Of Rocks and Fish Gods

Rocks are all around us. We live on island which is in reality an extinct volcano. Definition of volcano: melted rock that turns into hard rock. So it makes sense, I guess, for there to be such a thing as a "rock garden". These rocks are volcanic, black and faded black, full of holes. They eventually erode into the red staining dirt of the island. 

The rock garden I found is a display ancient rocks, which means they were in use in the days of the Hawaiian chiefs and kings, before the land was taken by the U.S. government. 

Pohaku hunaahuula ~ "the hiding place of the chief's 'feather cloak'"

Chief Kukona once hid his colorful feather cloak in the hole under this rock to confuse his enemies during a battle.

 The flatness of the salt pan was used to evaporate sea water, leaving the salt behind.

This large bowl was a sort of ancient punch bowl, used to serve the sedating 'awa drink.

Pohaku Hooikaika ~ "the stone to increase strength"

People used weights in exercise even in the ancient days.

Pohakuloa ~ tall stone - the fish god

This rather tall rock was once worshiped as a fish god. It is strange to see this stone, feel its lifeless rough surface, imagine thinking that this rock could bless your fishing. It doesn't even seem to have a definable shape - it could just be any other rock. 

A Monotonous Beauty

It is a beautiful evening. Mondays are given a bad reputation, but when the sun sinks away and the day is heaving a tired sigh of final rest.... then I can find peace. The clouds blush peach and cream and periwinkle, their reflections in the vast and silent sea giving it the aspect of village-sized pink polka-dots. The forested hillsides which never see winter are filled with the symphonic cacophony of hundreds of roosting birds, chatting up on the day's flight adventures. I watch as a flock of green parrots rush headlong with the wind to join their companions. The birds might be winding down, but the mosquitoes are just waking up, hungry as ever. In one wedge of cloud above me hovers the whisper of a rainbow. It vanishes ounce by ounce back into shapeless vapor.

I feel my worries and concerns grow smaller before this greatness, this world that goes on and on unhindered. 

"Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? ... So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." ~ Matthew 6:26,27,34

What if every minute of the day were like this: golden, peaceful, quiet? What if the sun always sat just on the horizon, shedding across the verdant fields the last rays of warmth? What if?

I suppose the day's work would never get done. We would be tempted to sit and watch all day, resting as if for eternity. And we would be lost in a monotonous beauty.

Under the Weather

Blah. It feels as though the whole island has come down with a sneezy, sniffly, headachey cold. Note to future and hopefully wise self: Never say "I never get sick" because the next morning you're bound to wake up with a sore throat. 

As you can tell, I'm feeling a little under the weather today, and the fact that I feel like a basket of dirty laundry has given me leave to spend most of the day in Africa with Jules Verne. I have also consumed enough honeyed tea to drown a Democrat. 

All complaining aside, today I "happened" to watch this video by the ever-inspiring elmify:

Perfect timing. For a while there I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. So thanks to elmify, I did take that walk, and I did compile that list of things that make me happy. And once I started thinking of all the things I am thankful for, I couldn't seem to stop. Life isn't so bad, after all. God has given me so much - who am I to complain? He is the source of joy, of happiness, of peace.

For lack of a better place, I thought I'd post some of my favorite things here:

I smile just thinking about...

music

the sea

old-fashioned letter writing

the book of Psalms

early Sunday mornings and lazy Sunday afternoons

The Strawberry Pizza of Doom (with chocolate sauce)

dill-pickle trees

sea foam

the green flash

sailing ships

words
bonfires on the beach

Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat

geckos chirping on quiet evenings

learning how to really play the guitar

Jane Austen

remembering New England

imagining Old England

Pre-Raphaelites

Friday Friday Friday

sweaters

autumn

the inevitability of pumpkin spice lattes

toe socks

dark dark chocolate

Philadelphia

pens that work

Lemony Snicket

black-and-white photography

a general lack of ceilings

playing Jacuzzi

cramped bookstores

long walks

rainy art-museum days

laughter

...and finally...

my people - the family and friends that keep me going

If you've been feeling a little bummed out, or even if you're not, make a list of some of the people, places, and things that make you happy. It brings a little bit of perspective to a cloudy day. Be sure to let me know when and where you post your list! DFTBA

Alakai Swamp Trail

Happy Labor Day! We're celebrating the holiday out here by not laboring. I'm spending a lot of time with my family and friends this weekend, but I have a moment right now to write a post. So I thought I'd share a cool hike we did a couple weeks ago. The Alakai Swamp Trail traverses through the interior of the island, exploring the bogs of the swamp. The cool temperatures, the altitude, and strange eerie atmosphere combine to create a hike like none other on the island. 

You start out with this incredible view:

The altitude and cooler temperatures create a good place for hydrangeas to live:

Once you take in the view and the flowers, it's time to get down to business.

Mist and fog are more common than sunshine up there:

Not too far from the trailhead, you reach a forest:

After the trees disappear, you find yourself on a flat boggy swamp. The trail continues on a boardwalk over the unstable ground.

... I call it the Dead Marshes ...

At the end of the trail is a lookout to the other side of the island. We waited a while for the fog to clear up.

Then we could see a little bit of the coastline appear beneath the misty veil.

We had a wonderful time. We got wet, muddy, and tired, but a day on top of the world is worth it. 

Kayaking the Wailua River

I hope you all are doing well, especially those of you on the East Coast! Out here in the middle of the Pacific, the sea is calm and peaceful, and the images of the Atlantic during Hurricane Irene come as quite a contrast. I pray you and yours are safe and dry.

We've been stuffing August with as many adventures as we can before the collapse of summer results in busier schedules and less free time. One thing we knew we wanted to do was kayak up the Wailua River. Imagine a sunny blue day with a quiet lazy river stretching out before you. No rush. Worries are pushed aside. With a paddle in your hands and nothing but water around you, the day stands still as you go upsteam into the secluded valley fringed with jungle.

Since I was in a kayak myself, I wasn't able to take many pictures of the kayaking part, but I was able to capture the waterfall.

One of the river branches led to a water hole complete with a rope swing and a convenient cliff ledge.

The other branch of the river led to a trail that took us to Secret Falls.

We swam out to the not-so-secret falls, the water pelting our heads like hail.

The shade was cool and green on our hike back to the kayaks. From there we kayaked back down the river and stowed our paddles to wait for our next adventure.

Friendships (Not Quite) Forgotten

The day has slipped away from me completely. I have no idea what Today was at all, because I have been dwelling in the Past for most of it. It was about time, I know. Time to dig out all the scraps of girlhood. To remember what I've almost forgotten and then to release the memories to the grave of time. 

Some part of me has always had a hard time letting things go. I want to cling to what was once important, not letting go of even the smallest memory. I used to save movie ticket stubs, needles from Christmas trees, shells from the beach (of course). One evidence of my love of memory is the large cardboard box full of letters in my garage. And not only letters, but invitations, bulletins, programs. Paper memories. But it's time to let go of the Past. To sort through the 12 shoe/stationery boxes stuffed to the brim with friendships. I'm almost halfway done, but the going is slow. I can't bear to throw away anything unless I've read it one last time. But it is hard to say goodbye, I suppose, and I am keeping some of the letters. Deciding which ones stay and which ones go is difficult. 

I lived in the mountains of Colorado most of my teenage years, hours away from my friends, and somehow I became a pen pal addict. Writing letters was the only way I could communicate with my friends during the week (I'm allergic to telephones), and over the years, the paper built up. For some reason, I've carried it with me through all my moves so far. 

Reading the letters has brought back a lot of memories. Some of these friends I am still close to, and some not so much anymore, and I wonder if they knew how much their letters meant to me. Those were the days when we traded stickers, when we mailed games of hangman back and forth. Each of my friends had her own idiosyncrasies and her own penmanship. We copied each other a lot, I think, but still we managed to find our own styles. Some of my friends wrote to me of books, others of music. One friend I've lost touch with now spoke of "the new band N'Sync" and trying out to be an extra on a WB show like Dawson's Creek. Another friend always listed the current Janette Oke book she was reading (she probably read about twenty). There were little discussions of politics we heard from our parents, excitement over church picnics and sleepovers, requests for prayer. One theme that keeps coming up in some of the letters is Lord of the Rings. I think we were more than a little obsessed with elves and hobbits at the time (and if we're honest, some of us still are).

It seems a little silly to call ten years ago "the good old days", but that's what they feel like now. All of us have moved on, moved around. Many of us have gotten married and have kids now. For the most part, we've given in to the technology of the age, and the letters are fewer and farther apart. We grew up, I guess. All the same, it feels good to go back in time, at least for a moment. To remember all those years of hopes and dreams and fears, and see how many of them came about.

To all my friends of the past, not quite forgotten: know that you have helped me become myself today. You have taught me the truth of faithfulness, of friendship, of love. And as I say goodbye to some of your letters, I am not saying goodbye to you. A few fragile scraps of paper cannot change the past that I hold in my heart.

Be Still and Know

"Be still, and know that I am God." ~ Psalm 46:10

These words keep blowing in an out of my thoughts. When I wake to the green-gold of a new day. When I find myself caught beneath an ocean of sky, perched on a mountain above the sea. When I feel the cloak of darkness fall on the twinkling lights of the distant hillsides. Not always the words, but the meaning of them.

  Be still. 

Rush rush rushing is the life that sweeps on by the crusty shore where I find myself sitting dry-footed. Sometimes I think I'm on the wrong side of the river, and if only I could be brave enough to dive into the tumultuous surge of the current, perhaps I could reach the other shore. Intense is the silence, full of passion unreleased, poetry unspoken. I want to run around in circles screaming my head off, but instead I must be silent. I must be still.

And know.

I am humbled. Undeserving of the life I have (the love of family, the faithfulness of friends, the constancy of music, the companion of the sea), I crave more. I am full, but I think I am empty. What more do I need? I walk away from the confusion; I feel the breeze on my worried face; I wonder at the order of this beautiful world when all I can see is chaos; and I know that He is God.