8:24 PM, February 23rd, Anahola Bay, Da Fish Shack
There are three entries here. This is because the ever vigilant Hyatt server cut me out at exactly 4:34PM yesterday. I reverted to an older habit, travel journal entries in Word that I would then paste into my blog when I returned from a trip. That’s where the ones below were made.
Kate and I ate our last supper together here at a strange Japanese restaurant in Hanumalu. The front was set up for a group event. There were long tables with white table cloths and no menus, no wait person, no bartender. When the bartender arrived, Kate asked about the sushi bar. Oh, right this way. In the way back there was a sushi bar, a traditional Japanese style dining set up with tables low to the floor, then a raised platform with tables and chairs (where Kate and I chose to sit). Later, I discovered another set of rooms in another area. These had the traditional sliding doors with rice paper and again, low tables. To this occidental mind it was difficult to follow the organization, but it made perfect sense to everybody else.
It was sad to see Kate go. She felt two weeks was as long as she could be gone. We hugged and kissed, then she took off with her carry-ons and checked baggage. I made my way back here in the dark.
Da Fish Shack, glory be, has an excellent wireless router, actually a superior connection to the one I got for my $15.00 a day at the Hyatt. To add insult to injury, when I first opened my browser here, the #$%!@ Hyatt website kept coming up and wouldn’t let me load anything.
The no light pollution sky sings over the Pacific here in Anahola Bay. The ocean comes, comes, comes but does not quite arrive. It comes and recedes, but it leaves crushed sand, shells and the certainty it will return.
You will hear from me later. Aloha.
8:05 AM February 23rd, 2008
Watched the resort wake up again this morning. A woman lifted up a large green door near one of the pools and crawled inside. Two men with stone working materials in a small motorized garden cart got stuck negotiating a narrow turn and skidded along the walk rail. A few bleary eyed tourists just off the plane wandered the grounds, trying to get oriented, both to time and place.
Meditated. I have much to learn about how Taoists meditate. It is a forgetting of the surroundings, a gradual extinguishing of sensory input. I find this more difficult than the type of centering meditation I have used in the past, but I suspect that’s because I don’t understand the methods well at all. That will come in the next course I’m taking from my teacher.
In reading Alan Watts the other morning I had a familiar, and welcome, feeling. As I read, my body grew quiet and the world around faded out, my senses began to sink in toward the mid-point of my chest. This is the feeling I get when some new knowledge or perspective has begun to “sink in.”
Taoism feels right, feels true. Something I’ve sought for years, maybe my whole life. A lot more to learn, but my body has already told me a long search has come to an end.
As they say in another tradition, hallelujah.
We check out here this morning. This afternoon at 1pm we have our tour of the Allerton Gardens. At 3 I can check in to Da Fish Shack. Kate’s plane doesn’t leave until 8 or so tonight, so we might head over to Hanalei for the Pinetrees Surf Contest.
Travel Journey: Kauai, 6:47 PM, February, 22, 2008
The internet service here went down one week after I purchased it, about 2 hours ago. This entry is in Word, which I will paste into the blog the next time I find a computer friendly environment.
Whales spouted, breached and slapped their flukes in the bay. Put together whales, volcanoes, sunny warm days, the aloha spirit of the native Hawai’ians and a botanical diversity that gladdens the eye and the heart, then you have a recipe for an unusual time.
These winter months bring the whales to breed and give birth. The volcanoes are ever present, from the very much alive Kilauea and Mauna Loa on the Big Island, to the long extinct like the ancient shield volcano that created Kauai. On the windward side of all the islands there can be rain, but sun shine is only a few minutes away by car.
Though there is the hostile sovereignty movement, in general the Hawai’ians whom I’ve encountered seem genuine and warm. Much like, in fact, the way many people see Minnesotans.
Here ginger, o’hia, antherium, plumeria, gardenia, coconut and royal palms, ferns and more ferns, philodendron, ti, acacia (koa), banyan, cactuses, orchids, and bromeliads all thrive in the soil made from eroded lava and deteriorated plant matter.
All this mixes together into an ineffable tonic, one that brings an involuntary smile, even a giggle to your soul.
I’ve been many places, but for sheer refreshment and relaxation, Hawai’i beats them all.
