Okay, I’ve been back for a whole week. It’s time to pull words from head and tell about Hawaii so I can sleep again. It was predictable in the paradise sense of things but also so much more than I had imagined. My hilarious and industrious travel partner, Jackie and I spent the first two weeks at a commune called Cinderland, before seeing the light and moving up the hill, literally and metaphorically to another ecovillage/commune setting I’m going to leave unnamed. Not to be selfish but I’d like to be able to return to the latter locale and find a bed open and waiting for me.
Day One at Cinderland we thought we struck gold. I’ll pull an excerpt from my journal to give a taste of life there:
“I am so in love with this place. Healing. Eating conscious food. Yoga in the morning. Picking avocados out of the foliage around our house. A medicine wheel on the front wall. A mandala as our doormat. Showering between the banana trees. Sewing up the holes in the mozzy net that covers our California king-sized bed. I haven’t been indoors in days. Playing dice by candlelight and learning old folk songs on the guitar. Looking forward to the Sunday drum circle at the nudie beach. A farmer’s market in Pahoa. An open mic night at the kava bar. Slowing the pace and the days feel more full than ever. Hunting for a blank wall to paint as part of my work trade. Hitchhiking between beautiful places. Multiple jaw-dropping whale sightings. Saying yes to what comes and letting go of everything else. Fear, stories, suffering. Releasing what I know about myself and seeing what’s left. Who I want to be. How open I can be. What happens when you say yes to life instead of forcing it down a certain path? The sound of drumming wafts to me from the nearest living space. The Zen Den. Or maybe Middle Earth. Four beds and a small kitchen. A bookshelf overflowing and endless murals adorning each open surface. Including the floors and the benches. Knee to shoulder-high walls enclose a small outdoor shower also covered in intricate paintings. We renamed our zone The Goddess Nest. A rainbow maze of art that is each wall-less building connects through the jungle by winding red gravel paths, lined in fruit trees and a lacy network of spiderwebs that dangles close overhead.”
The two words that sum this trip up for me are rhythm and flow. The hitchhiking adventures, sunbathing and grounding are punctuated by gatherings involving the pounding heartbeat of drums. The flow is what I keep falling into, pushing myself into, desperately trying to give into. It’s a beautiful experience to venture outside of your comfort zone. It is something that people should do much more often. I could feel that fiery Pele energy. The one that will call to you and pull you to the islands or will rage at you and kick you out until you’re ready to come back. There is an obvious escape aspect to this bippety boppity, off the grid, into the jungle lifestyle and there’s also a realm of deep healing. That looks different for each of us. Some can’t handle the trauma and stress of Babylon. Others need a quiet place to heal before returning. Some are literally hiding out from the law, or their family, or debt. Some are here to build and grow with the earth and each other.
I am breaking through barriers that I’ve built between myself and community. Working on patience and knowing when silence says more than words. Saying yes to this moment and having faith that it will lead me to the exact perfect next moment. Letting go of needing things. The baggage. Even this much stuff is way more than I need. Opening up to see how closed off I’ve been and wanting desperately to push beyond that. There are no accidents. Every step I take is in the exact right direction. I found myself unable to break away from the activated and inspiring people I was continually surrounded by in Hawaii to find the solitude to write. I could absolutely see a life there, but in this moment I am feeling pulled inward. To find space and quiet to officially finish a polished and complete draft of my novel and to get that out in the world is my only goal at present. I thank Pele and the Big Eye for giving me that clarity and I know I will be back just as I am always going back to everywhere. What a fun and rainbow ride.
10 responses to “Whale Medicine”
In 1970, I lived on Makena Beach, an enclave on Maui filled with 100 of us naked to the world. Your writing takes me back and awakens very fond memories of my own unfolding. Love your words and the way you allow them to flow. And I love you.
Really nice !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Beautiful and so very reminiscent!
i like reading you’re writing….that little beach sunday party is fun huh?
Kehena on Big Island. Love it.
Reaching, stretching, knowing, facing and yearning for complete acceptance of all that you were, all that you are, and all that you will be….
that’s what I read. Paradise within juxtaposed against paradise around you. I’m grateful you wrote this piece. I wondered about your trip and visualized us speaking about it upstairs in your room. Now it has happened. Good luck on your writing. Keep going. Love you, Barbara
Inspiring and refreshing. Thank you kindly, for sharing.
Hell to the yes! Yes.
Sounds amazing Molly! The sort of experience from which I could definitely benefit
Sounds amazing Molly!