Daydream Believer

I fear the humidity has rendered myself melancholy this muggy evening. The only creature on island presently with energy still intact is the cat on my roof right now chasing a rat. Everyone else is stuptified into submission to this heatwave. Has anybody seen where the tradewinds went?

All this lethargic quiet time has given me ample ammunition to ponder. Yes, I have spent all afternoon cowering in my jungle hut not just cowering though but daydreaming. Daydreaming about life without grad school... 10 more weeks of this crazy stress which I have come to know so well. Only 10 more weeks of feeling guilty if I go out for 2 nights in a row & slack on my studies... Only 10 more weeks of carting books to the beach to study (not that I'm complaining too much about this endeavor as at the very least I am getting out of my shack on the rare occasion that I am not working). Only 10 more weeks of looking at men as only momentary distractions (interpret that however you want as I still am myself).

What is on the other side of the rainbow for me? The underside of the rainbow? A mirrored image? A parallel universe? Do I pick up where I left off & continue to daydream about Antarctica? Do I head back to Reflections Camp in Kabak Valley & just chill out on the Turkish Mediterranean for a bit? Do I just say 'fuck it' and go to India & have my mind blown? I'm so used to not having to think about what to do because it has been laid out for me & I've just been going for it. I'll need to create another challenge for myself- won't I? This is how I roll- isn't it?

The road to everywhere. This is what I know. I remember. I repeat. I always return to Maui, pick up where left off, settle into another comfort zone... for a while. Then the itch. Why am I all of the sudden thinking about Okanawa? About Finland? About Talkeetna? What do these have in common? They are all island-like. They are all remote. They all have a healthy diet of fish. They are all so far away from Maui. Crazy thoughts. Daydreams are funny like this. I tend to act on daydreams.

Daydreams turn to Nightdreams- no wonder I can't sleep more than 6 hours a night. Is it all the avocados I've been eating these past 5 weeks? What is this piece of paper going to do for me? Where is this piece of coveted paper going to take me next? I want it all. I want intellectual stimulation, I want esoteric stimulation, I want physical stimulation, I want emotional stimulation, I want scientific stimulation, I want artistic stimulation. Nothing to daydream about here- I already live this. I'm in fact overstimulated I believe. So much that I daydream about more hours in the day to accomplish all this. Somebody stop this train. Where is the pause button? My pause button since my return to Maui has been Buffy the Vampire Slayer- lol thanks Katie...

The Buffster, she kicks some serious vampire ass. Which has, of course, given me the idea of portraying Joan of Arc this Halloween. Or Edina of the Absolutely Fabulous fame. Of course I would need a Patsy... All this, these momentary daydreams though, they are just distractions. I said to a friend last week something to the effect of, "I'm living for the future so I can be in the present." I laughed it off immediately & decided that was an appropriate facebook status update but there was a certain element of truth that didn't sit easy within myself. It seems I am but existing for that day, sometime mid-December, when it is over. This chapter that has created so much desire, so much wonderlust, so much critical, cognitive analysis this is grad school at it's most coveted (for me) experience. Yes, that is my future. That is my date when the present begins. It is strange. I cannot become sidetracked as I have come too far. It's not difficult by any means, this dedication, and it has left an imprint deep within myself. A sense of pride & prejudice at the same time: it look some great moments in time, and it created some great moments in time- what doesn't. Nothing has come easy for me. Nothing has ever been difficult for me. Another friend & I came up with another, what some might consider fairly obnoxious saying, "I don't manifest, I do." We were in Charley's when we thought up of that one. I believe we were inebriated. We laughed it off.

So what if I really am a Daydream Believer? I suppose I will be just as busy post-grad as I have been. As I have always been because that's how I roll. Anyone care to have a go at it with me? We shall see. Everything is as it should be after all. Yea, I feel better already. Perhaps that's not the right wording though. Doubting words- and that is exactly why I am a Daydream Believer- no words need be exchanged.

the season of Holly

Sunday morning & coffee served in bed. How incredible it is that I  look out my window from the luxurious comfort of my incredibly sensous red silk sheets (!!!) & have an uninterrupted view of a wall of green sheer mass. The dichotomy of color saturation: the red silk curtains from India, against the backdrop of various exotics- all of which I might add are fairly invasive to Hawaii's flora... Ah, spell broken- slightly.

It's the aromas emitted from outside that waft in. It wraps itself around my body- fighting for space in between the silk sheets, as well as other contenders. But enough of that... that was last week's blogbits! The sweet grasses, the night-blooming jasmine (what lucky girl would NOT plant night-blooming jasmine outside her bedroom... all the better to intoxicate any man and render them senseless- kinda like the one-two punch). Again I find myself off track! So to proceed quickly & on track it's a smelly wonderland in this atmosphere. The addition of and Italian espresso roast... Sunday morning sanctuary.

Maui life continues to honor myself w/blessings of friendships and amazing events- this week no different. It's complicated at this point because I just want to cut loose but this last semester in grad school seems painful & I need to stay focused. I have been completely satiated w/life the past 20 months just working like mad, taking classes, running, going to yoga & little else. Certainly no time for manly distractions on a scale more serious than catching my eye & little else. There is a certain comfort to know I want no intense connections while I'm in grad school BUT as this is my last semester...

I was Skyping w/Australia yesterday, while studying, and I feel compelled to honor another connection. Last entry I commented on influential men in my life but there is one more element who has shared in my molding of sorts. Yes, the very Wild Thing. How can I not look back at my Santa Cruz years and just smile so wide. DP was so different than any chick I knew there. She's this wild Tasmanian that taught me to hang out on the porch in the mornings w/coffee, cigs (her) &  spliffs while rubbing papaya peels over our faces to soak in the enzymes while listening to Charlie Parker & company.

It was those formative years of mine that I used to look at her and just think, "wow, this chick really tells it like it is." What I have found out throughout the years that she represents almost a certain breed of females down under- she's what I would call the Alpha Female of the southern hemisphere. I say this because anywhere I've traveled throughout the world since meeting her, and I do mean some of the most remote places where females usually don't travel alone- well, other chicks I've met up & traveled with have been Aussies. Just true grit them. What she, probably unknowingly, taught me was to never compromise yourself, or your principles more so- for anybody- period. If people can't accept you for who you are, you can't will them to do so. If a man doesn't like you the way you want them to, they never will so just move on. She taught me to honor myself to trust my instincts- as others have but coming from a female role model, well this plays itself out differently.

Talking to her yesterday was like we were transported back to Santa Cruz, back to her little shack on 34th Ave, or back to the Boz's in the Jewel Box on the edge of the sea cliffs at Capitola-by-the-sea. It was a fantastic journey back through time. It made me realize my journey, my timeline is what I make it. I realize I have turned her stories that I so enthusiastically gripped onto every word back then, have turned into my stories. I have created my own stories. I now realize that a she played a crucial role in my becoming an anthropologist/archaeologist. My amazement in humanity & the legacy of cultures stemmed from many of our conversations- many of which consisted of copious amounts of red wine & other adult party favors... teeheehee! LOVE YOU GIRL. Also DP perhaps you want to think about investing some $ in Maui w/me & we can purchase some property... I've been thinking I want something permanent here to come back to while I continue to travel around the globe & work.  Good place for you to set up the family & do your thing...

Coffee cup now empty, the rain has abated to a background humming, the forest canopy still holding up the cloudy sky, and the red silk sheets still envelops me, it's time to concentrate on the day at hand: get up, study- that's it... It's no wonder I lazily lay in bed dreaming about the past and the future as present day seems less thrilling than said timeline! No complaints as, let's see, Friday night pau hana spent in the charming Wailuku town w/friends drinking red wine at Marc Aurel Cafe & listening to Kanekoa before heading out to the Iao Theatre for a showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show.

 Last night was the Maui County Fair- complete w/regrettable amounts of subpar carnival food- carmel apple excepted! I will say that the subpar food came just in time though as we polished off the bottle (red wine, of course) a little too quickly back in Haiku before journeying into town while catching one last episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I thought I might have one of those 'moments' but ended up keeping it together, lol! We did take a ride on the Ferris Wheel.

 I love the view of the island from Ferris Wheels. The lights of the Fair set against a backdrop of darkness- with a full moon glowing on the eastern horizon slowly making its way towards us. It was incredibly beautiful.  I love the fair. It represents a time of year when Maui is at it's most beautiful. There are subtle changes in the weather that are apparent to the 'kama`aina' or children of the land. It is most special. The winds of summer die down a bit, the first winter swells start hitting our shores, the parking lot at Ho`okipa fills w/happy, smiling faces of surfers taking out their guns that have been in storage since the last of the previous seasons winter swells. All of the north shore is full of people smiling! There are parking spots in Paia town once again. I love this time of year.

instinct- sound of the ocean soothes my restless soul- thanks Iz

The Intellectual

The intellectual is always showing off;

the lover is always getting lost.

The intellectual runs away, afraid of drowning;

the whole business of love is to drown in the sea.

Intellectuals plan their repose;

lovers are ashamed to rest.

The lover is always alone, even surrounded with people;

like water and oil, he remains apart.

The man who goes to the trouble

of giving advice to a lover

gets nothing. He's mocked by passion.

Love is like musk. It attracts attention.

Love is a tree, and lovers are its shade.

Rumi

If I am anything I am instinctual. I haven't made a lot of regretful choices in life. I have gained insight out of every bad choice. My next choice involves relocation- or more like beginning a process of setting up dual locations. I don't know that I could ever give Maui up totally. I have passed through so many rites of passage here that it is a part of me. I inhale/exhale Maui wherever I find myself. I hear in the back ground Israel Kamakawiwo`ole's "White Sandy Beach in Hawaii" and his "Country Roads" brings me to tears every listen. This place has a network of roots growing inside me. They nourish me.

It's also time to put down new roots in familiar places, or unfamiliar places. Istanbul calls- continuously. Istanbul drove me to my graduate studies. Why is it that favorite places drive me to such grand decisions? I wonder when a lover will ever bring forth this desire- to uproot. Travel is my lover that is always with me. I am always warm at night, always underneath the shade tree of my lover, always walking the beach at sunset, or hiking up a mountain peak with my lover. With one kind touch I am set free. Free to wander, to roam the far reaches of the globe. So much treasure out there. What is dream & what is reality? Will I ever let go of this lover? Iz sings it so beautifully, "In this life I was loved by you"

Listening to Iz tonight is like the stubborn lover that has overstayed their welcome. Thoughts of departing from Maui are suddenly stunted as the root mass grows in size within myself. Sturdy, steadfast- anchoring its vines throughout my limbs so I don't forget- never to forget this place that has imprinted its lifeforce in my DNA. Maui is quite the selfish lover indeed. Squeezing out any other potential suitors that vie for a chance at my affections. If you love something enough to set it free it may come back to you...

The thing of it is that I am just not satisfied or satiated to travel for extended periods. I've traveled up to 5 months at a time on a regular basis searching for some sort of regularity in this. It's just not enough time. There is too much in this world. One thing I've noticed though about Hawaii is that it feels so remote. It's these country roads I seek out anywhere I go. The souk's of Morocco, the marketplace on Kos in the southern Greek islands off the Turkish Coast, the mountains of Andorra La Valle... Ruta 40 through Argentina's 7 lakes region, the Black Sea region of Bulgaria, the shores of the Bospherous, the northeast beaches of Brazil, Valdez, Alaska... Maui is always with me. It never strays far from my most heartfelt intimicies. We are soul mates. I feel fortunate.  I wonder if others share these feelings about where they choose to live. They must.

Sunday morning aloha o ka aina o maui no ka oi

I see the morning stars. Laying in bed listening to the surround sound rain- I can hear the bass pumping from the Mackies to the northeast. Falsetto is dripping down off the gutter to the west. Sounds like Uncle Richard Hoapi`i & brothers playing some slick slack key guitar. I want to soar above the clouds to see where the rainbows are hiding.

It's so easy to slip back into Maui life. Everything is so inviting. A rainy day spent in bed watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer season 4 is even inviting. That is not my destiny today though. My true destiny is to stay at home & study but sadly that is not going to happen. Why can't I focus this semester? I'm working less than 50 hours a week (phew!), I'm actually keeping my shack fairly clean & tidy, my diet is centered around fruits & veggies- What is it? Who is it? Is it words? Lack of words?

Lexical choices- this is interesting. It's what people say, or don't say, or stop saying. What motivates some people to just stop? Incommunicado. Poof I'm gone. Buhbye. Then there is texting. When does it go to an extreme? In my Language in Society linguistic class this summer one of my classmates observed text-etiquitte between males/females. She kept logs of her texts between male & female friends. She noticed a pattern (you guys know how much I love to identify, follow & try to figure out underlying meanings of patterns in cultural behavior I'm sure...) of female friends leaving long(er) texts regardless of urgency of message whereas her male textors, including suitors, left brief messages & sometimes down to 1 word. She considered this a fundamental difference between males & females.

I wasn't quite buying it but then I decided to do my own research & check out my logged texts... bingo pajama. Same same. Regardless if my textor was a male friend or a male partner, it showed the same results: my female friends left more in depth, personal messages consistently. This is fine in itself as I really enjoy the freedom of texting- the lack of immediacy in it. The message gets across, no one has to be disturbed if they don't want to, there is a record of sent texts so traceable. etc. So many benefits!?

Now as I explained this phenomenon to another classmate in NYC, she immediately wanted more information such as, "so do these minimalist textors call you though? I didn't answer right away as I had to consult my iPhone... I think I was kinda not looking forward to delving further in that conversation- no I know I wasn't going to enjoy it. The proof is in the pudding- or the iPhone log in this case...  She went on further to say that real spoken conversation was essential in addition to texts & that society is embracing this technology (of course- as it is useful), but we are robbing ourselves of some other, much needed on an esoteric, spiritual, sensual, primal level; stimuli of other senses. You know what? She is right on some level. We sit around on our computers (such as I am doing right now as I blog, skype w/Brazil & sift through FB chat to see if Debbie of Istanbul is online...) in these... these environments- not artificially constructed, but certainly manipulated, checking for messages in inboxes, or calls not taken & going to voicemail so we can react at an 'available' time. I do it, yes. Don't we all? But is it right? Is it right for our human-ness?

Are we becoming more human by embracing technology or less humane by readily using it?  As an example I think about cyber love letters. Words can describe beautiful things & we can conjure up exquisite images but we can't hear the words- as they were meant to be heard. Now that I think about it even a handwritten letter tells so much more about someone's feelings that they are trying to convey to the recipient: you see the words filling up the pages and can feel the other person at the other end of that pen/pencil. You can trace your finger over their words and it evokes response, emotions. What does onscreen fonts do? Well it does effectively convey a message, but not a very sensual one as I see it- or as I read it. I'm a very sensual, tactile, kinesthetic person. I need this. I know this. There is no substitution for human-ness, human contact, physical-ness.

So if lines of online communication suddenly stop what does this mean? Does it mean the same thing as when one stops receiving handwritten letters? Does it mean the same thing as when that certain ringtone you have set from that certain person stops chiming? Perhaps it means nothing. Perhaps it never was anything to become nothing. Is my friend right- do people hide behind their texts because life is full of superficialities in this modern world? Computers are cold, hard objects unable to emit emotions. Are people turning this way too? Is this our destiny? To become so remote & robotic & emotionally unresponsive.

Tough considerations for a country girl such as myself. This is why I need to be connected to the jungle. To the knowledge I receive from it. The emotions it provokes in me while roaming around my shack in the bewitching hour listening to critters. I even managed to find solace in listening to the rats come out at night while in NYC. I took pleasure that something- even so banal- evoked an emotional response in me as I took breaks from my computer & schoolwork. I tried so hard to keep it together over there and find some sort of nocturnal beauty that could temporarily distract me from the cyber-reality of the situation. Back here on Maui I listened to the toads as of recent. As I was coming up the driveway last night, in my headlights I could see all the toads hanging out in the rain. Made me happy.

Who am I kidding- I can't find emotions in a text? Not so far anyway. I've looked for it. I've wished for it- sure. But I haven't found it & I won't so I can just stop looking for it. The jungle prevents me from being so unresponsive. The beauty & grandeur of Maui is awesome and can bring tears to my eyes if I think deeply enough about it. As well I realize I cannot  provoke emotions from someone not wanting to be emotionally responsive. The more time I spend in the jungle the more I reflect on my classmates dismay over our conversation.

On the flip side though, I have doubts over the legitimacy. This entry is point in case. This is very emotional. My emotions are flowing as fast as my fingers can tap away on the keyboard. I believe I am communicating effectively what I wish to convey. Maybe the problem isn't the intrusion of technology after all. Maybe the underlying facet has to do with timing. With that thought I end this entry as the timing just isn't right to delve into this monster right now because now it's time to watch 1 last episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer... I've decided I am complicated in the most uncomplicated of ways but not many seem to get it. It somehow gets lost in text/cyber translation...

5th time is a charm

Heading into the bewitching hour and needing to get this out of me. I've been pondering romantic relationships as of late- and of course that means self-analyzing mine. It's funny but I always refer to my most recent ex as my hex (pun intended). So it's strange, or uncanny, or quixotic? that he called tonight to chat. We talk like we never split up. We both know we did but... I don't know. Honestly we never talked about splitting up. I went to Istanbul, came back after many months gone and he moved to Jersey... We knew what it meant when I left, but... It was just some accepted thing, and this was fine. Some questions needed answering at different points in time but it was fine. Why is this? I mean I traveled the world with this man. We always had a great time. I guess I always knew he wasn't the right one, but the one for right now- that turned into many years. I suddenly thought, maybe I am his hex (no pun intended). Am I the one that bewitched him & never freaked out on him & never once in 4 years told him I was in love w/him? Is this the reason he can't let go in a sense? Is it because I always treated that relationship so casually that he is still attracted to our history? I think it is.

As I ponder this I remember back farther to my other romances, and by this I only consider 'the big ones' w/serious time invested & not just distractions. So ok 4. The first set the pace. I was so young & impressionable. Then came the introduction to yoga- and liberating my mind and the realization that I could have my own dreams & that I needed to have my own dreams & not just latch onto someone else's. I was an arm piece, knew it, was fine w/it for a while, then needed to rise above it. I was outta there so fast & on a plane to Hawaii soon afterwards. It never got ugly though. I just said I needed to go. I never wanted to take anything from him. I wanted a clean break- no struggles, no drama, no hate, no taking what wasn't mine to take. Years later I still hear from some of his friends who tell me that he always respected me for just letting go.

Next relationship ended w/another monumental rite of passage in my life- college graduation. That time as well I just needed out & needed to grow- on my own I told him. From him I learned to really understand the power of my mind & how I can rely on myself to make sound decisions... There was a certain element of my father in him for sure. He taught me to be independent- just like my father. To understand that other people couldn't make me happy unless I was first happy with myself. Such a valuable realization, yet one that seems to play itself out in my long-term relationships- lol. We soaked up the bohemian life of Maui together cruising around in VW Vans, late night gatherings conversing about the most esoteric topics in the universe & beyond, exploring the undersea life of this incredible island, and more. Oh, I never told this man I was in love w/him. He knew it, he didn't have to hear it. This has always been my thoughts on the subject. We still keep in touch.

So far it sounds like these influential men in my life has created a monster...

The next guy, well this was the one- the geologist. We knew we only had a set amount of time together. A year- he was not staying on Maui as he was only here for a job to raise $ to get to Chile. There was so much passion. As the time got closer for his departure, it just got more intense. Then the ideas of an afterlife of sorts popped up. It was a bittersweet day the day he left. He had another friend bring him to the airport. We both knew it would be too difficult. Soon thereafter I seriously considered selling everything & moving to Chile to be with him. I started the process, but after a while I stopped. I knew it just wasn't right as he had to go out & experience the world as per his original plans. I figured if you loved someone enough & let them go, they might come back...

After his worldly explorations we were back in contact & he wanted to come out to visit me again. It was a great reunion, & I saw it in his eyes, & it was in my eyes at first as well. By the end of his vacation he looked at me and he knew. He said, this is temporary right? We both knew it. Now this is the only man who has never kept in contact w/me. Again, no nasty partings, but no amicable lasting friendships either. This was the man who, our last days together (round 1), agreed that something really cool was developing... No need for words but they came anyway. This departure (round 2) though, that was it. I even tried to get ahold of him when I in turn left for Chile, w/another man, just to get in contact & the common denominator of Chile spurred interest in reviving the relationship into a friendship. Nope. Nothing. Years later a friend, who introduced us- who was his ex-girlfriend's best friend, told me he was married w/a kid & perhaps another on the way. I just always wondered why he never wanted to get in contact w/me- that's all. If anything, this is the man I think of- in terms of really having a relationship with- the kind I want to have again.

This brings us up to date w/the hex- the most current ex. You already read about him. There's more. There was a medical disaster. I was hated & loved simultaneously- told after the fact. Perhaps some scars incurred from this relationship- but not conventional scars. Scars, it seems, that bind us still. I told him once that if we didn't quit each other we would ruin any chances for normal relationships w/anyone else. That was close to 2 years ago & so far nothing to disrupt. Him though, he has someone else & I just feel badly for her. I shouldn't though. It's none of my business. He has assured me we can remain close. He is a good guy, just not, never, the right guy. I recently told him he was a much better friend than a boyfriend. I think he agrees.

Where does this all lead me? It's almost 1am & I'm listening to the rain outside. It sounds so sensual. I'm thinking I'd like to listen to it w/a #5... When are dress rehearsals going to be over! Why am I so complicated? I always considered myself low maintenance- lol

patterns

I've started a new pattern, or ritual, since I've returned to the Island & new shack: Once at home after work I take my organics from the day before that have been left generating gases all day long and bring it up to the compost pile to mix in w/the rest of the community's. Today the wolf dog that loves to sleep underneath my truck and is always agitated when I need to use my truck & trots off like it is such an imposition or disruption in his schedule was perched on top the grassy knoll nestled between 2 of the hens. He just looked up at me as if to acknowledge that yes, he is warming up to me. I moved on from the composting to the banana patch and picked a few to cover my potassium needs for the next 24 hours, then skipped off to the edge of the gulch where the avocado tree is... 4 freshly dropped on the ground for me. Oh the guacamole I made tonight... As I made my way back to the shack I looked at the lilikoi vine swollen with ripening fruits too young to pick yet. Now the limes are going off though but sadly no margaritas were on the agenda for the evening.

The nights are so quiet here- time passing so unobtrusively. Many times it's 2 am before I realize that I need to be up in 4 hours. I've grown so accustomed to this pattern that I don't seem to mind too terribly when my iPhone starts barking @ 6am to get up & outta the house in 20 minutes. I've actually come to appreciate the pressure of the situation & prevail. It is a mindgame I suppose- kinda like chess. It makes sleeping in on the weekends til 10 so rewarding.

Speaking of chess, partners are springing up in the most fanciful of places. I'm looking forward to strategizing & seeking out new patterns. I think one can learn a lot about a person through a chess match. I almost feel it should be a prerequisite for dating someone... I don't know- I'm still developing this theory.

Another pattern I've grown quite attached to is to do a tarot reading w/my Aleister Crowley Thoth deck when I need to delve deeper into a situation that somehow concerns myself as a way to bring in some new acknowledgment that has been overlooked or not even focused on, or covertly rejected while seemingly ignorant. The card of the evening: Knight of Cups- fire in water & trying to balance out. I'm going with sentimental obtrusiveness here... That is all there is to say about this matter. I'll keep my thoughts superficial here- as w/the underlying meaning of the card in context.

That's enough introspection for the evening. I'm going to break my pattern of sleep deprivation & check out now.

New Moon reveals bittersweet truths

Sometimes plans fall through. Today was such a time. More like today was an extension of last night where all that was right was wrong- which turned out to be right. This is good. There are other thoughts that float past leading to another path- one which I'm not so confident about understanding, or accepting.

Most times I reflect & feel so fortunate that my father taught, without overtly teaching, me to be so independent & forward thinking. Why do I suddenly feel it necessary to consider the counter-experience? Why does the new moon reveal such bittersweet truths this moon phase? Why is Norah Jones' "turn me on" playing in the background? The starry sky tonight driving home from Kihei seems somehow a reminder- mocking me. All the stars laid witness to my thoughts.. listening while the night breeze cloaked me into a crisp realization that all is not what it seems.

The bewitching hours, once again. It's always this time of night where life always strikes me as being most enriched. I always enjoy listening to Chaka Khan in these moments. That's one beautiful sister. Why do my father's words ring true? Why do Chaka's songs sting so much sometimes? The weight of this knowledge crushes my lungs right now. Why is there no rain tonight to drown out the sounds of the stars beckoning me outside to ponder their brilliance? Luring me w/their luminescent charms- I'll have none of it tonight because this new moon, this new moon feels distant & unresponsive- or perhaps actually more responsive in its unresponsiveness that it screams truths to me- bittersweet truths.

my version of Groundhog Day: 8/28/09

What is it- that feeling you feel when you step off an airplane to a place you haven’t seen for many months and you call home? Arriving home from an extended journey used to be so bittersweet for me and I suppose it still is: Maui No Ka Oi. Translated to Standard American English (SAE) from Hawaiian that’s Maui is the best. Translated from SAE to Hawaiian Creole English that’s Maui stay ono. (ono = delicious). Bittersweet because it is incredible; beautiful shades/textures of sandy beaches, streams, waterfalls, jungles, hiking and… and… beauty every step of the way. I have an incredible career here that keeps me stimulated within the scientific community. Great friends, endless outdoor activity: the intimacy of knowing a place, really knowing a place. Knowing that I can arrive back on isle without a place to live, without my car, without much money, still spaced out from an 11-hour journey by air back in time (6 hours back in time BTW), and just needing to chill out. That’s the sweet part. The so-termed bitter is that I know I need more. I always have. I have always had to travel for extended periods of time. To escape this fantasy island & experience the grittiness of another expression of life- a more common expression for most people. Seasons are so subtle here. Most can’t recognize but my body is tuned in to Maui’s frequency. The sky was light, vibrant blue with huge extremely dazzling white cottonball clouds marching like saints down the SE side of Haleakala’s slope into the sea and across to Kahoolawe Island looming in the distance as a once fading and now renaissance=like symbolic image of the steadfastness of the Hawaiian people stemming back to ancient times. A constant reminder of how things could still be… The sun was low on the horizon even though it was late afternoon. I could just tell, that’s all, that the last days of summer were already set into motion.

My heart sings. Pre-sunrise in the jungle: heavy rain downpours turning into lighter spasms of intermittent showers, the sudden cacophony of birds chirping- I can hear 4 separate songs as I type. My return to Maui has met all expectations indeed. A good friend, who took me under her wing and let me stay at her place until my new shack was available, greeted me at the airport. She drove me around and listened to my ranting about my time in NYC First thing post airport pick-up she carted me off to Baldwin Beach so I could jump in the water and we could walk the most beautiful stretch- well certainly the most meaningful stretch of beach for me as I have gone through so much on this beach. Every emotion possible has been encountered at this beach. My first impression was that summer storm damage eroded the sand away again this year down at the cove. Sighting the trees fallen onto the sand and buried in water since last season and now exposed w/their mossy green brilliance sagging off them as Dali’ clocks/images hung dreamlessly off objects within a Catalan landscape. With the late afternoon sun, the whitecaps on the seas in the distance creeping closer to the shoreline and a graveyard of fallen pine trees tossed along the shoreline like one’s dirty laundry at the foot of the washing machine, a lone fisherman casting his ulus pole from the waters edge, the lifequard on a sunset run for one last check over, Maui life was picturesque in that moment. As we walked the shoreline my toes found themselves strenuously crushing deeper into the sand, down to the moist, cool to touch coarse-grained granules that massaged my feet- who were so exposed to the entirety of NYC this summer and so graciously took me everywhere in those 5 boroughs and now they felt rejoiced, reinvigorated, regenerated.

We spoke of our summer highlights, lowlights, and the typical streamlining down the middle of the road everyday occurrences that carries us all through the largest chunks of our lives. She was on the high of starting a new job with another company- who I had once worked for. I listened & was genuinely happy for her. As well as she stimulated renewed interest in archaeology for myself as well. Now I was looking forward to returning to work come Monday. All those long, arduous hours spent under the sun that threatens to invade any exposed area of your body, all the sand spitting back at you in the dunes when the trades are blowing incessantly, the miles of thorny brush you have to hike through and hack away at w/machetes during surveys as well as all the resulting cuts & bruises- the hours of mapping sites- just all of the bounty that archaeology offers!

I relived NYC stories- all incredible moments experienced. School had empowered me to yet a higher degree. I can’t help it, I am one of ‘those’ people who has always enjoyed what academia can provide if you let it- or ‘get’ it more accurately- not just go through the motions of ‘going to school’ but really get off on the challenge of studying theories, and coming up with your own interpretations, and then can challenge prevailing theories- not to be right or wrong, but to succinctly state & support a hypothesis to be refuted, revised or simply revealed. I do love this regardless of if in school or not, but to just challenge myself continually and see what I can come up with- this drives me.

We both had tales of lost loves and new lovers. She always looking for love, or imagining love more so. Every encounter is an optimistic possibility. Myself, ever the scientist, I look at the picture as a whole and break it down into individual components immediately. So exciting to delve into the mysteries of love/lust through scientific knowledge- this is my high. I am hopeless as I know right off if time is going to be invested- real intimate time. I’ve never been one to ‘date’ casually. The anthropologist in me sees contact as something primal and instinctual & it should just be allowed to develop on its own course with as little interference/words as possible to disrupt the vibration that should be developing & most often drowned out by sounds & words that just add confusion. Of course this means that body language must be meaningful & truthful- not always the case. I watch cats and when meeting a cat for the first time… it either comes up to you or it doesn’t. You meet eyes and lock into each other. It is that initial encounter that explains a lot of how a cat thinks. It doesn’t necessarily need a pet, or want a pet from just anybody. It senses first. If it is a sudden introduction, well I guess I’m saying I’m a bit like this cat.

Ok sidetracked. Maui, like anywhere, has its pros/cons. Right now I am riding the wave high on the crest of the developing wave just before getting tubed. The elusive O. It’s a great state of mind. I’ve seen stars, rainbows, afternoon showers, sunrises, sunsets… I didn’t see any of these things in NYC except rain showers. My body sensed this disharmony & even though it was obscured by all there is offered up to do in that incredible city, by day and into the night, it is these essential elements that make my body sing.

My new shack & myself are introducing ‘ourselves’ to each other. It is like a living entity in that I need to become intimate with all my environments. I am starting to make it ‘mine’. I saw a moonbow last night inbetween squalls. I am looking out into thickets of bamboo and ferns & wild gingers & just too much to individually rattle off but the desired effect has been achieved- my mind is blown. All this lushness- there is a sensual beauty of being a solo witness to the rush of feeling a breeze walk through and reach out and touch your arm so the hairs briefly react to the touch, but there is also pleasure to be had experiencing this w/a lover and I’m thinking that is exactly what’s missing from this scene this fine Thursday morning as I prepare to get up & greet the day…

summer '09 in a New York Minute... red wine observations

almost 1 am

& sitting out on the stoop (wow- not going to be able to say THAT much longer...) observing the nights events: raindewy remnant drops from a quite heavy mist the past few hours, cloudy sky w/lapses giving way to the black noir (still no stars- not 1 this entire summer), a VERY reduced rat population.

Was that due to that really heavy rainfall almost 2 weeks ago? Was it the massive amounts of rat poison & insecticides they must use in this city (I have not seen 1 ant in my flat all summer- or cockroach. Was it due to running around on all that dog piss from these leashed, trained when to urinate dogs that rule the Upper West Side? Hey, it kills the trees. Oh, here, right now a owner & his 2 dogs searching for a tree with a patch of dirt. It's something to do with their claws tap tapping on the pavement that fascinated me all this time I think. As I transport myself into the world of dog- as I would probably view it if I were a dog- I have decided that dogs don't like to walk on pavement. It is such a strange existence for these dogs of NYC. I don't know really.

I'm actually feeling a sense of loss due to the lack of rats. The rats of NYC are very different than the rats of Hawaii. They are equal in size. Do that rats like scavenging the streets (Oh! There is one right now!) or the jungle more? I think in the streets they don't have to worry about other animal predators- just toxins whereas the jungle rats have to worry about animals. I would think jungle food tastes better than city food though.

My New York Minute is just about up. Time is now on the side of the jungle. I can hang in the City- yes indeed I have taken advantage of every possible opportunity to live this City life. It is a parallel universe to my familiar existence in the Pacific.

I adore the subways. Their efficiency is unparalleled- yet it is absolutely necessary to possess an iPhone w/ ALL subway apps and maps. I have mastered the art of figuring out where on the platform to stand to walk the least amount of time in the subways. I have still to master the art of exiting above ground and knowing where north is when the avenues are very far apart and trees & buildings obscure the street #'s, or south of 14th where it all turns into whirled peas. I always complained how hot it was in the stations and how cold it was in the trains. I only got on the wrong train once when I was inebriated- very late at night so a lesson learned well & early on to realize to keep it together in these instances... I tried to always ride on the first or last car so I could watch the tracks. This was always fascinating. I am so fascinated with the network of lights, rails, cables, ambient lighting and how whenever I looked off into the horizon there were little nooks & crannies of history recessed in those walls. Sometimes sporadic sunlight beamed through from the world atop the earth. Sometimes images printed on the walls that reminds me that even, and most especially, ancient man chose to express their feelings as pictographs/grafitti.

I never drove once, or missed driving. I always found it amusing that I rarely see a 4x4 driving in the city- or even a small truck honestly. I have to laugh as I can't live without my 4x4 on Maui- it is necessary requisite behavior there as is a small car is here- if you're going to have a car that is & most choose not to.

I have certainly walked all of Manhattan, & some parts of Brooklyn & less of Staten Island. Oh yea, let's not forget Jersey. I did venture there twice. Queens & the Bronx got a pass this time around but I saw enough of Queens a few years ago while temporary stationed out in Jamaica.

Three months just isn't enough time to delve into all 5 boroughs. After all, that is simply a New York Minute. 90% of my time here was school-focused. The New School was the 'mothership' for me here. Feels so incredible- STILL- to have thrown myself back into academia. It has been extraordinary connecting with the minds I encountered. What I love about the 'family' is that we all have 1 thing in common in this graduate program- our passion for travel & cross-cultural encounters and how to use language, and language learning, as a means for expressing ourselves. Everything about me has changed, become challenged in the most meaningful of ways. Just BEING here was such a challenge; not having access to a prolific ocean full of passion & renewing energy.

Yes, this deficit was channeled into other endeavors. Last night, no 2 nights ago I woke up to that sound again- the sound of a crashing wave, which I still haven't figured out its source but almost positive it is due to a large crater over on Columbus Ave. at the corner of 82nd. Whatever the reason, I adore that sound. It makes me smile to associate this unidentified sound with an identifiable association in my mind.

So back to channeling my energy in alternative NYC realities. I didn't just look at things- I looked into them. I saw things, I made observations & picked apart unfamiliar concepts to get to their core and reason for existence: everything from making one's bicycle appear worthless by painting it white & chipping it in places so it won't get stolen (most had 2 locks, but many had 3- as well as seat locks, etc.) to going to the website that tells everyone where the open bars are for the evening- usually between 5-6pm. One of my favorites NYCisms that I became accustomed to when wanting to slink around in sky high heels was to wear my thin raincoat w/the big pockets (one of my best investments while here as it seemed to always be raining or sprinkling at night) and slip them in while I schlepped about town in the comfort of m

y havaianas. The requisite phrase to Lenys was as follows: "When we get to within 1 block of the club let us know so we can change into our stepping out shoes." I recall he didn't give us enough time while walking up to Therapy. Carolina Ballerina and I unleashed our furies on him for this fau paux...

It's now 1:45 am and the rat never reappeared. I think the entertainment as viewed from the stoop is over for the evening as now I just keep seeing cops in unmarked cars drive by. The sky has changed from cloudy to now just a muted puddle. How dull these skies are if you remove the architectural buildings from consideration. Strange but I can't even say I had a successful run at being a peeping tom- everybody's air conditioners seem to be in the way of proper viewing...

Gotham

Getting ready to pack up & exit this strangely charming island. Admittedly, I have been under the influence of NYC's charms- but never under the illusion that it is a city I could function in for too long a time frame. My mind has become so enriched here. My body has atrophied- in the strangest of ways. I don't feel passion from the environment. The people, yes, but the land, no. My body longs for the jungle. It longs to get back to work; back to the earth, back to the sand dune, back to the beach, back to Maui. My body needs nourishing. I need to replenish myself. I need to follow the moon, to see the stars again, to hear the animals at night, to hear the rain. How I miss watching movies in the jungle. In NYC's favor is the MOVIES! All the incredible movies I have seen here. I can't get enough. By far my favorite thing to do anytime of the day or night. New friendships have been created and I am so grateful that I have made connections on a level that these people are always a part of my life now.

I'm feeling a bit disconnected already from the City. I remember this is how I felt towards the City when I arrived. That's all. I feel better now...

Shakespeare in the Park- The Bacchae

I was the lucky recipient of 2 free tickets from the Shakespeare in the Park summer series of plays held nightly in the outdoor Delacorte Theatre. It is this opportunity- to be able to walk across the street to the Park to watch a world-class play w/world class actors/actresses- that makes me feel honored to have spent a good chunk of time in NYC & really get to know the cities delights intimately.

Tonight's performance was The Bacchae- an ancient Greek tragedy by Athenian playwright Euripides. The Thebian king, Pentheus is punished by the god Dionysus, who is living among men, for refusing to worship him. As well, his mother Agave mistakenly tears off her sons head and limbs thinking him to be a creature.

Dionysys, or Bacchus, is feeling pissy towards Pentheus, King of Thebes, his cousin & nemesis because Pentheus got the throne from Cadmus- the grandfather they both share. Pentheus is pissy at Dionysus because all the women of Thebes are deserting families & children to be w/Dionysus- the Bacchae, or devotes. They continually walk up the mountain, Cithaeron, in a trance-like induced state (well, he is the God of Thunder and a gaze from him is thought to hurl mortals into fits of ecstasy- I know a man who currently produces this behavior in myself actually...) to join their new god, and in doing so denounce Pentheus.

I loved the darkness of the material. There was such beauty to the feelings being emoted by the actors. So the play has some macabre overtones and the setting was incredible at the outdoor ampitheatre with a threatening sky ready to burst open & into a frenetic downpour- which it never did.

There is so much else to explore in Central Park as well. It is so sweet to walk up to Belvedere Castle and view the Park from above. The Rambles is a devastatingly romantic walk through a quaint dirt path with overgrown vines

rambling over the trees creating an archway to walk under as you ramble down, or up. Benches are conveniently places at remote spots throughout for lovers to partake of each others charms as the lush foliage certainly must induce feelings of seduction into everyone who crosses this path. I know I got the fever and I plan on taking a certain man here as well so we can lose ourselves in the wonders of nature and recharge ourselves by being exposed to such beauty and grandeur in the woods right here Uptown. Who would think so much natural beauty to exist here.

elusive waning gibbous moon

The silvery globe's trajectory between 82nd & 83rd streets @ Central Park West seduces thoughts into words. Out on my stoop admiring the scenery; the empty street, quiet-like with interruptions of traffic on Columbus in the background and splashes of air conditioners dripping onto stairwells seemingly deafening. Pet owners helping their pets to relieve themselves (I've said all I can say on that subject). Fancy Cleaners across the street. Mrs. Kim a really great woman but I can't help but feel a sense of violation every time I drop off my laundry...

How strange it is to have strangers- well not anymore as I know her whole crew there, so even more weird to me to have acquaintances rummaging through my lingerie. Yes, I think you can learn a lot about a person by what they bring in to get washed. What do these people know about me? Well, they know I have a lot of lingerie. They might even

know it tends to be of French & Italian make. I find this even more disturbing. This is such intimate knowledge. Do they know my stories, my secrets? Do they not even care (best case scenario)?

There has always been some quality for me or idea that is something so sweet about hanging my laundry on the line to air dry. All that vital night air wafting through the layers. All the night blooms that scent the air & envelops & nurtures the cloth. Seductive yes. The key is to get to them in time before getting cooked by the afternoon heat. It is a zen-like experience to arrange lingerie on the clothesline. Sometimes a week would pass before I could get to retrieving them so a series of soakings and dryings filtered through them. Hmmm, the secret life of my laundry; this seems like the plot of a fantastic art house film.

So these are my thoughts on this. I will be happy to give up laundry service once I return to the jungle! I shall never be able to replicate how Mrs. Kim folds everything so neatly with even creases and it has been a pleasure to understand how this can happen...

The moon veers over 83rd st.

now and soon will be eclipsed by buildings. The bottom heavy luminous globe keeps dropping through the clouds to allow a brief glimpse here and there. Again I am reminded of Maui. I can't say I have seen 1 star and certainly not any clusters of stars since my stint in NYC began almost 3 months ago. This is the exchange. The new moon nears (August 20th) and with it a traveler from afar- too far- bittersweet far. Bittersweet prose, bittersweet performance art. Scent-sationalizing, captivating, mysteries turned realities soon to morph into memories of exquisite journeys. This is the meat of life. This is the reclusive artichoke heart awaiting discovery. An epicurean treat. I'm partial to the big hearts that take some time to get to, to get through.

I've had a bit of an art history lesson recently. The importance of genealogy never escapes me. There is an elegance in knowing one's past.

There is a seduction to knowing the story behind a creepy old painting of a distant relative resting in a decaying wood frame sitting patiently in the vestibule above the mantle until one day someone, someone that walks by this painting every day and finally one day, stops and looks at it and is provoked by it. Whatever the emotion that stirs, it is family knowledge, it is a heritage and a birthright. It is cool that's all.

I have felt this in Sporminore, Italy when the need to feel family descendants washed over me many years back. Tucked away in the Dolomite/Tirol mountainous areas in the north, I was overtaken by the beauty of the area: such a high

mountain valley ascending into the mists. The land of amazing apple orchards. There was the township- which took considerable effort to reach. As I was walking up the hill to the town; a library, bar/inn and church was all that I can remember distinctly. Nobody was around and I roamed the church grounds outside and there they were. All my relatives. All the epitaphs holding precious information that links me to my heritage. It was an honor to be the first descendant of my father's to pilgrimage to

this spot. This journey meant something to me, and to my father. It was silent knowledge we shared yet never discussed really. No need.

So I relived this experience of mine through my friend relaying their story. Their story that makes them unique in this world. It is beautiful. I felt beautiful just being a part of it because it touched me and re-touched me to my story. To my family's link to humanity.

The moon has passed to the far side of 83rd st. now.

revolutions, revelations, relations

Twilight 4am NYC

Well beyond the bewitching hour, I have accomplished enough bewitching for the evening and now I lay in bed restless- awaiting sunrise. This evening’s lexical choice that comes to mind is ‘charmed’ or to charm: to delight, to attract, to captivate, allure, lure, fascinate, enchant, enthrall, enrapture, seduce, and a personal favorite of mine, to spellbind… When told you are charming, you sense a magnetism or drawing power- well, not power as that is too ill-suited a word to apply, I think, to consider for all things alluring so perhaps fascination is more easily digested.

There is a loveliness to hearing charming in conversation- especially spontaneously. My heart beats rapidly for a few short, dazzling moments while a wave of sudden shyness ensues before the afterwash of uneasy proud acceptance retreats to a moment in time you want to relive forever.

To feel those fleeting, elusive moments of that wave washing over oneself… now that is an elixir to aspire or dedicate one’s life to, to drink freely from the source- to know the source. So many civilizations before us to present day searching for ‘the elixir’ The people who laid awake through the bewitching hour perhaps asking questions to the universe and deeming a response necessary & in knowing so are perfectly content to await signs, consult necromancers, cast runes to seek destiny marking mysterious & magic significance, and all other means of esoteric knowledge.

So this ‘elixir’ goes beyond charming of course but I suppose in my world, this is necessarily included in the package deal. In my quest to find my elixir, I realize that it is already within, but the search, or the seeking to keep hold of this knowledge without letting clutter of societal banter pollute your body enough where it loses contact with the mind and the two forge 2 separate channels where moments of convergence are far and few between… yea, the division into channels frightens me. War baby.

Through moments of intense stress this semester in school I could feel my body atrophying. Not enough attention paid to hearing/ feeling clues, or hearing them but refusing to ‘go there’ because you got to see something else through that consumes you. It was 4 weeks of intensity, 4 weeks of such incredible loads of brainwork and not enough brain food to manage homeostasis. Through it all I learned so much- again. What you are reading here is my reaction to returning to a balanced state of mind. The summer intensive classes, elevated by being in NYC, had almost wiped out my capacity to keep the river moving as 1 flow. The channel was forming, it formed- for a while in my timeline. I felt the dual, incompatible rhythms. Just a little test to remember I can tough it out when needed, but it is a lot to give up- rhythmic flow of body & mind.

You’ve got to document these moments because the power, the elixir morphs into the words when needed and needing that crutch of seeing the words, well this leads to feeling the words, responding to the words and finally manifesting the words. A great outlet when deep in mental concentration for a finite stretch for me anyway. So hearing charming, as you now understanding through my words, threw my body into delightful waves of magnetism- even if only for a few moments of my timeline, it’s not a feeling to forget easily.

In other news, I am beginning to let go of NYC and welcome thoughts of Maui. I have consumed NYC & taken in its charms for almost 3 months now. NYC’s charm lies in its nocturnal pleasures offered and received. NYC’s charm lies in its movie houses (a special thanks to you Christopher for telling me of the Film Forum- probably my favorite spot, and the cheap Mexican food joint around the corner from it you can dash in & always get a quick bite before the movie). NYC’s charm lies in walking the island- everywhere once you step off the subway. Yes, NYC’s charm lies in the subway, and the iPhone w/the subway apps, the streetfinders, etc. NYC’s charm lies in the food. NYC’s charm lies in the people, the conversations, all the different languages one hears while walking- everywhere. NYC’s charm lies in its small clubs- in which Carolina, my partner in crime and schoolmate, do extended research every weekend, and many a weeknight as well.

This brings me offtrack (not really I am now thinking as there is no track…) to this past weekend. Inez is in town a few days enroute back to Puerto Rico via Portugal, and the 3 of us head to Little Italy for late night din din at OUR spot, with OUR charming Albanian waiter (“Watch out” Carolina says, “I know these Italian men- they’re trouble!”- oh gosh Carolina thank you for that one as I will always crack up when I mimic those words of yours) watching the world go as we dine at tables on the narrow sidewalk next to the (pedestrian-only on weekends) narrow street. I can feel the history as I view the present and surmise the future. We walked for hours afterwards, going in and out of clubs and really living this city. We ended up at the Stonewall Inn where an amazing cast of characters helped us on our journey while listening to finger-tapping, spontaneous karaoke-ness along w/the other patrons and a lone dancer guy who was having a marvelous time.

All the cast of characters in my NYC play are fantastical. There are no bad days here, stressful yes, but bad- no, definitely not. That’s not to say that I’m not excited to leave. These are great moments on my timeline and just throwing myself in a situation for 3 months time is a fantastic journey and my charm in life. I love to travel. I love having my mind blown. I love being challenged by new environments and finding the nuances of a place that make them yours. In a sea of millions, having places where you can take refuge & feel comfortable- this has been very pleasurable for me in this city.

Hmmm it’s now 5:30am & I have to be up at 8 to be in school by 9… damn the nocturnal charms. So hard for me to resist… Now pondering becoming enraptured by Maui’s nocturnal charms – soon enough AND w/a new jungle hut. I have seen pictures of what I think is my next shack and it is on the property where Big Bruce used to have his sweatlodge. It is a sweet property. It is a seductive property; everything is so big there: the flowers, the trees, the open starry sky viewed from the top of the property, the laying on the grass gazing up at said sky in the bewitching hour, the stream, `opili lau (if I remember correctly), the rain showers, the rain soakings, the charms- everything. Soaking up Maui’s elixir and a quick disco nap before class…

dogs in the hood

The dogs of 82nd St. inbetween Central Park West & Columbus Ave.- interesting pet culture here. Again I observe my surroundings in the dark of the night. At all hours I see it- the light of a flat goes on, in a few moments an owner & their dog appears on the stoop, down the steps and onto the sidewalk for this nightly ritual of dog-walking & defecating. How strange it must be to be leashed & enroute to a patch of dirt w/trees (sometimes not even this & just pavement) to 'do their duty' as the owner waits...watching & ever ready to pick up the remains w/requisite plastic bag already wrapped around their hands. I don't think dogs like being observed- I mean who likes to be observed in these instances? It is hard for me to catch dogs eyes here in NYC because I sense this sadness in them being cooped up in a flat all day long and to not have the freedom to run around in a yard and deficate on their time. How strange to train an animal when to deficate. Homo sapiens don't go through this ritual do they? Why does humanity impose this on their beloved pets- man's best friend even? These are my thoughts on this matter and they end here...

So the storm arrived earlier than scheduled this evening. It was 6:15 pm & just back from Zabar's w/foodstuffs when I felt the drops commence. Large, playful bursts at first that I knew within 4 blocks of walking would drench me before my journey's end. So yes, 45 minutes early- pretty good meterological standards I reckon.

Different- East Coast storms, from what I experience on Maui. This was an exceptional lightning and thunder storm that flooded streets instantly where rivers appeared out of nowhere overflowing the curbs onto sidewalks. I've seen nothing like this in a long time. People were flitting all over the streets initially. What a great feeling getting caught in a torrential downpour. It reminded me of a scene in Vienna for me a few years back now. I was in the historic district downtown and found myself in a park where suddenl

y rain broke out in such a feverish manner that as I looked up the scene I saw was vastly different than moments before. Suddenly I noticed that not only did everybody have umbrellas, but there was a sea of couples underneath them walking and chatting in such a sensual manner. Suddenly the whole world was in love and underneath those umbrellas. My eyes were hurting from what I soaked in: everybody was hugging and kissing passionately.

It was such an incredibly beautiful yet painful experience in that moment as I had been traveling along for the past month in remote places. What followed was that I just couldn't stay in Vienna, for whatever reasons I told myself at the time, and headed back to the train station with no destination in mind- just out of the 'city of love'. Arriving at the station, 2 guys were getting off a train & we started talking of travels. They told me of a 3-day dance party in southern Germany in the forest. Off I went... That was fun!

Nearing 2am and I write this to wind down. I have just finished what I think to be my last paper of this school term! It was an emotional experience as all my writings are & even the ones prepared for school. This is a turning point for me as it signals my time in NYC coming to an end. It is such an incredible experience here and what a rich opportunity I have in being here for a chunk of time- enough so I know this city. I have a history with this city. In knowing this, I am ready to journey away from this city.

I have changed. My body has struggled to adapt to this city. It is increasingly difficult to not feel really free from stimulus here. There are not too many quiet moments where I really feel a connection to what I am standing upon. Tonight's rains brought comfort. I ran inside to throw groceries down and back out and just stood in the rain receiving my communion with nature and enjoying myself and the scenery of watching people scramble down the street. The lightning that followed added to the drama as the sky was still blue blue in isolated places with the clouds filling up with so much moisture that they appeared to be free-falling into the rooftops and finally letting go of its embrace and release the negative ions into the atmosphere for humanity to soak up and regenerate. In moments darkness crept over the skyline and thunder ripped through the atmosphere. It made my heart jump. It felt incredible. Just add water and breathe deeply- don't forget to laugh.

I can now unleash my thoughts on what to do my last 3 weeks of NYC life when school is out next week. Do I continue to take advantage of this metropolis? I am free to wander! Free to have my mind blown. Free to honor my wanderlust briefly before hunkering back down on Maui engulfed in work & school. I can almost smell the salt water. It is faint but I can visualize & feel the water tingling. I can feel the wet sand erupt from between my toes, and the I can hear the squeaking of the hot, dry sand upslope underneath my feet as I walk my favorite stretch of sand- the stretch that I know so intimately so memories vibrate throughout my body as I relive them now. To be reunited with this lover... so moody when the sun sets through the crotch of trees bordering the edge and further back into the depths of Iao Valley looming in the distance. It is the curiosity of an adult-child that keeps me together. The wanting to feel something resonate throughout my body in those moments of sunset splendor with rays of light emminating from the Needle and into the atmosphere like a spotlight drawing attention to the coming of dusk.

If I continue to write I will never sleep...

Rooftop BBQ's make things better

My spirits have been lifted & my mood restored. Tonight was such a beautiful reminder, no- slap in the face, that life is incredibly fascinating and that you wake up and you don't know what the day is necessarily going to bring. I had the good fortune to meet up with a whole cast of characters tonight- just people doing their thing in NYC & Phily from all corners of the earth. Together we represented so many countries and ideas and cultural values. It was poetry in motion- as well as poets, filmmakers, artists, and so many more hats that we all wear in life and interchange. It was THE setting for a NYC short story of a cast of seemingly random characters coming together to a function- yet whose lives are all intertwined- some more intricately than others. But the defining line is that this night changed all our lives- even if for a moment in time, it was our moment in time. It was a beautiful experience and those lexical choices cannot even do justice to what I experienced. So many memories of Istanbul flooded my body tonight. Not just Istanbul though but a continuum of travels that culminates in a treasure chest of memories that are instantly activated by a sight, smell, touch, verbalization. I traveled the world tonight through each person and all the collective experiences we brought together. We are animals imprinting our journeys through each others ears, eyes, bodies for self expression. It is a ritual, it is a necessity as cultural creatures for Homo sapiens to figure out ways of expressing ourselves to each other. It is primal. As primal as the nightsky cloaking the sun so we can commune in the darkness as our ancestors did. We must feel the connection- certainly looking into a bonfire long enough evokes these abstract images of states of hypnopompic expressionism- is it real? did I dream it? did I already live this? is this a glimpse into the future? are we all in this moment riding a wave of collective consciousness? This is our connection- make it meaningful, so as to recall the sensation of what made this night so mindblowing. Yes I do believe I got it right once again.

1 woman party...reflecting on K Kitty Kat wisdom

Like a stealthy feline I'm sitting on the stoop watching the rats on their relay course darting in between cars & trash. So many perfect opportunities to pounce on one but I'm not feline enough I suppose. It's a night that I think deeply about professor Kolohe K Kitty Kat. All those nights we used to sit on my lana`i in the murkiness of damp moonless nights. Competing skyline space with the jungle taking over in layers of flowers, trees and rainsoaked clouds. Such grace & shapeliness to the scenery. With every breath soaking up this- all this- around me and each exhalation pure love.

Kolohe K Kitty Kat taught me about fascination & observation of all things nocturnal. So many nights of deafening sounds & vibrations from that land. THE spiderweb that got out of control and with each observation a witness to murder & mummification in gray coffins throughout its web of intrigue. As the rains came down the water would drip off the web with the slightest hint of tantalization. Amazement ensued watching drops trickle its network & send out momentary rays of reflected light on its route to the bottom where the waterfall would build up ever so carefully and culminate in a seemingly long disconnection.

It's like that drop was produced for the very reason I'm relaying the story- because it blew my mind. It always blew my mind. NYC is incredible in many ways but I find it difficult to really be touched deeply by the elements. So far nothing has humbled me on this hallucinatory level that I have come to develop a sense of immense appreciation for so that I can be brought to tears.

School is easing up for me this term. It seems strange to go back to a slower pace. The City already transformed me into this person that was busy all the time and never having time to sleep due 1st to studies, then to explorations. I miss those days of lazing the afternoons away at the shack. All the cooking, the laughter, the gatherings, the weather, the Sunday jazz mornings after yoga, Kolohe K Kitty Kat... Oh but there is the food...all the ethnic dishes here that is amazing. Everything my hands touched this week was delicious. I can't wait to go back to Salam Cafe, the Himalayan Restaurant- just everywhere around every corner lurks tasty treats. Oh and what about the movies? So many movies and film festivals going on all the time here. It's a dream! I adore the old theaters. And the architecture- who doesn't have their mind blown when they lay their eyes on the Flatiron Building?

The weekend was such a release. It's such a good experience to cut loose and dance. It comes so naturally the desire to free myself of inhibitions and just let the body move. I have to say though that New York dance clubs suck- the 'big' ones anyway. Masses of people standing on the dance floor with their drinks posing. All night long drinks spill & glass shatters so not only are posers standing on the dance floor but the crew as well cleaning up the mess. Strange but why not just have no drinks on the dance floor? I'm not down with that shit. Saturday night thought re-confirmed my love of fabulous sweet clubs with people in them because they want to get down and dance. I saw some amazing Brazilian jazz & R&B that was just infectious & everyone's stoked. Yea the night rocked- even the subway ride back racing against the sunrise. Even had one of those subway moments meeting an interesting NYC denzien.

I'll apologize now for any grammatical errors...

HIGHways

Sitting outside on the stoop watching the world go by. I find my mind escaping the clutter of the waking hours & the debris that comes with ingesting the city- this city. Escaping into these moments of peaceful awareness to reflect critically what I cannot, or don't want to process until I'm illuminated by the moon's evasive glow. It's more like an afterglow as the difficulty of sensing where it is with all these buildings in the way is frustrating in many ways. It's like I cannot find my way home. I search though.

With every search comes new beginnings. Never answers, just layers of textured truths than spawn more thoughts laying foundations for seeds of renewal. Thoughts on humanity & our conditioned response- how to rise above conditioned response & feel free. Freedom from attachment of patterns of expectation. Can one really be free of this at all times? I find it increasingly difficult to see this through. If we are still seeking answers, or enlightenment more appropriately, then are we free?

Opening myself up to truths- it's so vulnerable to put oneself really out there. To really feel something- something that you want badly, perhaps to feel it slipping, or lost, and to rise above & realize not all is what it seems- this feels like freedom tonight. Freedom comes at a cost because you have to understand the consequences. You have to handle it graciously. In this you are rewarded with enlightenment through a meaningful experience.

To understand the value in the meaning of the road less traveled. These back roads- I have found the most meaning in these juxtaposed roads with no roadsigns. Passion accelerating down a 2-lane highway suddenly taking a detour onto a pockmarked dirt road. Seemingly so unpleasant at first, it shapes into a distant gas station at the far end of the galaxy where you can refill your fluids and move along.

Suddenly craving some David Lindley. When I dance, as I danced this weekend, I am free. Free from conditioned response & expectations. Sweating next to other revelers in the heat of estatic moments of losing touch of conscious thought processes- this is beautiful- too beautiful to mess up. No pretenses, no inhibitions, just loss of control. These moments of higher awareness blow my mind. I need this- the endorphins it produces, the thrill of humanity in that moment working together as a group yet independently riding the wavelengths of freedom... it is inspiring.

Will there ever be 2 people that can continue on this lost highway, or do we find ourselves stuck in rips in the fabric of time and end up in parallel universes only to spend our time seeking out something that has already happened or currently happening on a different plane of existence?

The lesson here is to embrace all the forks in the road and challenge the unknown because what do we really know? We think we know. We want to know. We want to avoid taking the wrong turn because our more eclipsed comfort zone of being tells us to seek out conditioned response to stabilize. Our primitive minds know- I know. I want. I desire. I will not settle for anything less. There is no lonely highly when you love yourself enough to know- even if the sole hitchhiker on the road.

I always seem to get lost! I feel free. There are like-minded people that seek this. I tend to think they are down that pockmarked dirt road awaiting that moment. I always prefer the pockmarked dirt road. I don't necessarily know what this means. I don't really mind.

smooth sailing ahead

The calm after the storm sinks in slowly. Where to set sail now? So many images, smells, sounds flood my reality now that I feel I am already out on the open ocean charting a course guided by the stars tacking to & fro, sailing into the unknown.

As I step out of of my reality I turn around and look behind me- its still there- the past. It's not going anywhere. If I were to time travel and journey through my mind to the future what would it look like? What if I was to open those doors that remain closed? Where are they- if there are any? What lies behind those doors of perception? Ancient scrolls with intimate wisdom encrypted? I have the time and the desire to break codes. I know what is revealed will blow my mind.

I re-enter to the present moment and am grateful I can access these matters- by whatever means. It is so easy to travel to these places in the quiet of the jungle on those dark nights where so much history, or herstory, reveals itself. The difficulty and inconvenience of the City prevents me from going to these places. I am at a loss in this dichotomy. My heart is heavy with nostalgia for a life - such the life I live among the real giants of existence. Yes man can built cathedrals and monumental architectural wonders to become closer to 'the one' and to marvel at, but one only has to look at the beauty created from earth and water to know, to feel, what prevails. I want this so badly right now. I want. I want. I can't have because I've made the choice to want other things... It is necessary to continue to cultivate my mind and my body. What do I do with all this intimate wisdom? Do I open up & let people in to discover these mysteries with me? This is the skeleton key to the reception waiting behind that door of perception.

I want to live at the junction of earth & sea in a lighthouse- where the doors are round. Where science-fiction, fantasy & the open sea come together. Plan B? Plan B is to go to Montauk for the weekend...