“Heaven on earth, we need it now… walk on …” –U2
Music disrupts gaps for me, coalescing meaning, bringing comfort. Songs arrive at the appointed time, unexpectedly. I delight how the universe links with me in times of empty aloneness, electric connection, deep breath leaps, and unbridled delight. Melody and lyrics are love letters to my soul. So too is the song of the ocean flow, light at sunrise, sunset, starlight, and sand between my toes.
My stockinged foot dangles from the sofa edge, resting and wiggling on the belly of my sleeping, dying dog, in our final week. A fire in the woodstove raises the temperature in our #ZenHouseInTheWoods while I write tonight, and a playlist mix on an original iPod Classic ends with U2. I dare not move, how can I preserve this moment as long as possible? The rise and fall of Kenai’s heartbeat touches calf skin above my sock. His softer than silk fur radiates heat. Some 30 minutes ago, he crawled to here from his cushioned bed six feet away. It’s so quiet now, except for the sound of my fingertips touching lit keyboard letters forming words on the page, and an occasional flame crackle.
I’m not ending the 21 days, after all. Analysis: discovered a great deal in this process, the practices I’ve put into place, and further desire to dive deep to catalyze my kuleana.
I chose this image to speak to me in coming months about life, the value of yes and no, acceptance of our own shadow and goodness, the option to always cultivate kindness and aloha.
I’m on the island that somehow knows my name, invites me to explore, calls me home. It’s Moloka’i, the spiritual center of the Hawaiian Islands. On this actual day 22, I’ve arrived, and walk the shore of Papohaku Beach, with a new friend, and his four-legged, my footsteps sinking deep into the sand. A riptide awaits a few steps into the crashing shorebreak, so in moments I’ll park myself on the berm above the tide line, smell the surf, and offer silent thanks for departures and arrivals, the privilege of self-growth, disrupting the gaps, friendship, and willingness to give permission to what brews within on behalf of an unknown future. Mentor and soul-friend Paula D’Arcy first invited me to this island in 2013 for a summit, which asked the question, “What is the world asking of us in this moment in history?” I again visit, for the fifth time, on my journey to the Kauai Writer’s Conference. The four days on this island will speak deeply to my soul, offer invitation and mystery. Home in Alaska tonight, Kenai at my feet, Kula on his dog bed, I reflect, and invite you to join me:
- What is my kuleana—my splendor, responsibility, and privilege to live?
- What is your kuleana?