THE ROAD HOME

Mt. Shasta
San Luis Obispo, CA
(Photo courtesy of Ryan)


(Dedicated to my mother, Marion, 
on the occasion of her 78th birthday--
April 9, 2011.  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!)

As a young child, did you ever have an opportunity to ride in the back of a pickup truck and watch something huge--like a mountain in the backdrop--as your vehicle proceeded along the highway away from that object?

I don't have the scientific term for it, but I trust my senses and intuitively knew--even as a little boy--that there was some kind of optical illusion going on.  

By this, I mean I could easily see the things on the side of the highway getting smaller as the truck rambled on.  But the huge mountain in the distance seemed to incredulously grow larger the further away we traveled.  This phenomenon may have something to do with one's visual perception being simultaneously assigned multiple tasks--for example, tracking the large mountain on one level while noticing the objects passing by and looking smaller on another level.  And then, of course, there's also the neutral sky above that one notices but ironically neglects.  

For some reason, it came to mind just now that I never did talk about this phenomenon as a young child.  I waited 58 years to discuss it now in this blog.

Perhaps there's a reason for this.

But, first, let's reverse the direction of our vehicle.

Imagine that you're in the front seat now and that the huge mountain is in front of you--miles and miles away.  This visual works best when you're traveling in a desert or flatland because then the mountain really stands out.  Case in point--the above photo.

Here, then, is the opposite visual effect.  Things in the near and intermediate distance come rushing at you and appear larger.  But the huge mountain in the distance seems to get smaller or at least remains the same size even though your brain is cognizant that you're headed straight towards it.

As a youngster, I always neglected to track where both phenomena mentioned above lost that optical illusion.  

But as a middle-aged writer, I am taking the liberty of remembering and making an observation or two as I wax poetic or otherwise.

The title of this blog--HAWAIIAN ODYSSEUS--suggests a journey homeward.  

For me, the journey is three-tiered.

HOME OF ORIGIN:  First, there is the journey back to my youth.  Only in discovering unlocked treasure chests and understanding the historical and genealogical lessons gleaned but perhaps not resolved at the time can one move forward with increased awareness, wisdom, compassion, and grace.  

This, then, is the phenomenon of riding in the back of the pickup truck.  Our past becomes increasingly important, or larger, the faster we move through the present and into the future.

NUCLEAR HOME:  For me, social and economic circumstances made it necessary for me to be away from my home and family in one part of the state and be relocated in another.  The very writing of this blog was a vehicle (no pun intended) for me to cope with tremendous angst, loneliness, and sadness about the severe psychological, emotional, physical, and spiritual struggles I faced in my situational exile from home.  Only by sitting in the back of the truck and making sense of the significance of my past was I able to find the strength and courage to persevere in the present.  

Every adventure, crisis, and obstacle were surmountable only because I kept my eye on the mountain in front of me...the one that seemingly became smaller the closer I got to it.  I could easily have become discouraged, but the good Lord filled me abundantly when I was at my weakest, and I am eternally thankful.  The mountain ahead of me is the reunion with my wife and the readjustment to the nuclear home.  My children are adults and, thankfully, off to a very successful start as they travel on their respective highways through life.  

I made the huge decision this past week to return home about two months from now.  It is a decision that both excites and scares me.  Once again, I find myself in the front seat of that proverbial pickup truck and wondering why that mountain seems to get smaller the closer I get to it.

This is no time to let anything or anyone discourage me.  I AM GOING HOME!

My daughter graduates from high school in the early part of June.  Soon after, she will be traveling to Spain to attend summer classes.

My son graduates with a dual degree in mechanical engineering and business management from graduate school in central California.  I will be traveling there with my wife and daughter, and the prospect of precious time with family and celebration during those four days makes me very happy.

Just days later, I will join some of my siblings, extended family, and relatives in Oregon for a family reunion.  

I have not seen my father, who presently lives in Maryland with his wife, for 33 years.  This wonderful and long-anticipated event would be a culmination of both phenomena cited above--at once, the mountain behind gets bigger the further I travel from it, and the mountain ahead gets smaller the closer I get to it.

HEAVENLY HOME:  Recent events in both our collective and individual lives, dear reader, only serve to provide further evidence that this world is getting older and fraught with more and more ailments.  Prior to this generation, we humans have not been the best stewards of this world.  And so we are confronted with severe consequences.

Increasing lawlessness matches the rapid increase of mankind's knowledge.  We may all do well to heed the lesson of the Tower of Babel.  Politics and judicial decisions at the highest level suggest that man has grown too big for his britches.  The spiritual reverence our country once had for the Creator has fallen by the wayside, and--alas!--we will pay dearly for it.

It is both the mountain that grows larger the more we travel away from it and smaller the more we struggle to get back to it.  

In my humble opinion, it is God growing bigger in His desire to redeem us when we grow apart from Him.  As we stumble back to our feet and turn away from our foolish choices; as we hunger to make it back home...He appears to grow smaller, but it is only His way of saying, "Okay, you've made the choice to return home.  Show Me with all your might how much you desire to get back to My front porch.  Show Me just how hungry and desperate you are...I will be waiting with a hot bath and some delicious lentil soup for you."

I plan to be on that front porch with my ukulele and singing Tropical Rainbow*.


Will you join me?




*http://hawaiianodysseus.blogspot.com/2010/01/tropical-rainbow.html

                                                

ALOHA OE, GIRLIE!

Girlie (1995 - 2011)
(Photo courtesy of Silas Kaumakahia)

She was of no pedigree lineage.  Instead, she could have been the  poster canine for POI DOG OF THE YEAR.

But what she lacked in purity of heritage, she more than excelled  in purity of heart.

She was the faithful companion of my brother, Charlie, for thirteen years.

Charlie estimates her age at death at fifteen years.  That's the equivalent of one hundred and five human years.

At the end, she could barely move anywhere outside of her one square yard of living area.

Girlie was stricken with severe arthritis.  She was also blind.

When my wife, adult children, and I visited our Kauai family in late December of 2010, we remember seeing Girlie walking stiffly in tight circles on or near her resting space just outside of the front entrance to my sister and brother-in-law's home.

Not unlike a human elder finding comfort in ever-decreasing perimeters, Girlie was content to live in her tiny and insignificant space.

But in my brother's heart, she possessed and traveled through prime real estate that had no boundaries.

On the evening of Girlie's death, Charlie looked through old pictures and watched videos of his dear, departed friend.  He thought it would bring him comfort.  Instead, he was stricken with anguish and sadness.

In Isaiah 11:6, we read:

The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.

Charlie can find solace in knowing that there will be animals in heaven.


Someday, when he stands at the threshold of heaven, it's reassuring to know that Girlie will be there to greet him.

DARE TO STAND ALONE!

View from Princeville at Hanalei

There are times when one will flow with the crowd.  

Social conformity, after all, is a requisite for a civilized and progressive nation.

There are times, however, when one must stand apart from the majority.  Times when one must draw a definitive line in the sand and declare,  "I disagree with what you're doing.  I choose something better for myself."

It's a matter of principle.  A matter of character.  A matter of courage.

It could also be the one choice that makes a significant difference.

Case in point:  My brother, Charlie (aka Silas Kaumakahia Aqui).

Several months ago, Charlie made the tough but very sound decision to quit smoking and drinking.

He didn't pussyfoot around with patches or programs or a slow and steady weaning from the nicotine and alcohol.

He just made up his mind to quit.  And he quit.  For good.

You see, we have a brother who, without warning, collapsed as a result of a brain aneurysm.  A lifestyle of poor choices--yes, including nicotine and alcohol.  Lots of both.  Poisons that are seductively alluring, overpowering, and controlling.

Thankfully, our brother survived and is currently traveling the challenging and sometimes rocky road of recovery.

Charlie quit smoking and drinking as a result of what had happened to our brother.  As the addictive poisons gradually left his body, he became reacquainted with the inherent beauty of a lifestyle that is totally void of mind-numbing chemicals.

It was as if his life made a quantum leap from being a film noir movie to living like a blu-ray DVD.

His food tasted better.  His passion for the laid back island way of living was renewed.  His love for all things Hawaiiana, especially his free diving and fishing for reef inhabitants, like the octopus (please see previous blogs, using octopus as a key search word), was enhanced tenfold.

Charlie rediscovered his appetite for life itself.

His old drinking buddies, gathered at a favorite spot on the beach, would see Charlie approaching...no longer sporting a 6-pack in each hand but, rather, a water bottle.  Charlie had now chosen to imbibe on artesian liquids rather than products of fermentation.

And the wonderful thing about friends is that none of them made fun of him.  They totally respected his choice.

Meanwhile, our brother neglected to follow his doctor's orders and re-immersed himself in the old, familiar lifestyle of smoking and drinking.  Knowing full well that he was endangering his very life and jeopardizing his relationships with loved ones, he coped with life's stressors by succumbing to toxins which were at once very familiar and very dangerous.

Long story short, he got into trouble.  Health-wise and legally.  

Fortunately, our brother was given the opportunity to enter into a rehabilitative program.  With tremendous support from his beloved wife and adult children as well as his family of origin, he committed himself 100% to the rigorous program regimen.

Just recently, he graduated from the program and thus earned the privilege of returning home.  His freedom, albeit conditional until he can get final clearance from the presiding judge in his case, is something he does not take for granted.  

I know without a doubt that our brother will make it.

Which brings this post full circle back to Charlie.  

Because Charlie took the strong stance to give up smoking and drinking, and--more importantly--because he regained the pre-Fall gift of clear, levelheaded thinking and decision making, he was and continues to be our brother's go-to guy, mentor, and chief support person. 

Those of us who have experienced similar situations know very well how tenuous and challenging a transitional period can be.  Charlie's role in our brother's life is pivotal.  

It's about the beautiful yin/yang of recovery--when one is weak, the other can be strong.  Brother carrying brother until both can stand on their own two feet.

Or walk.

Or even run again!

As Charlie succinctly called it in a recent phone conversation I had with him--"Hey, maybe it was meant to be, yeah?"

There is no doubt in my mind that the Lord had had His hand in all of this.  In spite of our foolish and often bullheaded choices that end up hurting our loved ones and ourselves, God has a wonderful way of turning bad into good.

So, Charlie, there was no maybe about it.  There was definite divine intervention.  And it was allowed to be because both of my brothers began making better choices.

My hat's off to my brothers.  They each in their own individual way inspire me.

I love my family of origin.

MORNING MUSINGS

Coconut Plantation, Island of Kauai
(Photo courtesy of Ryan)

It is another schizophrenic morning in downtown Seattle.  


The nagging misty rain, like a stubborn shower spray, has temporarily stopped.  The wind has picked up, as evidenced by Old Glory and the emerald green Washington state flag fluttering in the breeze on the facade of a medium tall building kitty corner from the Starbucks at 4th and Seneca that I'm presently sitting in, sipping on a lukewarm venti drip.

I miss Kauai, and I miss my family of origin, so very, very much.

Facebook provides me with a respite from this agonizing homesickness.  My son has posted the dozens of beautiful photographs he took when our family went on vacation last month.  I rush to find an image that will grace my work-in-progress blog.


The coconut plantation has been there in Waipouli--halfway between Kapaa and Wailua--for as long as I can remember.  


Seems to me these statuesque vanguards were surrounded by pasture land when I was a little boy (five decades ago).


Today, it is bordered by hotels.


No matter.  I would still prefer to be in the midst of those trees right now instead of these Northwest skyscrapers.


I would love to walk barefoot and feel the combination of dirt and sand squishing through my toes. Here in downtown Seattle, I would never dare walk barefoot.


So many changes...and yet these majestic palm trees still remain. 


Giant stilts.  Prepared, as it were, for the next great tsunami to hit.  


What's the lesson in it for me?


Adapt.


Establish my roots.


Whenever necessary, bend a little.


Weather anything and everything...come what may...and know that I will remain standing.


Even in the meteorological schizophrenia of Seattle.