Missive from Hawaii #2, Me vs. Nature...Nature Wins

Our first free day on the Big Island, we took our rented jeep and headed out to the Waipi'o Valley...a few locals had boasted of it's excellent hiking and waterfalls, and we were eager to check "bathe in tropical waterfall" off our Hawaii to-do list. 

The first half of the drive was glorious...it was hot enough to be a little uncomfortable in the standing air, but with the wind whipping around through the open jeep well, the sunnier the better.  We had both left coats and sneakers behind and replaced them with shorts and t-shirts (a tank-top for me) and we packed enough water for what was sure to be a sweaty but glorious hike.

When you're in Hawaii, you don't tend to do things like check the weather report, or at least, we didn't.  And we didn't think to find out how and if the weather changes from one part of the island to another (hint: it does. A lot.).  And lastly, and this is the most embarrassing, maybe...we didn't think to link in our minds during preparation for the day, rainforest and um...rain.

You sense where I'm going with this?

Cut to, a few miles later, the two of us scrambling around under the vague cover of a Chevron station overhang, replacing the convertible top on the jeep in record time, me shivering in my short-shorts and sandals.  After successfully un-convertiblizing the convertible, we filled ourselves up with hot coffee and the blast of the jeep heater and continued on our way.  I hoped that the rain would pass...after all, this is Hawaii!!

We didn't reach our destination for another hour or two, as a "short-cut" I spotted on the map turned into a treacherous (but beautiful) 4-wheel-drive adventure through the backroads of the Big Island, but when we did finally get there, you guessed it...it was still raining.

There is no way into the Waipi'o Valley unless you are willing (and dressed) to hike down a steep trail onto the black sand beaches below, or, if you're a more experienced off-roader, 4WD vehicles are allowed down an equally steep road.  We decided not to risk it in the rain, and instead I wrapped myself in a beach blanket and, after parking nearby, we walked out to the Waipi'o Valley lookout, to...look out.

In the rain and mist and chill, the valley could not have been more beautiful.  Giant craggy cliffs cut into the ocean below in long fingers.  A single waterfall could be seen, even from a distance, as a ribbon of white water crashing its way down the center of one of the outcroppings, and the water on the beaches below looked rough and wild.  The valley itself is nearly untouched, just a symphony of green upon green, and with the sheen of mist covering it, it looked downright primeval. 

And as we stood there, me wrapped in our store-bought blue and white striped beach blanket, both of us cold and wet and wearing the general surprise of our day, I thought to myself...

Nature knows what the hell it's doing.

And there is not a chance that I, with my singular mind and ten fingers and toes could EVER come close to making something this beautiful. So, why oh why do I (do we) spend so much time trying to control all the forces of my life, when OBVIOUSLY, if left to it's own devices, nature can figure this shit out.  I mean seriously, look at this place!  And I can bet that whatever it comes up with...whatever happens when the natural expression of elements--wind and water and stone and awesomeness (those are my four official elements)--are allowed to just do their thing, you can bet it's going to be a whole heck of a lot better than whatever I can do with my frantic little mind.

I mean, maybe in a moment of inspiration I could mimic it, or at least describe it really, really well, that seems to be what artists are all trying to do, anyhow.  But I might as well be making velvet paintings of cats (metaphorically speaking)...because what's inspiration anyhow if not just a brief window of time where I have gotten out of my own way and let nature take the reigns?

So, even though it was cold and the rain was beginning to soak my poor beach blanket...I didn't want to leave.  I didn't want to get back into my small car and the even smaller space of my thinking mind.  I just wanted to stay there and watch the water pound the black sand and let the reminder pound against the inside of my own chest...the reminder that sounds a little like: for god's sake, let someone else be in charge.  And also like:

Give up, give up, give up...
Let go, let go, let go...

Missive from Hawaii #1

Okay, yes I'm about to do the nerdiest thing ever and use the ocean in a metaphor about consciousness. Oh my god, how many times have I heard that?! I know for sure I have a permanent image of Dr. Wayne Dyer paddling around in the ocean and musing on "presence"... it's been done, people, it's been done for sure.

Maybe it's because I'm in the land of Hawaiian shirts and mai-tais...on an island that actually feels like it was built for the pleasure of it's visitors...but, lots of stuff that would otherwise feel cliche, suddenly feels okay. So. Onward with the ocean metaphors!

Ahem.

On our second day here, wilted from the sun and a little bummed out by our shag-carpeted hotel room (which we later grew to love...not the carpet, but the hotel) we took a recommend for a great beach and took a detour there for an early-afternoon swim. Kua Bay. Down a dirt road, water nearly fluorescent blue, and waves to salivate over...we were stripped down and in the water within minutes of arriving.

The waves close to shore were rough, you could barely keep your footing. But just a bit further out there was a kind of calm, you could ride the smooth humps of the waves before they broke, and this is where we waited, floating, watching for a wave strong enough to catch us and hurl us back to shore.

It was a little scary, this position out by all the boogie boarders. I love the ocean, love waves even more, but am not the strongest swimmer, and can't even use a neti pot because the feeling of water up my nose is so deeply upsetting to me, so the pummeling we got from missed or ill-timed wave catching sort of shook me up.

However, the thrill of a good ride was addictive, so in and out we went, paddling past the break and then being carried (sometimes violently) back in. And, as is the way with these things, the waiting for the waves became the longest and (for me at least) most profound part of the adventure.

It didn't take long to begin learning how to read the waves. This one will be too small, this one will break too late, this one is terrifying so I think I'll skip it oh my god I can't skip it I'm going to have to oh shit...PADDLE!!!!

The wave is coming...and that is the way of things.  The wave has all this force behind it and if I'm not already diving under to let it pass, then I sure as hell better move with it, or I am going to get knocked on my ass. Or worse.

And as I sat there, waiting for waves, trying to read them, scared and thrilled, I thought about the movement of my own life (here it comes...). I thought about the current of progress and of growth--how strong it is, and I thought about how sometimes I see that wave coming and I get frightened. And instead of just going with it, or diving beneath the surface to allow its passage, I just stand there. Unmoving. And in those moments the crest catches me and knocks me under, fills my nose and mouth with sea water and makes me feel like I might drown. And how after too many of those I'm just going to want to sit on the sand...take myself out of the game completely. And then I'm safe, but also far from the thrill of the ride.

The natural majesty of a place like Hawaii, particularly of the ocean, does make a body feel that nature really knows what it's doing. It has a prowess and a purpose that one would be best served to just get out of the way of, and these encounters with the waves just brought that fact home. I am not a wave maker, after all, I am a wave rider. And if I do nothing else in this life other than learn how to tell the difference between a wave I should ride and one I should dive under, and most of all learn to never ever stop and stand in the path of a wave already making its way, then I think will have done something right.