In This, The Perfect Temporary

If you find perfect happiness, but it's temporary, what do you do with it? Do you hold tight and never let go? Well then, I suppose you turn into a bitter and nasty person who is trying to hold clouds. Do you pretend it never happened? No, because I think then you might settle for less than you deserve. Do you regret it, either because you think it'll never happen again or because you couldn't hold onto it? That can't possibly be right. So what then? What is to be done with temporary perfect happiness? They say that all joy is fleeting. Is it? Or do you accept that temporary perfection for what it is or was and then seek a different, perfect happiness? If joy is fleeting, should we not chase after it? And once we catch one joy, set it free and seek another?

When I shut my eyes and focus, it's like I can look beyond the inside of my eyelids. Through something. There are galaxies and all the Universe before my eyes. I can see the star dust of the Milky Way tracing its way across the emptiness. The dark is true dark, black and empty. Uncreated light. And the stars burn in the inbetween. Clustering together to make the most beautiful sky that could ever be imagined. I used to have nightmares, but I found my peace. And ever since, there have been stars in the darkness that comes with closed eyes.

I shut my eyes and sleep comes easily. There is some kind of haze. A fog I seem to be walking through when suddenly I'm on a cobblestone walkway across from the plaza and the sky is bluer still than any I've ever seen. The clouds float lazily about, heavy and perfectly white, perfectly outlined. As if they were drawn into the sky. The person holding my right hand is perfect in his 7 jeans and green vneck tee. I hug him tightly, feeling him against me. There is a heart beat and breath beneath his chest. I want to cry, but he lifts my head. Green eyes to rival my own. His smile is deeply etched into his face and my heart. He squeezes my hand and links my arm as we cross the street to the plaza. There are balloons of green and white, tied to each black bench and lamp post in the courtyard of the plaza. The plants are as green as crayon and the fountain sparkles in the way that water can only sparkle at high altitudes. Lillies, sunflowers, green hydrangeas. Flowers upon every balloon bouquet and petals littering the ground. The sun shines down on the scene, making it the perfect surreal.

Every face that I love and have ever loved greets me and I'm in white. The dress is short with green trim and the flowers tucked neatly into my hair make me feel a little tippy. I'm nervous and I cling to the arm of the man I need to be there. I can feel the muscles in his arm as he moves and I give quick thanks to God that I have him there with me. I'm having trouble putting one bare foot in front of the other when someone takes my left hand. He shakes dark auburn red hair out of his face and smiles at me. A black surfer tee with green letters and white board shorts. I touch the side of his face, I needed him here with me. I can feel the stubble on his chin and I close my eyes. He takes my other arm and we three continue towards the center of the plaza. There is a tear on my cheek. I've needed them here, walking beside me.

Someone has a llama and it's normal rainbow incan vest is replaced by an emerald one. There are a little blonde girl and young boy holding it still with their parents beside them. I laugh. All my favorite men are grinning broadly at me and the shortest gives me a thumbs up which makes me laugh again. My childhood friends in pretty summer dresses, light. We always knew I'd be the last. There are little kids running about in and out of the crowd, but no one seems to mind. Cousins, nieces, nephews, the triplets, children of my dearest friends. Each relative and friend beaming at me more than the next. My grandparents are laughing, even my grandpa Chris. My grandma Nona laughs as a child passes her. She smiles at me from the front of the crowd and says "You're so beautiful, baby." I kiss her on both cheeks and I take a deep breath of her. Soaking up every second I have. My Godparents are standing with my mother, holding her shoulders and her hand. They are all so proud of me. As I turn, there are faces I don't recognize but they are joyful and so I return their smiles. Everyone is so brightly dressed., radiant. I take a picture with my mind. I never want to forget this day.

At the edge of the fountain in the center of the plaza is someone I can't place. My brothers are standing just left. Z in slacks and a black tee shirt. A in light jeans and a black, white, and green plaid woven. He makes a face at me which makes me laugh again. The man beside them is not wearing a tux but is barefoot in dark jeans and a white woven with a vest. I never thought about it before, but I like that he's not wearing a tux. My daddy and Uncles are playing guitars and ukeleles, my cousin singing. Cinderella, Butterfly Kisses, Hawaiian music. There is a beautiful girl in a shade of green that matches her eyes to the right. She looks like a princess and smiles at me with a bunch of flowers gathered up in her hands. There's a tall dark man in black slacks and a white woven with a green scarf next to her. A kiss on each cheek and my hands are left free as one man goes to my right and the other to my left. I'm afraid to let them go, but their looks reassure my fast beating heart.

I smile at a man holding a beaten and overbook marked bible. I am holding the hands of the man in front of me and he mouths that he loves me. I have a strong feeling that I love him too and I blush. I search his face, trying to determine descriptive words for what he looks like, but I can't find any. I see him, but I can't seem to see anything physical. Just goodness, he is good. There are beautiful words being poured out and forming a new reality. Three beautiful little boys hand us each of the rings, they are intricate yet simple. And I am surprised at how fast my heart is racing. I can already see our life together. No permanent home, but hundreds of perfect temporaries all over the world as we are called to them. Heated arguments solved by long talks under cool stars. Lazy afternoons with books and a record player, fast days of museum hopping and old school photoshoots. Friends, family, and holidays. Broke, exhausted, and content. Awkward moments and laughter. Beautiful children, a dog, a sloth, and full passports.

We kiss and it's like the first time. There are no butterflies, but rather a settled feeling. As if it could go on forever, but I laugh through the kiss as the hollering begins. Flower petals are in the air and I close my eyes for a moment, just soaking up the joyful noise of it all. I smile at my grandmother and then at the two men who walked me to this fountain. Part of me wants to run to them, to hold them and feel them around me. But instead I squeeze the hand of the man without a tux. He is my future, they are my past. My wonderful, beautiful past. I know that I cannot keep them. They are only here in this, the perfect temporary.

I close my eyes and open them to dim fairylights and a predawn sky. I stretch beneath my heavy winter blankets and close my eyes to see them again, drifting from my dreams back to my memories. It isn't painful to watch them go. They will be with me again, as they are with me always. I reach out, waving farwell, wishing them a safe journey back to wherever they are. My eyes open and I lie looking at my ceiling, listening to the music of my alarm. I remember the man without a tuxedo and I smile, wondering if he dreams of me too. In his own perfect temporary...

**October 13th 2012
Reading this now, I am astonished at how well I pictured my future life and future husband. The wedding was always an impossibility, but my image of my future is now a beautiful reality. This dream was one of intense joy and overwhelming sorrow, even now. But I am glad to have been so sure that these things would come to me, and they have.

Load It, Cock It, And Pull It

I wrote this awhile back rather... but I have no desire to write currently so here it is, dearling.



I have the desire to brush my teeth, but also the desire to drink large quantities of orange juice. These things do not coincide well...

Why do I believe in God.

It's the loaded question you've all been waiting for. I do believe that this blog calls for bullets ((the paragraphical kind, not the ammunition related kind)), so as there is no confusion. I'll go ahead and start with this sentiment; You don't have to believe the things that I do, but I do ask that you respect my opinions. I have seen a lot of this world, experienced a plethera of things, and have come to my own conclusions. I have not always believed the things I believe now and have come to my level of theology of my own searching, discovery, interpretation, and understanding. I ask not that you concur with every statement made, disagreement is nothing but encourage in this arena. But I do request that you respect my beliefs as I would respect any statement of faith you made. I do not say these things lightly and great thought has gone into them, so take as much thought if or when you respond. I will throw it out there that these are not complete arguments because, honestly? Each paragraph could be an entire essay complete with quotes and bibliography. But I'm reaching for simple here, Kidds, so stay with me.

Firstly and foremost, I believe in God because I believe humans have intrinsic worth. I believe that at our cores, we are valuable. I believe that each of us have purpose. That we all have our part to play in this life, in this world. To not believe in a god or creator would be to believe that humanity is random chance. And if we are merely random chance? We have no self value or purpose. Leading into...

Secondly, without purpose and worth? There is no morality. If no god exists, then human "morality" can be determined on an individual level and "evil" does not exist. When someone commits mass genocide or rapes and kills children, there is no responsibility because there is no morality. They do it because they feel that it is right.

[Sidenote: It can be noted that often throughout history, various sides committing atrocious crimes have claimed to have a god on their side. I want to make it very clear that I am not condoning this. Anyone can attempt to justify their actions by throwing the word "god" in the mix. This does not mean that any god had anything to do with their actions.]

Thirdly, without a creator or intelligent design? We are alive for no purpose but to complete the circle of life and end up as lunch for Simba. But if we are alive for no purpose, why are we aware we are alive at all? How could be possibly be aware of ourselves and not have purpose?

Those are the top three reasons I believe in God. So then, the logical next question is: Why the god of Christianity? Hmm, well you could argue that it is the god I grew up with. But I've researched Religion and travelled extensively, so perhaps not. You could argue it's because I'm an American and a large percentage of Americans believe in some form of god. Except, I've never identified as an American but rather as a Native Hawaiian, a nation which was basically gang raped by the United States and only legally made a part of the USA after the guilt trip of Pearl Harbor. A nation with a rich pagan mythology, so again - perhaps not. Then maybe it's because my parents believe in the Christian God? I rebelled against my parents from ages 12 to 20 and then proceeded to travel the world, so they never really had a whole lot of say in my belief system. Perhaps. Not. Try again...

Why the God of Christianity?

Because the Bible was written over the course of 1500 years by hundreds of different authors who all believed in the same things.

Because Jesus fufilled over 300 prophecies and is the only historical figure to appear in more than one Holy Book.

Because the Bible contextually and historically makes sense. Especially if you consider that it is only part of all that has been written and while it is the Word of God, it was written by man.

Because the Jesus kidd preached Love rather than judgement and that is the kind of thing I can get behind.

Because ((originally)) Followers of The Way were persecuted for doing things like loving on their neighbors and hanging out with the poor and being peaceful people.

Because it isn't about just living to die or even about living to go to Heaven.

Because through God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit and the Bible I can see purpose and worth and reason for humanity like I only glimpse in other belief systems. And those 3 things are the reason I believe in a higher power at all.

It's not simple, it's complicated. God is very complicated. As he should be. We try to make Him comprehensible and we can't. It just isn't going to happen. We will never fully understand the mysteries of God and the Universe, and even if we could? Seriously, how fucking boring would life be? And, of course, there are all the arguments... You can argue "If there was God, why does He let bad things happen?" But I think I should ask yourself why you and I let them happen before you ask God. And then there is the whole Bible ((specifically the Old Testament)) being violent etc etc, for which I have a one word answer: Context. For further information, please seek a coffee date with your faithful blogger friend Malia. Because that is a whole other slur of blogs. Then there are the one liners like how God hates gays and abortion and women. Dude, shut the front door with that. CONTEXT. I swear if I get any one liner responses from all you intelligent folk who read my blog? I will personally slap you across your impertenant little face with a Holy Bible and Jesus will laugh at you from his cloud. True story.

The truth of the matter is, this is just what I believe. But you know what? Even if you disagree, even if you believe something totally different than me? I'll still love you. Because my beliefs allow for that. And I am just that annoying.

Peace Be.

Heaven Is Coming Down

We are, not there yet.

As of yesterday, it is entirely possible that my best friend is the best person I know. Which just furthers my point, God does not use perfect people to do good things. To do great things. He uses the misfits, the fuckups for Christ ((I say that in the most loving way possible, she is my best friend, afterall)). My best friend has been through, experienced some of the worst this world has to offer. She has struggled and collapsed and gotten up again. Sometimes worse for the wear, but this time better for it. And now? I'm jealous of what a good person she is. Jealous of her opportunities and the love she is sharing with the rest of the world. Way to call me out, bessfrienn. I won't give you all the details, it's her story to share and I wouldn't do it justice. But it has decided to make me do featurettes. I'm going to feature friends and family writing in this little blog of mine. And my best friend, is up first.

Before I begin my next paragraph, I realize I must make a distinction. I can't call myself a Christian. Not because I don't believe Christ was the Son of God ((that is a debate for another time, my loves)). But rather due to the fact that I'm not a "little Christ." Original, and arguably the best, followers of Jesus never called themselves Christians but Followers of The Way. I would love to be a little Christ, an imitation of the Son of God, but I'm not. I am a mere Follower of His Way, I cannot attest to being anything more than that. That would make me a liar and, as we all know, liars go straight to Hell ((but, of course, so do those who judge others. So if you just condemned me for being a liar? You're screwed too)). Moving along...

A very popular Christian belief is that we must spread salvation to the rest of the world. That we must cleanse it of it's paganistic ways and hand life jackets out to all those on the sinking ship we call Humanity. That life vest appears, obviously, in the form of a Bible with a rather guilting Jesus nailed to the cross pictured in detail on the cover. You know, railway nails through his wrists, blood dripping, and a cry of anguish on his lips? Now, don't get me wrong. Jesus definitely died for your sins and you definitely didn't deserve it, you little heathen. But, uhm, isn't that jumping to conclusions a little fast? What was this "Good News" Jesus wanted us to spread anyway? Was it truthfully that he died on a cross for all of us delinquents? Because I seem to recall Jesus spreading the Gospel, the Good News... wait for it... BEFORE he was dead.

I know, scandalous.

So, Good News... something about the poor and the broken, something about the sick and disabled, something about the depraved and the hurting? It's about love, not life vests. We were saved by grace, but commissioned to go out into the world and spread love.

"Dear friends, do you think you'll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it? For instance, you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, "Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!" and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup - where does that get you? Isn't it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?"

James also goes on to affirm that works without faith is also hot air, but the point is that they go hand in hand. You cannot throw people a life vest of words and salvation without first showing them the love that you have already and undeservingly recieved. I am tired of "saving people" being the main goal, when it was never one of the goals at all. Jesus saves - you? Do not. That is too big of a responsibility for you or me or any of us to handle. We cannot be each others saviors, we will drown that way. What we can do is love one another. We can show grace and love to all those whose paths cross ours and perhaps have the opportunity to share our beliefs, but the actual saving will never come from us. So you, little Christs, live better. Because Jesus didn't walk around demanding people claim His God as theirs, he just healed them and sent them on their way. He loved them and left them to decide on their own what was real for them. Do not claim to be capable of anything more, because you would be wrong and most certainly not an imitator of Christ.

I lecture not to those who do not believe as I do, because my God does not lecture to those who do not believe. For you, I can only hope and pray that you find the same love and peace that I have found in an unconditional and unchanging God. I can tell you what I believe and why, I can argue logistics, I can disagree with you and you with me. But I lecture to those who claim to walk the path of Christ, because Jesus lectured to them. It is upsetting to me that the whole "Turn or Burn" has become so very popular in our Nation of bubblegum belief when in reality? The only people Jesus ever said that to, were religious scholars. Ouch...

This is a lot of ((incomplete)) theology, sorry about that. Feel free to bounce it off me in email or cellphone or person. ESPECIALLY IF YOU DISAGREE. Because, damnit, I need some good challenges. I joke you not, Kidds, I am going to school to become some kind of pastor. You're all terrified, I know ((who wants to make bets that I will say "douchebag" the first time I'm in front of a crowd?)). And truthfully, I am not really sure about this path. But I do know that I am tired of uptight douchebags getting all the say on Sunday mornings without a real rebuttal in the rest of the world. If you delve into the "Christian world," you see a lot of arguments on both side, but not in the everyday world. It's kind of like how you only ever hear about Muslim terrorists and so you assume all Muslims are terrorists ((ps, they aren't. And if you legitimately thought/think that, you need a serious reality check)), most people only ever hear about Christian assholes and so they assume all Christians are assholes. Well, I'm refutting the name Christian and I am claiming El Bible as Truth and seeing what the world does with me. We'll see, I suppose...

Peace be, kidds.

Just + Hope

Danger, High Voltage Human. My beanie is inside out and my peacoat is cooler than Mister James Dean himself. Don't save me. This one is an adventurer, not a damsel. I'll whisper a secret in your hair, but you'll have no idea what I mean. That's alright, dahling, I'll say it again tomorrow. I'll say it again tomorrow. Paint with brushes that belonged to a real artist and photograph real life. No editing. Your photoshop means nothing to me and I do not understand the word digital. Is morality individual? No, I don't think so. But I don't have the right to judge you if you believe differently, though I might tell you I think you're wrong. Don't speak of that which you don't understand, but how am I to understand if I never speak of it? Do you knot no me? God is moving in your bloodstream, where the cross beats aren't so slow.

Don't tell me "No" when you didn't hear the question. I've gone further towards the end of the world than you'll ever voyage. I've seen the inky black of darkness and I've witnessed unadulterated light. It's more painful than you'd think. More wonderful than you could imagine. Don't lecture me on suffering when the word comes from a language that has never graced your lips, your ears, your heart. There is something that beats within me. Boom. Boom. Pause for a moment and begin again. And what if I were to spell it with an E? Would you still believe these words I have written? Flat and tied, the grass burns easiest when it's dry. I'll play you on repeat until I'm tired and then I will drift silently into rem. Not a word on my lips in a language you know. Je ne parle pour toi. Parlo per qualcosa pui. No creo como tu. But believe me by my actions. I just want to love on people. I am wonderfully and fearfully made. I will not waste that. This life is not about getting to someplace better. But making this place better. Heaven will descend upon us and all will be right. We must work to paint the walls of this sinking ship because, in the end, your life vest isn't enough.

I'll pack a lunch and run for days. I'll see the other end of this universe and no corner of the world will be unknown to me. Not because I believe I have all the answers, but because I know that I do not. It is above, it is beyond me. Just look at the stars! How could you ever believe that you were random chance? Science merely shows me what a wonderful design we were all given. At a cellular level we are just artwork. We were created to create. To worship by putting things back together. To make this world a better place. I'll dance for no reason and I will appreciate each star. We gave them all names, by the grace of God. And the more I learn of the Universe, the more I believe without a doubt at all. To be random would be to be without purpose, to be without function. To merely exist without ever living. Life would mean nothing and morality would not exist. But you are aware, are you not?

Violent sketch upon empty page. Soup of nothing into which there is now Word. I don't know what it means, but I'm pretty sure it's everything. Books, the written word, they remind me of hope. Whether by illustration of what life is, or what it is not. I have great hope in who we are at our cores. Spin me in circles on this merry-go-round until I fall into sweet abyss of wonder. I am full and I could take on more. The cup will overflow and I will be grateful, though perhaps not always. We face a starvation here that will not be quenched by food or drink or knowledge. Break my heart for what breaks your. Imua, imua, imua. I will never stop moving. I'm too much to handle, not enough to suffice, but there is one who loves me and never stops. There is nothing I could ever do to break the bond of unconditional. Have you heard the word? Can you hear the word? Do you know the word?

Iorana. Welcome to existence. I'll break it down via mandolin. Piano strikes a string and you'll hear it softly beneath the surface of your subconscious. I know this thorn well, I pulled it from my vein not but an hour ago. Time does not exist in this, the realm of Truth. Love is only one thing, it may reveal itself in a way you would never expect. Break break break down. Where have you been all this time? The shore makes me look small and my feet are in the sand. Wash over me and teach me something new. I can't promise I'll remember, but you'll probably make a mark. Coral under my toes, salt on my skin, wind whipping steadily by. I'll keep you here in my pocket, I promise. But that's not what you asked of me, is it? I'm not sure. I can't seem to want to remember. Isn't that what it means, can't you tell me what it all means? There it is. Love love love. Repeat. Love love love. Repeat. I won't stop, can't stop. Breathe heartbreak, exhale hope. Drink down the problems of this world and sigh out your wonder, amazement, and joy. I won't stop, can't stop. Shake me head and demand more. Not of you, of me! What might I do to to better bring you joy? "And what you did for the least of these, you did for me" you say again. I know, I have always known.

Like The P In Philosophy

And so twothousandeleven begins. One year, one word. New endings, new beginnings. There is a lot I could say about the year that has passed. All the things, places, people I miss - or perhaps don't. It appears my favorite Dr Seuss book has been truer to my life than anything else. And Oh! The Places I've Been. There is magic in the things you don't expect. It captures and enraptures you. Wrapping you in... well, find your own magic. And yes, I believe in magic. It might not be your typical black swamp voodoo, but I believe in the kind of magic we create in ourselves, through our actions, by ((wait for the scandal)) God. I can already hear the sacrelige calls, Jesus ain't magic! Dude, Jesus was totally magic. Divine is just another word for magical. But not all magic is divine, kind of like squares and rectangles...

And The CH In Psychology

My paternal grandmother passed away this fall ((in case you don't know what paternal grandmother means, it means she was my fathers mother)). I have the memorial service pamphlet in the mirror on my wall. It's weird to lose a grandparent. Especially when they have always lived far away. Because sometimes it can feel like they are just not around and then the pain of losing them becomes a reality once more and you would rather not get out of bed. It's one sick rollercoaster. I find I miss her more and more as time goes on, rather than less. If you know me and you've heard me talk about my grandmother, I have probably used a single consistent word to describe her: Bitch. Wild, rampant, absolute bitch. And oddly, I mean that in the most respectful way. The woman took crap from no man, woman, or child. She was the most hard working, devoted woman I have ever met. Her happiness never came before anyone elses and she loved fiercely. She always supported me and my craziness. Telling me I would work it out in the end and if I couldn't figure it out? There was no hope for the rest of humanity because I was the smartest girl that ever did live. She was so proud of me. It radiated from her. When I graduated High School, I had double the amount of credits needed and I mentioned it to my grandmother while she was on my living room floor, making me lei's for graduation, and the look on her face wasn't the typical shock but rather reassurance. "Of course you do, baby, you're probably the smartest girl at the public school, certainly the prettiest." That was my granma, no crap, just truth. I get that from her. I'm the only one of her grankids to ever tell her she was being stupid. I threw away her cigarettes when I was there for a Summer and told her she'd have to stop if she wanted to live long enough to see any of us do anything. Two years later she was in the hospital. We thought that was the end of the road. My daddy played the guitar and I sang in the ICU, totally not allowed but they made an exception. I'm the first thing she remembered. My voice, me holding her hand. I had never seen her take a sick day in her life before that. She was at my cousins wedding a month later, at my graduation half a year later, and lived 4 more years.

Like The Truth In Theology

I'm only who I am because of where I've been. Despite the dark that lies therein, light shines through to where I stand. I could never cover up or pretend that the past did not exist. I'm better for it, love and freedom in one resounding echo across everything that I am. Never stop, never stop, never stop.

Peace.

Save Your Resolutions For Your Never New Year

"There is only one solution I can see here."

So tonight is the end of another year. I'm older and wiser and... more mature? Why not. We'll run with that. I have a cute little dress, a party full of my nearest and dearest.. Honestly, this year has been an amazing one, I kind of pretend it started in September of 2009 and run from there. In Peru is where my life really started over and Italy is where I really got most of myself back, thanks to one of the most wonderful families ever to be. 2010 brought me back to who and where I was meant to be, not just physically but in all the ways that aren't physical as well. I am delighted to tell you all that I am happy. Ridiculously and absurdly happy. And I would love for this all to carry into 2011 and the rest of my life... yes, please. And now for Resolutions!

As my most delightful friend Nanners says: "Don't judge me monkey!"

I've actually never really made New Years Resolutions and so, I am starting a new tradition. Although, I won't lie, they are more "Christmas Resolutions" as I created them on Christmas Day. There are seven because, if you know me at all, you know that I function in the land of green and sevens.

1. Love on everyone to the highest degree I am capable.
2. Be as honest as possible and don't hold back what I feel.
3. Remember to have a spontaneous adventure about once a week so I don't get "jumper syndrome."
4. Try to blog daily... maybe.
5. Do yoga every morning, consider getting certified as an instructor.
6. Use my Starbucks cards to purchase coffee for unsuspecting strangers in the drivethru line!
7. Make time to spend more time with friends.

Pretty simple. There are probably more teeny ones, but those are the ones I really want to focus on. I think, other than loving on everyone, the two biggest are making sure I adventure constantly so I don't get fidgety here in the PNW and blogging. Not that blogging in itself is all that important, but I have difficulty creating consistency for myself so that ((plus classes)) will be a good way to have a semblance of it. Let's see how well Malia has gotten to know herself. Actually, if I know myself at all? February will be the time to be rather careful... I should probably plan a get away. Maybe New Mexico or Cali. Somewhere warm and ridiculous to tide me over for another 6 months. Oh planning, how you illude me. I shall capture you yet!

PS, you know you have fallen into family bliss when you come home to your parents swing dancing to the Burlesque soundtrack in the kitchen and make you join in. When your baby brother sits on the floor next to your computer to tell you about his day. When your little brother takes your advice to get a mohawk and then you argue about who loves the other more. I love them.

Hauoli makahiki hou and a happy fricken New Year to you kidds.

Peace be.

Glow

I followed that star right up to my front door

There's nothing like Christmas to make me want more.

If I've been dreaming, don't you dare let me wake

And, Angels, protect me with each small snowflake.

I care not for the future if it does not exist

This moment is what I aim for and I can't miss.

My past is littered with careless effigies

Of a battered heart and brutal honestys.

I can say without hesistation that I

Have often been short changed or passed by

But I am not afraid of what the future might bring

In the sun or the rain, I'll continue to sing.

Cause despite all the pain, I still find sheer joy

And I'll continue to find happiness to employ.

I know all the rumors and I'll put them to rhyme

We can't all be perfect and so I won't try.

There's a spark where I stand open here in the dark

The vunerability is so blatent and stark

Against the black skyline I'll burn with a fire

For a Love and a Life I'll continually admire

This isn't a game and so, I won't play

There is more to this life, today is the day.

I didn't used to be able to picture myself with short hair. Even after I cut it, I still had the image of myself with long brown hair in my head. I would look in the mirror, cocking my head right and then left, not seeing it. Not seeing me. I wasn't too worried about it, but it did make me think about who was in the mirror versus who was standing in front of it. There is a cool scene in the latest Chronicles of Narnia film, Voyages of The Dawn Treader, where Lucy reads a spell to make her beautiful. She transforms into her sister and while looking into the mirror, pushes it forward and walks through as if it were a door. But once she is on the other side she realizes that by becoming her elder sister, she has erased herself from existence. I wonder if we do that sometimes in real life... If we try so hard to become what we want to see in the mirror that we erase ourselves from existence.

I was told this afternoon that I was glowing. By a stranger. When a stranger tells you you're glowing, there are two possibilities. Either A. You need to check into some facility for coming into contact with radioactive or nuclear material OR B. You are genuinely happy. And I am. I am usually a pretty happy, easy going human but something has changed in the past couple weeks. I learned to really let go of things, truly forgive people and myself for our many mistakes, and love on them unconditionally. Even the people I am not so fond of. They suck at life, but I'll love them anyway. When the number of people you'd take a bullet for jumps from 12 to 7 Billion? There is definite change happening in you. I am excited about attending Uni as of next week. I am excited about my mentors and bouncing ideas off of them. I'm excited to share with those I love. I am excited for New Years and for the new year. I am excited that I have people in my life who tell me when what I'm doing is awesome and when it might not be the healthiest. I am excited that everyone in my life makes me laugh and I make them laugh. I'm excited that I'm so excited.

I write the word "LOVE" on every paper bill I get. And when I purchase things, I purchase them with love rather than cash. Everyone looks at me kind of funny, but nobody asks why the word "LOVE" is scrawled in red sharpie across the dollar bill in their hand. It's okay that they don't, I just hope it spreads and makes somebody smile. But I hope someone does ask and I have the opportunity to tell them. It's because you're loved, by me! A complete and total stranger. I love you, Stranger. I'll be as honest as I can with you, I will never judge you, and I will love you through everything you are with everything that I am. It won't be perfect and sometimes I might miss a step, but it will be the best I can give. So, always know that there is someone out there who loves you, even when it feels like there is no one. Why, you ask? Better question for you, Why not? Big smile now.

A lot of people want to know what's next for their traveling fiend. The answer is simple, I do not! know. And I won't know. I can tell you what I guess, but the truth is I don't know. Just because I'm back in the 425 doesn't mean I've changed who I am at the core. I have no plan. So don't ask me for one. What am I going to do? I'm going to attend Uni classes at Shepherds and do some Yoga. I am going to continue volunteering, singing, and participating in 3 different churches. I'd like to maybe do a walking trip. I'm going to leave the country and travel the world again, this time with a companion. I am going to climb mountains and hang out with ridiculously poor people, not because I can give them anything but because what they could give me would be life changing. I am going to get married, I am going to have kids, I am going to take that family around the world. I am going to sing, to dance, to laugh, to cry, to speak funny languages, to travel, to love, to learn for every and no reason at all. I am going to live and then I am going to have the greatest adventure of all. And I am going to enjoy every minute. How's that for what's next? That would be the "50 Year Plan," Ladies and Gents, and there is no insurance policy on it.

I think that's all for now, kidds. Celebrate the New Year in style. Love on one another. Glow.

A Letter

Estrela bela,

Natal feliz, Estrela. I hope this season is finding you well. You are greatly missed on the back streets of Porto. Maddy and I have taken up Alvaros old flat, along with Diego. Diego is adjusting to Portugal alright, I think he wishes he had chosen an internship in Colombia. Hes freezing his south american bagana off, but enjoying the hospital here. Maddy is still at his bank and is dating someone new, you will be very proud to know that they have been together for three entire weeks! Yesterday we all went into the fountain in the park you love so much, except for Diego who said we were out of our heads. Maddy called him a cadela and dragged him under the water. It was 6C. As for me, I am slowly working towards normalcy. I tried dating awhile back, but Im just not ready. I recently purchased a small building to create a gallery with the money I made from my exhibit. I have my first featured artist there starting in January. Looks like my art degree really will help me make my way in the world. I regret to inform you that I passed up several offers on the artwork of yours I displayed there, but I couldnt bring myself to part with yours or Alvaros work. I think once I have made a bit more, I could have reproductions made and sold in my new gallery shop, sending you the earnings? I feel the earnings from Alvaros art should go to finding a cure for SIDA/VIH, I have seen quite a bit of research on stem cell surgery possibly curing it. I have a small amount of resentment about a cure, and yet? Hope.

There is a poet I love, Fernando Pessoa, who once wrote:

"To feel today what one felt yesterday isnt to feel at all - its to remember today what was felt yesterday, to be todays living corpse of what yesterday was lived and lost."

It doesnt make the same sense to me in English as it does in Portuguese, but it means something of this. There is no excuse to live in the past. To remain feeling the same things you felt yesterday is to remain in yesterday and never move forward. For that pain to grow? For it to swell inside you and then subdue itself in the recesses of your mind is to truly move on, to live in today. We cannot hold onto things in the same way we held them yesterday, we must let them change. Grow or shrink, it makes no difference, but we must allow them to change and, in that, change us. I am learning this more and more as time passes. Diego said the other day that he "does not imagine real beauty to exist in the things, people that make our heads turn, but rather in the things that we dont realize are beautiful until we know them so well that we are very suddenly surprised to find them stunning." I believe that is true. Going from engaged to single, I feel that all the things I once saw as beautiful are nothing but superficial art. And you know how I hate that so. Sometimes I wonder how often we pass the things by that seep with pure beauty because we cannot make sense of it in a modern way. You can be sure that any popular idea must have some stupidity laced in it.

At first, after the engagement, I felt it necessary to stand up straight. To not speak of the event or even of B. Eventually I degraded into a spout of slurs against her, with the assistance of friends and alcohol, like any good self-respecting portuguese boy. And then I quieted myself, I should have known better than that. I recognized my own faults in the matter, saw my own hand at play in the game. I was holding too much to the idea that it was only my concept of right and wrong that mattered. I was grasping at maintaining my appearance in the world of friends and, though I am sorry to admit, wealth. "Words were not given to man in order to conceal his thoughts.” Jose Saramago. I should have known better than that. I think you are the only person who could understand these things about me, comprehend what I am enduring.

I think of you often. I wish you could be here to mull these things over with, as we did before. But I know you are seeking your own path. You do not know this, but how different you are than you were. And, each day, you grow more so towards whoever it is you are meant to be. It is so beautiful to behold. I imagine this is how angels grow into their light. Your wings are stretched across continents, Estrela. I think you dont realize your affect on others, the way you weave yourself ever so carefully into other peoples lives is like the most beautiful art. You tie yourself to others, loving them wholeheartedly. Even from afar. How jealous I am of this capacity you have. To love unconditionally is a gift rarely given, and even more rarely recognized. I hope you know how proud we are of you in all your endeavors. Your seeking heart will surely not go unanswered. If there was ever a creature to make me believe in a God, it would be you.

“In the end we discover the only condition for living is to die.” Jose Saramago. And so, live unreservedly, Estrela sua. We all miss you terribly and love you lawlessly.

Yours,

Topher

“If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together, there is something you must always remember: You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart, I'll always be with you.” A A Milne, The Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.

I miss you too.

Abandon Religion

Warning: This blog? Will probably offend you.

Just sayin.

I feel like there's a trend:

"Jesus is cool, it's just that they've fucked with Jesus. Christianity was at it's best when it was secret and hidden and you could die for it." Tattoo Artist in San Francisco

"I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." Mahatma Gandhi

"Very simply, Jesus expected to be obeyed. He did not present esoteric theory of God or the afterlife merely to stimulate intellect." Mark Scandrette

"What if Jesus meant what he said?" Shane Claiborne

"Possibly the worst thing that has happened to The Church is that it has become widely accepted." Chris Haw

"Jesus did not support a government nor did he claim to be on any side of war, he publicly rebuked heads of state and religion, calling them out. He is not behind any man carrying a gun, but holding those who suffer innocently." Ex Soldier of the US Marines.
 
"The Good News is not that Jesus died for your sins, you selfish being. It is that the Kingdom is come and this news belongs to those who are misfits and broken. It does not belong to the rich, white, elite, or even the pious." Ryan Bolger
 
"How can you worship a homeless man on Sunday and ignore one on Monday?" Simple Way
 
"Even if you didn't believe Jesus was the Son of God, you gotta admit, that man was just as badass as  those we revere and respect today, the Gandhi's and Martin Luther King Jr's. He stood up against the empire of empires, the ultimate renegade." KP
 
"Despite our war-lust in this 21st century, we do not respect those who fight violence with violence, but set up shrines to those who fight violence with Love."
 
"The bottom line is that real love always shows itself in action. Nothing happens or changes in this world unless, by faith, we actually do something." Mike Yankoski
 
"A life is either all spiritual or not spiritual at all. No man can serve two masters. Your life is shaped by the end you live for. You are made in the image of what you desire.” Thomas Merton
 
“If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were precisely those who thought most of the next. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this.” CS Lewis
 
Ah yes, that's it.
 
It would be foolish to believe I was the first to want this revolution, but I do want to continue it. The Church is not a building, it is the people. And with all the Sunday morning routines, God-incorporated governments, and lifestyles created for nothing but comfort? Jesus would not be our homeboy. He would tell us we're all fucking stupid. Christianity has singlehandedly invalidated itself. It has lost all credibility and so it is the perfect moment to abandon it. The God of Christ is not one of religion. He is a God of the homeless. He is a God of the refugees. He is a God of the fuckups and the misfits, the awkward and the unsure. Of the children and the lost. Jesus didn't hang out with the Suburban families or the upper class kids who went to the temple every Sunday. He hung out with prostitutes, lepers, and the impoverished. He chilled at the houses of liars and cheaters. His best friends were the uneducated, low working class. Who are you to judge these people if Jesus did not? And further still, who am I to judge you for living in that way? No one.
 
I write this not to condemn but to reveal the nature of what "Christianity" has become. I am bound by no such religion as exists for the justification of judgement and hypocrisy, but rather? A humble follower of The Way. A consistent fuckup just trying to Love on other people. A broken sinner lucky enough to be saved by grace with the amazing opportunity to bring Love back to this messed up world. How will you react to this? Will you abandon the excuse used for centuries to persecute, judge, and conform? Will you take up the burden of the original task?
 
Well, that's that. I could say I'm sorry if I offended you, but honestly? I hope I did.
 
That means you were paying attention.
 
Peace

Killing Hallmark

I say conspire.



Can you even imagine? If we reconnected with one another on a human level rather than a commercial one? I say conspire! Be a piece of restoring this crazy world. So I'll put it to ya'll like this, lets throw it out there that you celbrate Christmas purely because of the Hallmark nature of the holiday. Merely because you grew up giving gifts on December 25th ((which is, not gonna lie, kind of a random date)). There was just always a christmas tree, wreaths, lights, and a plate of cookies and milk under the stockings for Saint Nick ((and perhaps a carrot for the reindeer)). And, purely due to the state of the economy ((around the world, yes, but specifically here in the US of A)), would it not be better to give the gift of time rather than plastic? Anddd, would it not amount to more if you made something from scratch and gave it to someone, telling them that they are worth more than a $20 gift card? Wouldn't giving your time and energy show somone how much they mean to you better than whatever is onsale after Thanksgiving?

Check out ways you can spend less and give more at my friend Mike's No Cost//Low Cost Christmas Celebrations post! I encourage you to focus on "no cost" rather than "low cost" gifts. The most important thing you can give someone is Love which comes more readily in the form of time than objects. Juss sayin'.

Wikiwiki, change of PACE. Let's say you don't celebrate Christmas at all, not such a rarity, most of the world doesn't. So what if you spent the time you have off - not working or trying to reign in extra cash for things that you, face it, don't need - but instead! hanging out with family? Or maybe got together for an extra coffee date with a friend you don't see often enough? You have the time to love on people, so show 'em some! Purely for the sake of spreading joy in this world. We need it, that much is obvious.

Tis the season, we say. Season for what? This season is no different than any other season ((except the amount of rainfall we recieve in Washington goes up substancially)), we should love on one another and give our time rather than our money YEAR ROUND. This is basic stuff, kids. It's not hard to see that violence, that war, that anger - are all cycles. The "War on Terror?" Give me a break, you cannot beat violence with more violence. You cannot defeat terrorism with terror. You will never end war with war. Never. What defeats evil, what destroys violence, what desimates terror and war? Is Love. Oh yah, I'm gonna continue singing that one from the rafters. Love conquers all things. It has never been a war of "good" versus "evil" because "good" is perspective. It's a question of Love versus evil, always...

Buttt, I'm getting off topic and swinging around to my typical sermon of gushy crap, so I'll let you get back to what it was you were doing before so rudely interrupted by said blog.

Love.

Peace,

Hypocritical Me

Why are there homeless?
Why are there hungry, thirsty, sick, inflicted?
Why is there war?
Why is there genocide, persecution, discrimination, hatred?

I ask these question in earnesty. Why do these things exist? Do we genuinely believe that it is of some fault of the people suffering that these things exist? Or perhaps only because of the cruelty of "others," whoever they may be? Does this lead us to believe in a heartless, hypocritical God? Or no god whatsoever?

We are baffled by the images in our newspapers, on our televisions, on our homepages. We are disgusted and appalled at the world. We are angered by the injustice of it all! And we look to the sky, beyond which we know is a grand universe but are unsure of any "God" and we ask, nay, demand:

HOW CAN YOU ALLOW THIS SUFFERING TO EXIST?!

But I don't think we are listening for the response. For if we were, we might hear, ever so gently whispered in our ears:

how can you?

I am as guilty as anyone, just as hypocritical. How many times have I witnessed the suffering of others, be it small or large, slammed my fist down upon the table I was sitting at with anger and good intentions, then proceeded to do nothing? How many times have I said, "Oh, if only I could do something to help" instead of actually assisting those in need?

How. Many. Times.

We take luxury for granted. We live with shoes, with blankets, with water... Our hypocrisy runs deep. More so in the church that anywhere else. "Jesus loves you, so I don't have to!" the bumper sticker reads. We wear our best Sunday clothes and avoid anything, and anyone, who might soil our clothes, much less our lives. We worship a homeless guy on Sunday and ignore one on Monday.

Yah, but what can I do? we ask.

Give them a bible and tell people if they don't shape up! they are going to Hell. Pick up a weapon and try to take back the Holy Land. Kill anyone who looks, sounds, or act differently than you. Burn reading material that may suggest a different way of thinking. Go to war to create peace. I believe these are all popular methods of "helping out!" And, as evidence by history, these things are all very helpful in "defeating evil."

But what if...

What if we approached it in a different way? What if we told people we love them unconditionally ((which means there is nothing, and I mean nothing, they can do to make Him stop loving them))? Better yet, what if we showed them? What if we destroyed weapons? What if we handed out food and words of encouragement rather than judgement and violence? What if when someone wronged us, we sent them an apology? What if we stood in front of war machines, what if we forgave all debt, what if we smiled at strangers, and told random passerbys that we love them?! What if we did these things not because anyone asked but just because?! I do believe we would get a response of:

Uhm, What The Fuck?

And what a wonderful "what the fuck?" it will be! I refuse to have any "what if's" in my life, I want them to be reality. I want to spread love like violence. Like a disease that infects to the very core of a person, I want to love like that. It starts with you, with me, with the individual! But what is so great, what is so amazing? Is that it doesn't stay there. It continues to infect people, groups, humanity! We put so much faith in what is bigger than us, what if we put faith in us too?

I have faith in you.

The question is this; Will you do these things? Be these things?

These three things remain; Faith, Hope, and Love. And the greatest of these, is Love.

It's About Love

Hero.

We Will Run

The easiest way to motivate me : Tell me I can't.

"What are you doing, Malia?"

Life is not about discovering and doing what makes them happy - whoever the eff they are. There is so much more. Things that are bigger than you have ever imagined. And you can't build it. You can't invent it. Change will spread like disease and there will never be a cure. We must spark a movement. A movement that bridges generation, race, gender, ability, religion, culture. The sound of a billion different voices rising in a million different ways and a thousand different languages, not as one, and yet still together. Creating a bond stronger than any armor, more powerful than any weapon. Not just peace, but Love.

SPREAD LOVE LIKE VIOLENCE

But how? How do we create this? How can we accomplish something so global? It begins, with you, friend, and with me. It is the smile you give to a stranger. The touch you give to a friend going through a rough time. Helping someone out with something and expecting nothing in return. Doing nice things for the hell of it. Calling the friend you think of. Handing a homeless person your Starbucks gift card. Playing with children. Being polite to the idiot who spilled your coffee. Enjoying your life not because of what you get out of it, but because of what it gets out of you.

We bleed the same and we will bleed for this. A war to end all war. Fought on the front lines of human existence with a violence that needs no physical weapon. Not only for peace, but also for Love. There nothing that can unite us, if not this. Regardless of who you are, where you come from, what you believe - surely this rings true. Let us create new things from the old. Out of these, the lives we live, we shall create better ones. Not only for ourselves, but for all people. What is this life for, if not to create more?

What am I doing? I'll tell you. I am being a part of something bigger than myself. I am a single piece of a revolution. I may not be doing it your way, but that only makes my effort all the more genuine. Not because it is not yours, because it is my own. Do you understand? Can you understand?

Am I going to change the world? I have no fucking idea. But I will change my own life to reflect that which I see this world in need of. I will be peace. I will emit hope. I will Love. And I will spread it like the plague.

I can only hope that you will see the urgency in this cause, and that you will run to be a part of this revolution. That we will all run to be a part of this.

Call Me Out

I have an apology to make; It might be to many of you who read this blog, or perhaps only to those who do not. I'd like to apologize to those who ever looked up to me when I was a High Schooler or ever Junior High student. I wasn't the person you needed me to be and gave you the wrong impressions of what was good in this world. I mocked you through my selfish lifestyle and rebellion. I never took your feelings into consideration, I never thought once about the effect I might have on your life. I am so very sorry for having made you doubt yourself, or having made you believe less of whatever it was you believed then. It was never my intent, but I couldn't see the damage I was creating through my selfish tendencies. I should have been a better role model, someone you could have been proud to look up to. Someone who did good, selfless things, rather than the self-absorbed life I lived. I apologize for any injury I may have caused you, and any pain that you may have been in simply because of my example. I am sorry.

It's hard to apologize, especially when most of the people I know I met after that time period in my life. But in order to go where I am going, I have to be honest about where I once was. And where I once was? It was a dark and frightening place. I should not have let anyone follow me there, yet I did. I knew there were people who looked up to me, people who I was hurting. But my pain seemed more prevalent, of more importance - as if we are ever more important than another being.

"You make beautiful things, You make beautiful things out of the dust.

You make beautiful things, You make beautiful things out of us."

And here it is, the beautiful thing You are making me into. Where I am now is only the beginning, there is so much more. "I see what you've done, your hard hard work, your refusal to quit. I know you can't stomache evil, that you weed out apostolic pretenders. I know your persistence, your courage in my cause, that you never wear out. But why have you walked away from your first love - why? What's going on with you anyway? Do you have any idea how far you've fallen?" Rev2.2 And there it is. I've changed my life and it's for the better. I'm not who I was and you would not recognize me had you not seen me in years. But wait! Have I forgotten my first love? And if so, what is that first love of mine?

I am sitting in a black chair by a dead fireplace, eight-thirty in the morning in a wine bar that serves coffee."You have a real heart for those who have lost their way." Was there ever a truer statement? Why yes, from the same person actually, "You have a lot of grace for those who don't fit the mold, for those who are hurting or have lost their way - but you don't have much grace at all for those who actually do fit the mold." Ouch. And my humility makes it's way out of the woodworks. There is so much I have left to learn.

"This world is dying, the old world's dying now.

But a new one's dawning.

And You keep calling us out.

Call me out, You call me out, You're calling me out."

It is written on my hand. I belong and I am unafraid. I am young, I am naive. I am constantly learning and finding my way. Sometimes people look down on me because I am not taking the conventional path. But I am making my own. I have to believe that it is alright that I am not following other people's footsteps. I'm not the first to forge my own path, there are many others who have created a path for themselves, not following those around them. And that is alright, I believe it is alright. I am learning. Through my failures and my mistakes, through grace and God. I could never know what the future holds, but I know it is good. I know it is new. I know that it is restoring.

My first love. How far back are we talking here? Are we headed all the way back to age 3, jumping on the bed in my underwear with a boy named Jonathan playing Power Rangers? How about when I was 8 and wanted to be Mia Hamm? Is this about the first man I fell in love with? The first man I wanted to spend my life with? The first time I met a soulmate? Or are we talking about a different kind of love? Are we talking about my need to breathe travel? Something about seeing every corner of the world? What about music? Maybe nonprofit organizations? - It took me awhile, and it's possible I still haven't figured it out. But I think I am headed in the right direction. We can never know for sure, despite what you imagine. We can only hope and pray we are doing the right thing. So here I am, returning to my first love, whatever that might be. Child again, searching for answers in that which is simple.

ישראל

No Life Vest Required

I hear a sound like rushing water,

It's growing louder just like thunder.

This is our anthem, our song of love,

It is rising, the sound of hallelujah.

I heard a most awesome story this weekend about an orphanage in Zambia and a little boy named Doozy. When you are going to adopt a child from this orphanage, they ask several weeks before you come to pick the child up that you send a photo album. This photo album should include pictures of each member of you family, any pets you have, the child's new room, their backyard, the school they will attend, etc. So Doozy was adopted this Summer by a man ((and his family)) I met this weekend, and when he recieved his photo album? the people working at the orphanage said Doozy was beside himself with joy. He told everyone who would listen, "Look! I have a family! And this is my dog! I have a room! And a backyard! This is my school and my neighbors! This is my home!" He carried the photo album everywhere he went, it sat beside him at meals and under his arm as he slept, it was on the toilet beside the bathtub and next to his feet as he played games with the other children. Isn't this how we should be? Not with pride, but with the joy that comes from the inner most parts of our souls! This life is ours!

I find myself seeking a life I never before saw as possible. I have forgotten my fear, left it beside my doubt and run into the sunlight. And my arms are raised in wonder and I am joyful. My soul feels as light as it's ever been and I feel the pressure of this fall dissipate. There is freedom is surrender.

Salut, ma joie de vivre, tu m'ai manqué!

Ghandi said that "You must be the change you want to see in the world." I always imagined that to mean you have to do the things you want to see happen, but that's not what he said, is it? He said be, not do. No matter how many charities you donate to, regardless of your "charity" and "good works," the world will not change. Not because those things don't matter, but because those things don't change the world. You change the world. It is not your actions, but your person that makes this world into the place you want to see. It is being nice to your cranky waitress, it is taking deep breaths and not cursing the idiot who cut you off, it is dropping a dime into every donatation box you see, it is buying coffee for the person behind you in the Starbucks line, it is smiling at strangers you see on the street. It is Capitalist suicide, giving unconditionally without the expectation of any return. Because it isn't the things you do, it's you that will change this earth for the better.

"Stop passing out life vests and start painting the walls of this sinking ship."

Dream Big!

The line is blurred with inadequacies. Don't hold back what you want to say. I'm learning more and more that honesty counts for all things. It's not about what you want, it's about what you need. I'd like to think we are always growing. I'd like to think we understand more about ourselves each and every day. And I swear those words could heal.

Take my hand, live while you can, don't you see your dreams are right in the palm of your hand?

I don't know where I'm going. I don't know what I'll do. I don't know, but I know it's gonna be good. My life is far from perfect, but I have what I need. That's what counts, that's what is important. Maybe it's not the most luxurious lifestyle, but I know what it is to live on a dollar a day. I am letting go of what "defines" me, making room for new.

No fear, no fences, nobody. No reins. She's learning how to let go, whichever way the wind blows.

Just drive. Search for the prettiest fall colors. Cheers to freedom. Laugh until you cry. Dance on tabletops. Thank God for every little thing. Take a walk. Talk on the phone. Ride your bike. Take photographs. Sing at the top of your lungs. Make cookies so good they melt. Hang out with kids. Write. Travel on your own. Throw sparkles into the air. Wear whatever you like. Say what you mean. Mean what you say.

These words are my diary screaming out loud and I know that you'll use them however you want to.

I am going to do the Seattle to Portland ride with my friend Nanners this Summer. Maybe climb Ranier as well. After that? I'm thinking I'd like to do the LA to DC ride. From there? I want to walk back. Virgina, Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, Cali, Oregon to Washington. Seeing all the things I've always wanted. And yes, I said walk. I would like to move home to Hawaii for awhile. I'd like to open a bakery and live on a sailboat. I want to get married. Barefeet and toes in the sand. I want to see four kids running around with my eyes and their fathers hair. Me in a little dress from 1955 and him in jeans and a blazer, both of us tripping over eachother to get the kids to school and ourselves to work, laughing the whole time. Hey, when I dream? I dream big. As my friend Jo said, crazier things have happened.

I hate to break it to you babe, but I'm not drowning. There's no one here to save.

As beautiful as all those dreams are? I have found that the things you want and the things you get are not always insync. But I have what I need and I can work towards those dreams I long for. That is what's important. Life will send you waves, you just gotta pick which ones you wanna ride.

Someone Punch Me In The Subconscious

One year ago. One year ago, I was in Cusco. I won't go any further into depth because today I am fragile. One year and one month ago, I was the happiest I had ever been. Even now, I count those days as some of the most wonderful I've ever had. The whole world lit up around me. And it was beautiful. My heart was full and I was alive. There was nothing I could not do, could not face. I was wild, untamable, free. And yet, I belonged. Oh! what a marvelous feeling!

Everything I once held dear, I count it all as lost.


I like old things. Clothing, furniture, photographs. I like their history. For the same reason, I like people. Because we have history. I want to know, I want to understand. I have childlike wonder and curiosity. There is so much to know about this world! Old cameras, record players, typewriters, vintage posters, and black and white films. I love things that are made by hand, from scratch. I like to cook that way. I think that makes it better, gives it more of a history. Writing letters is one of my favorite past times, you know, with a pen and paper? I want the whole world to have that grainy vintage look from home videos in the 1970's. I want to feel that at home.

But what can I tell you?

I'm falling out of love on my own. It hurts and I wonder if this is all worth the while. Someone punch me in the subconscious. Every time I think I am making headway, I realize I've actually taken a step backwards. I want to be done with this, I want to be new and open to love again. But, I realize, I'm terrified. I use my ability to use awkwardness for humor as a shield against anything that even resembles more than friendship. I am shut off to the part of me I cherish the most. I love people unconditionally, but I can't seem to let them love me. I keep refusing that part of the equation and that isn't what I want. Isn't who I want to be. I'm afraid. I am afraid of falling in love alone again and, worse still, having to fall out of love on my own as well. A place where there is no closure, just you pulling a heavy door shut slowly despite your desperate urge to check if there is anyone on the other side every two minutes.





Please remember.

It's worth it, you know. I am scared, I am so terrified of being hung out to dry that I am possibly ten fold more awkward than normal [an impressive feat, I assure you]. But then I close my eyes and take a deep breath, asking myself if "playing it safe" ever got anyone anywhere. And demanding to whether or not I think I will somehow benefit from not experiencing the most wonderful thing there is, simply because of some fear? Sure, I'll never have a broken heart ever again. But I will also never be back at that place I was one year ago, never pass that place. I am afraid. But that is no excuse. I am slowly opening myself back up to the possibility that love is meant to abound within all that I am. It is ridiculously painful and utterly terrifying - and I am doing it anyway. Because even the smallest sliver of hope that says I might fall in love and be loved once again is worth it.

Here's lookin' at you, Kid.

I am commandeering. That is my heart and I'll take it back, thank you. I'm almost there. I believe in love and all it's possibilities. And I refuse to let something as simple as fear take that away from me. Here's hoping.

To all those who have forgotten to believe in the immensity of love.

Now, You Must Understand

now

you must understand

i'm a creature of spontaneity

and

- once again -

my priorities shift to the left

have you ever been in love

ever feel that rush

it makes you hurt in places you didn't know felt

gives you joy in ways you never fathomed

oh! what lunacy!

oh! what wonderment!

oh! have you ever been in love

i have

and baby i'll break before i let it go

don't flatter yourself, gentlemen

i'm not talking about you

i know what i want

i just came here to take it

this might make me or break me

but i'll never know

if i don't give it my all

don't

stand

still

found : heart

best believe i'm keeping it this time

burst into bloom

i hope you're paying attention

i've given you everything you need

now what could create such a violent change

what does love have to offer me

that stability doesn't

i'll tell you

there's another world i long for

a world where there is always sand in your hair

where swimwear qualifies as undergarments

where surfboards are the prefered method of transportation

where you can taste the air

the ocean is warm

and the sunshine in never ceasing

where there are only rainbow worthy storms

where i have freckles year round

where there are cliffs you can jump off of everyday

and flowers with no english name

where the palm trees are inconvenient

where green and blue dominate the color palatte

where dance is speech

where tattoos are common bread

where there are no worries about what might have been

where i am meant to be

my name is malialani

and this is where i belong

it dances on the tip of my tongue

i live this life like i get paid to

not stopping for anything

read me and weep

baby this is it

I'm Over Getting Older

Wednesday morning, three weeks ago: I wake up to the phone ringing - I hate that. Who calls the house phone at 6am? Really? I put it out of my mind and let my mind wander back to my dreams. It's 7:20 and the home phone is ringing, again. I can hear the shower running. There is no one else to answer the phone. This better be life or death because I am about to verbally break someone over the phone, I do not appreciate home phone wake up calls. My father tells me he bought a plane ticket. Gee, thats quaint - wtf for?! He then realizes who he is talking to. He tells me my younger brother is in the hospital, he's on the next flight to Chicago. I am dumbfounded. This is one of the few instances in my life where I am rendered speechless. My sarcastic wit and sharp tongue are stripped of their super powers and I am starring at our white cordless like it has leperosy. I'm sorry, what just happened? There are people running around me at a pace I can't understand because I can't seem to move. I wonder vaguely if they are speaking the same language as me, perhaps I should slip into a different one. My mother doesn't do crisis. She survives it well enough, but she doesn't live in it well. I take control of the situation. I think this is how cruise directors feel. I can't feel anything. Everyone is offering me food and I kind of want to hit them. Nothing is happening. With the major exception that my brother is coding somewhere 4 hours by fricken jet engine. I bury my heart beneath about three layers of old fashioned malia.

[Sidenote: In case you don't know, if you were to rewind the VHS that is my life to even a year ago - you would encounter a young woman who lived purely off adrenaline somewhere between joy and anger. During those years, I lived constantly under around ten layers of old fashioned malia. Now, to bury oneself under ever one level of old fashioned malia is to secure your well being from all forms of basic humiliation and human cruelty, from there it only increases exponentially. Two layers of old fashioned malia will protect you from most military weaponry, while three will protect you entirely from direct nuclear contact. With four levels you could very comfortably inhabit extreme climates, such as those Venus offers, and by the time you've hit five, you make Super Man look eggshell breakable. Any more than that? I'll leave you to the imagining.]

My brain whispers quietly, "This is the fallout. Prepare for the worst." By the time the dust settles, I am doing what I do best. Living under constant fire. I was built for extremes. Put me in an overstressful environment and I will thrive. My calm will shock and amaze the most qualified marine. I am never clearer than when the whole world has gone to hell. I am truly under the belief that when I am in crisis-mode, there is nothing I can't handle, so perhaps it is only my ego that is infallible. But, of course, all things come with a price. I am running at full sped keeping the rest of the world informed as to the nuclear fallout my family is experiencing and attempting to maintain normalcy. I don't even notice that layers of old fashioned malia are creeping in to tuck me goodnight, wraping me in the comfortable warmth and numbness they provide. We hit four layers - five. Then Friday, the second bombshell. My grandmother, my fathers mother, died. Ironically, about the same time my brother regained minor consciousness. Miracle? Sure, why not. I prefer the term "bitchslap" - but to each their own, right?

It's Friday one week later and I can taste the air. There is limitless sunshine and rainstorms that are the equivalent of luke warm showers. The colour palatte is blue and green with red dirt and coral sand. Those are the only colours I even bother to absorb. English is broken and no one will ever bother to fix it. I have freckles and my heart beat is in time with the tide. I can't sleep. I haven't slept in two and a half weeks. I close my eyes and lose track of the time, but it's not the same thing. My brother is headed back to Seattle with "extensive recovery" waiting for him. My grandmother is a pile of ashes that no one will make a decision about. I feel exactly two things: Joy and Anger. Laughter can pull me from my negativity, but it seems to be the only thing. I'm not sad, I'm not upset, I'm not broken, I'm just pissed off. The crisis stage is over and now the healing begins - or whatever. That just pisses me off even more. Why yes, there is something wrong with me. I have my grandmother's ashes and an attitude problem, swell.

I'd like to apologize in advance for my behaviour because I can go ahead and predict it. My sarcasm has returned with a vengence and my music selection says all you really need to know about me. I keep laughing out loud at myself and glaring at people who dont understand my dark humour. I don't think I've taken my headphones off for more than 45 minutes consecutively. I've done nothing all day. Nothing. My brain feels like it might explode at any moment and the weather is making me nauseous. What's worse? Is I can't even think of anything to do. I'm broke and can't seem to find a job to hang myself with, living at home which is okay but not okay [everyone over the age of 18 should know what I mean by this], and I have no friends. Now, I don't mean I'm friendless What I mean is there aren't people in this Suburban Hell to hangout with. No one to grab a beer, rent movies and throw popcorn at the television, go for hikes, or even just sit around and bs with. Maple Valley is the black hole of the Milky Way, people get sucked in and end up in an alternate universe - if they aren't destroyed completely.

[Second Sidenote: When people experience some kind of crisis? Don't offer them food. Odds are, they aren't hungry and are completely numb to everything that is going on around them. Plus, they don't need a refridgerator full of nonsense they won't eat until it goes bad and they have to throw it out and then try and remember to whom each set of tupperware goes! And then they have to remember to get it back to you! Offer them cash, to buy gasoline and their own damn groceries, or your company. That's what people in crisis really need. Everyone backs off so that people can have "space" and whatnot and leave those going through stuff alone to ponder their thoughts - jinkies, swell thought process. If they want you out of their house, they'll kick you out. Until that point, pester them.]

Nothing personal.

I can't check my email, it pisses me off. Why, you ask? I have no idea. It just does. So does facebook but that is attached directly to my ridiculous cell phone with it's genocide condoning technology - so I can't help but check it redundantly. There were women in the bathroom of the Maui airport discussing how men are pigs - these women happened to be wearing short shorts and shirts that cut so low, I'm pretty sure were meant to be lingerie. I had to laugh at them. Ladies, you don't deserve respect - you demand it. If you play into what a guy wants from you, you are going to be treated poorly. Demand respect and you'll get it, or he'll leave. It's that simple. Yes, men are pigs, but who are you to throw stones dressed like that? You all piss me off too.

While I'm laying the frosting on thick, why is it that there are Help Wanted signs all over Hawaii - aka paradise - and I can't find a mothertrucking job in the center of rainy version of the artic circle?! Seriously, someone buy me a plane ticket. I'll spend the rest of my life as a surf rat sleeping under palm trees on the beach and stealing pineapple, bananas, and mango off the plantations. Ha. Gracious, I'm funny. Better yet, anyone want to invest in purchasing Malia a sail boat? I'd have time, so I promise to actually write the book I've been teasing you all with and split the profit. Or maybe I should just start now, seeing as I have no life, and finance myself. Not that the book would have a plot - but, of course, neither does Tucker Max's and that fool made money off exploiting his own life as the pop culture equivalent of a man whore. Would publicizing my own life be as profitable? Hard to say...

Well now! I'm thrilled to say that this short episode of Malia ranting, brought to you by the accumulation of bull shit going on in my life currently, has short circuted my lifeless anger issues. That is exciting. Let's hope it lasts, shall we?

Revolution

and in this light i can see straight through
to the very center of who you are
there is no make up made to cover
what you wish it would
instead of trying to blurr your transparency
why not just make the inside
brighter than the out
so that people don't have to look,
you'll already be shining on through!
you are beautiful just the way you are
there could never be a more beautiful you.

It's early morning and I'm standing on the edge of this life. I'm looking down on the rest of the world from my cloud edge and what I miss most is companionship. The world twinkles from this high. And I see people pass one another by, not even touching. Each with their own agenda. Some are sleeping, others schooling, working, struggling to survive. Many are suffering, in one form or another. There are those in third world countries without homes or food. Some in Western society are broken and tormented. Others are starved for affection or attention. It breaks my heart in each way that I see an individual suffering and billions of little cracks spiderweb across my human heart. A single tear leaves my cheek to drop to the earth below. And where it hits the paved ground, a small bud bursts forth between the cracks of the busy sidewalk. The passerby's eye it cautiously, why is it there in the cement where it doesn't belong? A curious little plant. A second tear leaves from my lips and falls to the asphalt of some parking lot. A third tear falls to the sun baked earth and another onto the ice, a few fall into forests and some onto sand dunes. And where each tear fell there emerged a small bud. People around the world begin to crowd the strange little plants as they grow before their very eyes. Blossoming into tall thick trees that continue up into the sky to a point people can no longer see. Some ignore the plants, avoiding them at all costs and shaming those who do address their existence. Others try to tear the trees from the ground, they are inconvenient and don't belong. Most smile gently as they pass the trees to continue on with their lives. A few begin to care for the trees, watering them and placing fresh earth around the roots. Those people become a part of something bigger than themselves. Their suffering lessens as they grow in community and are there for one another in times of hardship. I lie down on my cloud and peer over the edge, watching my tears grow into beautiful beings all the way back up to where I am. I play in the branches and stroke the waxy leaves against my cheeks, happy that suffering can bring such wonderful joy. And as I peer down through the leaves, I can only hope that someone finds a branch with sure footing and then another and another, all the way up to where I am at the edge of this life. So that they might sit on the edges of clouds and play in the branches of joy with me. So many have started the climb only to turn around before ever making it to the top. I have a sad sort of wonder at them and my hope becomes a little smaller each time they decide to turn around. Yet, another day is setting and so I must find a cloud to tuck myself into, where I will wait for early morning to stand on the edge of this life. I build a small fire with the little hope I have left and dream sweet dreams of a day when someone will find their way up through the branches to where I am and my hope renews, growing into the grand thing it was before the day. It is early morning and I am standing on the edge of this life.

"It's like a revolution and I just want to be a part of it."

The world is changing. My world is changing. There aren't enough Thursdays in a week, that's a fact, pure and simple. I wish I could lead worship for Jr High Retreats all year round. I don't know what I'm doing here, all I know is that there is a revolution happening and I just want to be a part of it. I want to live in the right here for the rest of my life. Where there are amazing things happening each moment and change is catching like fire. This is how life was meant to be lived. This is where the front line is, and I want to be on it. I can't wait for someone else, it needs to be me. I can't wait for when they get around to it, it needs to be now. Autumn is here. Crisp cold air and I'm watching the leaves change from where I stand. Let's change the world by Christmas. Let's be a part of something so big that it blankets the rest of the world in awe. We are called to this. To create real and good change. I believe the best of other people, I think it is one of my key strengths - and flaws. And I believe we can change the world for the better.

I've had a couple people ask if I'm going to write about my week and a half of radio silence, about my brother. The answer is no. One of the privledges of hearing other peoples stories is hearing them from the person who experienced it all. The other is trust. So if you'd like to hear my brother's story, you are welcome to ask. But it is his story to tell. Perhaps if he someday asks me to write on the ordeal, I will consider it. Until then, consider yourself out of luck.

Here's lookin' at you, kids.