. A Hebrew letter. A Hebrew word of eye. Evocative of both sorrow and joy. Welded together, those two. Know one, know the other.

I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain
I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I’d see you again.  James Taylor

Oh. That loss. Kate. God, I loved her. Love her. Carry her with me. Cry, dance. A part of me cracked open yesterday, letting new light into my soul. I could dance again. Smile. Maybe whirl. Reminded of the poem Easter Exulte by James Broughton that Paul Strickland shared.

An excerpt:

Deepen your roots.

Extend your branches.

Trust deep water

and head for the open,

even if your vision

shipwrecks you.

I’m trusting deep Water, headed for open Ocean even if it shipwrecks me. Want to come along?

This entry was posted in Family, Feelings, Hawai'i, Judaism, Poetry, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Third Phase, Travel. Bookmark the permalink.

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