The word Aloha can mean hello, goodbye, or love and affection. When I use Aloha, I use the word to mean love and affection. And indeed Hawaii is the Aloha State, and for good reason. There is such an energy there. I mean, seriously, it is a pulsating vibrant energy. It is so fierce it is soft and it agreed with me completely.
After every amazing journey, I come home refreshed and glad to be back in the comforts of my own bed. With one other exception, (India), this is the first time that I did not look forward to my trip ending and the comforts of my own bed. Bed? Who needs it in HI? I slept outside in the porch/veranda/balcony/roof most times. Slept like a baby. Slept like an angel that hadn't slept in heaven in ages. I slept in my home. In my heart I slept. I breathed, I lived, and I smiled. Every day smiles. Everyday I hugged the air, the oceans, the flora, the fauna, me. Everyday, aloha. Aloha Aloha Aloha.
I always love exploring new places early in the morning. There is something terribly lovely and intimate about a city just waking up. I have done it everywhere I have been, Chicago, New York, Vancouver, Rome, everywhere. Maui was my first island visit. I went to three and had a whirlwind affair for about a fortnight. It was not enough, but then again, I am blessed to have had the time that I did. I only half jokingly told friends that I had somewhat of a religious experience there.
You know, mornings are very special times. Cities in the morning are unwrapped, unmade, real, and somewhat unstructured, and strewn here and there. You are lucky to catch it. It is a real glimpse into the heart of a place. Like the first time you wake up next to someone special and wonderful. The first look you have in the morning when you open your eyes and see a pair of eyes lovingly staring into your own in the early light is always so intimate, so special, so round. You know some autistic kids see colors when they see numbers. I see shapes with feelings sometimes. I am not autistic, but then, let's see, I don't know what it is then. Maybe I am just special. And it always ends in tears.
Cities at night are just as exciting. This is when you see the city at its most lit, its prettiest, all dolled up, rearing to go, to impress, to love, to seduce, at her best. You meet lovers at their best at night. It is intimate, but in a highly very put on way. The exploration of it all, is what I love.
The afternoon is the middle age, the professional, the baby, the grandparent. It is all just so great. Maui was just so wonderful. It was so beautiful; I thought my head and heart would explode at every new bend, new corner, and new beach. Is it a coincidence that religious rites across the world involve water? What is it that we are so fascinated by, these running streams? The vast seas that carry our loves and dreams by and by?
Christians dunk their loved ones and pick a name immortal. Buddhists chant and bless us with the sacred waters, as do Hindus. I am sure Jews and Muslims use water similarly. And native Hawaiians do as well. They are pantheistic. Like me. I believe in it all. The universe. Everything. Nothing. Why limit myself?
I feel reborn. I went swimming with the reef and dolphins. With green sea turtles and sharks. I didn't see any face to face, but I am sure if I had, I would have died the happy phantom. And there is another thing. I thing there such an energy there in Hawaii because it is a life celebrating culture. Not a death avoiding one. We, in the West, here, are a death avoiding culture. And we are, all ironically, so tripped out over dying, that we fail to live. We are miserable. Celebrate, embrace life. Leave the botox and surgical enhancements behind. Live. Grow old. Die. Jump in. Explore. Love. Lose. Love again. Love. And love till it lasts. Till the tears end.
That is something I am grateful to have had in my formative years. I can remember on so many occasions as a curious toddler asking my father inane questions. There was a lake near our home in Mumbai when I was about four or five years old. I remember asking my father the question I am about to share with you because I was always so unsatisfied with his answer. "Appa, what will happen if I jump in and a crocodile is there?" And he would answer, "You would get eaten." "Ok. But I can swim. Could I swim away and escape its bite?" "No. You would get eaten." "But then what would happen?!" "You would die and become part of the lake." "But, aren't you sad?" "Why?" "Because if I fall, and you see me and I swim, and I cannot, you will see me get eaten. Won't you even miss me?"
My father just used to laugh and say, "What do you want me to say?"
I was never satisfied. But I can tell you this; I have never in my life met another human being as consistent as my father. He is just consistent in everything he says, does. In the sense, he doesn't speak glibly. Even with me as a child, he took my questions and inquiries seriously and answered them as earnestly as possible. He didn't change his views for anyone, no matter how it would come across. Did you know that the Chinese word for integrity literally means how well it is used? For example, a pen's integrity lies in its ability to write. If it cannot, say it has run out of ink, then it is useless as a pen and has no integrity whatsoever. What is the integrity of a human being? That we speak act and walk in truth? Yes. That is it. My father has integrity.
When I went to the Grand Canyon with my father a few years back when we did this amazing father/daughter zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance gig cross country with a tundra instead of a bike, I asked the same silly question. "Pops, what will happen if I fall off this cliff?" "You will become part of the canyon."
That answer is the only one that satisfies me today. Studying about coccolithophores reminded me of this organic attitude. They secrete substances that later turn up near sea walls that build up over the centuries, which we use later as chalk. They die and become part of the sea... So when I am swimming and think about sharks, I do not get scared. If they get me, they get me. I get eaten. I die. And then I can go and rest next to my Neptune king and swim happily ever after. I do not fear death. I never have. I do not fear people or things. I am friendly to everyone. I am filled with love and affection. I am not cold and indifferent. I am alive and vibrant. I laugh loudly, heartily, without censure and can brighten up any room. This attitude is prevalent in Hawaii. I was happy to have been "home" even for a little while. I was happy to find my spirit exactly where I left it last, and this time, I am not leaving it behind for anything, or anyone. Aloha.
After every amazing journey, I come home refreshed and glad to be back in the comforts of my own bed. With one other exception, (India), this is the first time that I did not look forward to my trip ending and the comforts of my own bed. Bed? Who needs it in HI? I slept outside in the porch/veranda/balcony/roof most times. Slept like a baby. Slept like an angel that hadn't slept in heaven in ages. I slept in my home. In my heart I slept. I breathed, I lived, and I smiled. Every day smiles. Everyday I hugged the air, the oceans, the flora, the fauna, me. Everyday, aloha. Aloha Aloha Aloha.
I always love exploring new places early in the morning. There is something terribly lovely and intimate about a city just waking up. I have done it everywhere I have been, Chicago, New York, Vancouver, Rome, everywhere. Maui was my first island visit. I went to three and had a whirlwind affair for about a fortnight. It was not enough, but then again, I am blessed to have had the time that I did. I only half jokingly told friends that I had somewhat of a religious experience there.
You know, mornings are very special times. Cities in the morning are unwrapped, unmade, real, and somewhat unstructured, and strewn here and there. You are lucky to catch it. It is a real glimpse into the heart of a place. Like the first time you wake up next to someone special and wonderful. The first look you have in the morning when you open your eyes and see a pair of eyes lovingly staring into your own in the early light is always so intimate, so special, so round. You know some autistic kids see colors when they see numbers. I see shapes with feelings sometimes. I am not autistic, but then, let's see, I don't know what it is then. Maybe I am just special. And it always ends in tears.
Cities at night are just as exciting. This is when you see the city at its most lit, its prettiest, all dolled up, rearing to go, to impress, to love, to seduce, at her best. You meet lovers at their best at night. It is intimate, but in a highly very put on way. The exploration of it all, is what I love.
The afternoon is the middle age, the professional, the baby, the grandparent. It is all just so great. Maui was just so wonderful. It was so beautiful; I thought my head and heart would explode at every new bend, new corner, and new beach. Is it a coincidence that religious rites across the world involve water? What is it that we are so fascinated by, these running streams? The vast seas that carry our loves and dreams by and by?
Christians dunk their loved ones and pick a name immortal. Buddhists chant and bless us with the sacred waters, as do Hindus. I am sure Jews and Muslims use water similarly. And native Hawaiians do as well. They are pantheistic. Like me. I believe in it all. The universe. Everything. Nothing. Why limit myself?
I feel reborn. I went swimming with the reef and dolphins. With green sea turtles and sharks. I didn't see any face to face, but I am sure if I had, I would have died the happy phantom. And there is another thing. I thing there such an energy there in Hawaii because it is a life celebrating culture. Not a death avoiding one. We, in the West, here, are a death avoiding culture. And we are, all ironically, so tripped out over dying, that we fail to live. We are miserable. Celebrate, embrace life. Leave the botox and surgical enhancements behind. Live. Grow old. Die. Jump in. Explore. Love. Lose. Love again. Love. And love till it lasts. Till the tears end.
That is something I am grateful to have had in my formative years. I can remember on so many occasions as a curious toddler asking my father inane questions. There was a lake near our home in Mumbai when I was about four or five years old. I remember asking my father the question I am about to share with you because I was always so unsatisfied with his answer. "Appa, what will happen if I jump in and a crocodile is there?" And he would answer, "You would get eaten." "Ok. But I can swim. Could I swim away and escape its bite?" "No. You would get eaten." "But then what would happen?!" "You would die and become part of the lake." "But, aren't you sad?" "Why?" "Because if I fall, and you see me and I swim, and I cannot, you will see me get eaten. Won't you even miss me?"
My father just used to laugh and say, "What do you want me to say?"
I was never satisfied. But I can tell you this; I have never in my life met another human being as consistent as my father. He is just consistent in everything he says, does. In the sense, he doesn't speak glibly. Even with me as a child, he took my questions and inquiries seriously and answered them as earnestly as possible. He didn't change his views for anyone, no matter how it would come across. Did you know that the Chinese word for integrity literally means how well it is used? For example, a pen's integrity lies in its ability to write. If it cannot, say it has run out of ink, then it is useless as a pen and has no integrity whatsoever. What is the integrity of a human being? That we speak act and walk in truth? Yes. That is it. My father has integrity.
When I went to the Grand Canyon with my father a few years back when we did this amazing father/daughter zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance gig cross country with a tundra instead of a bike, I asked the same silly question. "Pops, what will happen if I fall off this cliff?" "You will become part of the canyon."
That answer is the only one that satisfies me today. Studying about coccolithophores reminded me of this organic attitude. They secrete substances that later turn up near sea walls that build up over the centuries, which we use later as chalk. They die and become part of the sea... So when I am swimming and think about sharks, I do not get scared. If they get me, they get me. I get eaten. I die. And then I can go and rest next to my Neptune king and swim happily ever after. I do not fear death. I never have. I do not fear people or things. I am friendly to everyone. I am filled with love and affection. I am not cold and indifferent. I am alive and vibrant. I laugh loudly, heartily, without censure and can brighten up any room. This attitude is prevalent in Hawaii. I was happy to have been "home" even for a little while. I was happy to find my spirit exactly where I left it last, and this time, I am not leaving it behind for anything, or anyone. Aloha.
| < on a year | Civilisation and its Discount Tents > |
