(Aloha means "Breath of God")

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pages 21-30
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Chapter 11: Beautiful Holidays!

IT'S REALLY AMAZING to look out my window in the mornings and see the ocean above the trees. That's the way it is, looking to the west; there's a broad stripe of deep blue ocean above the treetops! And it's level with the hilltop to the south. Living on a small island, you begin to realize that this is indeed a water planet.

I've been down very deep in that Black Hole of cyberspace: days and nights almost without delineation, rewriting reiki manuals at the computer. Emerging from my burrow only to cook and eat food -- mostly rice and beans -- to brush my teeth and use the toilet, and to shower and shave every few days. Very little interaction with would-be clients and students; of the few who called since I started the writing project, not a single one has kept an appointment. It feels that the Great Cosmic Intelligence is making sure I have the time and space to do this writing. And I'm very grateful!

I've been leaving the house only for 30 or 40 minutes, not even every day, for a walk. I haven't even gone to the Farmers' Market for 2 weeks, and won't go this week; I'm eating rice and beans, miso, seaweed, and occasionally a slice or 2 of pickled or fresh daikon. And feeling very well and happy.

Here's the story of my 3 recent encounters with fellow humanoids.....

CHRISTMAS DAY --- Celebrating the finishing (at 2:00 a.m.) of one of the manuals (actually, it turned out not to be the finishing, because the very next day I received a new piece of dynamite information to be incorporated).........doing energy exercises........going with Rick and Donna to the home of Albert and Januaria -- he's German, she's Italian, they live in Switzerland -- and their 2 young children. Beautiful children, beautiful parents, both physically and spiritually! All of them golden-haired and radiant and bursting with liveliness and well-being! And Januaria's niece Allegré -- 18 years old, with black hair -- who speaks almost no English.

Januaria was quite interested in reiki; had received her first experience of it in Italy, just before coming to Kauai. And we had time, while Donna was putting the finishing touches on dinner, for me to give Januaria her second reiki experience. (Allegré found the idea of reiki somehow frightening; didn't want anything to do with it!)

Donna fixed what I truly believe is the most delicious and beautiful Christmas dinner I've ever eaten -- turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, purple sweet potatoes, spinach soufflé, an onion-and-raisin dish, and baked brown rice topped with carrot and mushroom and green pepper slices...... And I met Lucinda, a very sweet person who is a massage therapist and aesthetician, and lives in Waimea. She has also taken a reiki class at some point, though doesn't consciously use the reiki.

I believe she's the first aesthetician I've ever met (if you don't know what that is, you'll have to make a trip to the dictionary; I'm not telling!). She had been out delivering Christmas gift bags to low-income families before she arrived to partake of Donna's magical feast. Lucinda became a Baptist a year ago -- and her last name is Baptisté!

She gave me a ride home -- Rick and Donna had come back earlier, right after dinner -- and gave me a gigantic squash that was left from her Christmas deliveries. She dropped me off at the bottom of the hill below Donna's house. I had a marvelous walk up the long, steep driveway (actually, many driveways branch off it, several on either side) carrying my giant squash and still luxuriating in the feeling of that wonderful Christmas feast -- the food and the friendship -- and singing "Mele-kalikimaka" at 10:00 p.m., looking up at the blackness of Heaven overflowing with stars.....

I went to bed and lay there wide awake for hours, giving myself reiki, listening to Art Bell on the radio. Then, out of nowhere, I started getting a flood of thoughts about the Chinese system of 5 energies and the Greek system of 4; that the 5, making a circle, were a closed system, an endless loop; and that the system of 4 energies was not a circle but a line; and how that made the 5 self-sustaining, but also trapped in the physical realm, with nowhere to go; whereas the 4, being linear, were not self-sustaining, they needed an energy supply at one end or the other.....but they also allowed for EVOLUTION, growth, change, ascension..... I was getting all sorts of thoughts about this. I was seeing shortcomings in both systems of understanding, and how one of the Chinese energies could enhance the Greek system; and getting ideas of how to work with those energies in the human body.

I was also speculating on where the Greek system -- or my new, enhanced Greek system -- would go from here. What was the next evolutionary step for it, the next, more subtle energy beyond Air? (A question that may have been answered for me, on New Year's Day, in an article sent by a friend -- Thanks, Alyce! -- about the Mayan Calendar, including a prediction that a new, etheric element would come into being on Earth in the year 2012; an element that would make possible the fusion/reconciliation of all the dualities of this world!)

Finally, at 3:30 in the morning, I could not stay in bed any longer. I got up and dressed and sat on the floor at my little table and diagrammed, on several sheets of paper, all that had come into my head. I was writing and contemplating this until 7:00 a.m. -- and then suddenly I felt very drained. I undressed and went back to bed and slept, off and on (with more reiki), till about noon.


NEW YEAR'S EVE --- We were back at Albert's and Januaria's. Several other friends were already there when we arrived, about 7:30. They were milling around the back yard, eating, and I wasted no time in joining them! There was a huge pan of so-called rice noodles -- the very thin, transparent ones, which are actually made from mung beans -- with vegetables; and a pot of white rice; and garlic bread, and a spinach spread; and Albert was cooking 2 kinds of white fish on the outdoor grill. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, was a pot of corn-on-the-cob.

I've never had more perfectly cooked or more delicious transparent noodles than those! They were made by The Cleaning Lady, who was one of the guests. Also, never had any more delicious fish than what Albert cooked on the grill. One kind I didn't much like: I've forgotten what it was called, but it was a fish that eats lobsters! -- and it tasted almost exactly like lobster, awfully rich for me : ^ ). The other one was quite heavenly!

The fish that Albert cooks are ones that have been caught either by him or one of his diving buddies. He and Rick and others go diving from Rick's boat, spearfishing.

I'd been working all day on the reiki manuals; hadn't eaten a thing, so I was voraciously hungry. I filled myself with considerable amounts of noodles-and-veggies and rice, one slice of garlic bread, and a small amount of fish. Not a bite of corn, can you believe it?


AT TEN O'CLOCK we all got in a couple vehicles and went to the beach for a fireworks display. What a wonderful experience -- all those colored lights exploding in the sky, with waves coming up on the beach, and palm-tree silhouettes created by the flashes of light! We sat right on the beach. I was on a blanket with Januaria and her children, and a couple other guests.

People here really go for fireworks. At Donna's house, we had been hearing them for a couple days and nights already; sometimes a continuous crackling of them, like the sound of bacon frying in a skillet (magnified a few thousand times), for maybe a whole minute at once. There on the beach, I heard a guy talking about his brother's fireworks and a law that has just gone into effect recently.

The law is, you have to buy a permit (for $25) in order to buy fireworks now; and there's a limit to how many you can buy on one permit. The guy was saying, "My brother used to buy about two hundred and fifty thousand fireworks every year.....and now it'll cost him a hundred and twenty-five bucks just in permits!!" I wondered what the price of 250,000 fireworks would be -- and what would it take to haul that many, and how big a place to store them, and how much time to explode them all -- but I didn't ask.

The display that night was very beautiful. It was over in half an hour: just right to leave people wanting a little bit more, which is really the perfect way. I think it's the perfect way to do most things in life; and so many of us have a habit of doing things until we're nearly sick of them!

We all stayed on the beach for a while, where some people were setting off their own fireworks. Then Rick and Donna and I left and came home. The next day I immersed myself in the writing again, and didn't come out until the following Saturday, when we went back to Albert's and Januaria's for dinner and a last visit (before they left for Switzerland).

It's always neat arriving at people's houses here, because you can tell, by the number of shoes outside the door, how many people are in the house. Albert and Januaria usually seem to have lots of shoes on the doorstep! They're very magnetic people and they enjoy having guests. Saturday night, most of the people were the same as on New Year's Eve (one of them had been there ever since!) -- except for a woman named Summer, and her two young children. Summer lives in Kalaheo and is a massage therapist.

The first thing Januaria said, after introducing me to Summer, was, "We have about an hour for reiki before I have to start making dinner!" And off we went, she and I, to the bedroom for reiki. Of course it's almost impossible for me to do just an hour of reiki -- and we actually did about 90 minutes. Then Januaria went to fix dinner and I did another reiki session, with Summer. When we emerged, everyone else had already eaten, and Lucinda had arrived. Januaria had cooked pasta with chunks of lobster. She served it in a red sauce -- not swimming in sauce, just enough to lightly cover all the noodles, which was very good. The lobster was good too, but so very rich! How can anyone eat an entire lobster tail? (I've done it myself, more than once, but that was many years ago : ^ )

I ate the pasta and lobster, talking with Summer. Then she left for home, and I went into the other room, where Rick and Donna and 2 other guests were watching, on the most enormous TV screen I've ever seen, an undersea video shot by one of the guests. Great panoramas of the ocean floor, and caves and archways of coral, and many different kinds of fishes and other creatures!

Then Albert started cooking fish on the outdoor grill; brought in a sizeable pan full, and we ate fish -- with a green salad that Januaria had made. The fish was called Uku in Hawaiian, Grey Snapper in English. White flesh, masterfully cooked by Albert, juicy and tender, with a wonderful smoky taste from the fire.


I SAT BY Albert at the table this time, and he was telling me about their home in Switzerland; how he felt such good energy there, and also at this house on the south shore of Kauai. He said he had explored the whole island, and this was the most perfect place on it for him. Being on the west of the island always gave him tremendous energy, he said; and the north shore always drained him. He liked to go there because of the spectacular beauty, but he always came home feeling drained of energy! And this house, in Poipu, had just the right energy for him. He felt totally at peace, nourished and at home here.

He said it was that way at both his homes: "I never want to leave Switzerland to come here; I have to make myself do it.....and then, after a few days here, I don't want to go back to Switzerland!" Yes, I know the feeling -- and, like the fireworks, it's much better to end it while you're still wanting more, instead of continuing until you're tired of it.

It was that way for me, leaving their home that night; I certainly didn't want to go. In the car, we were barely away from the house when I realized I had left my jacket there. I've worn the jacket so few times since arriving on Kauai -- but this day had been cold, and it was pouring rain when we had left Kalaheo. Donna circled back around and let me out to get the jacket.

The door of the house was still open. Januaria was straightening things up inside. I called to her from the doorway; she had already found my jacket, and she brought it to me so I wouldn't have to take off my shoes. Along with the jacket, she gave me one last hug. "See, there's a good reason you had to come back," she said.

I agreed. It was a good reason.



Chapter 12: Veggies!!

AFTER 8 WEEKS without vegetables, I decided it was time to start eating them again. More accurately, my body decided. The whole final week, I kept envisioning the wonderful bunches of green onions they sell at the Farmers' Market. It was clear that 8 weeks were enough without veggies. It became even clearer when, on 2 consecutive days of that final week, I found myself gobbling frozen brownies and twig tea at midnight! Delicious, homemade brownies with chunks of walnuts and dark chocolate throughout -- leftovers from one of the Kauai Concert Association concerts, over which Donna presides.

There was something in those brownies that my body was craving so desperately, the first night I couldn't even wait for them to thaw. Standing in the kitchen, I had 2 of them eaten before the water for tea was boiling. I ate 2 more with the tea. What an interesting combo: frozen brownie and hot tea! It was very pleasant. The next night, I felt the start of the craving early enough to remove a pair of brownies from the freezer in time to thaw. I had thought 2 would be enough, and then ended up eating 2 more frozen, making a second cup of tea to go with them.

I'm fascinated by patterns of eating. It's so easy to establish a routine of eating some amount of pseudo-food every day, if the stuff is within reach. Pretty soon I'm doing it not so much because I really want it, only because it's become a habit; and my whole vibration and energy level sink down, and I become more automaton than human. Then it becomes really difficult to break the habit and pull up out of that low vibration again. Very difficult to stop eating the pseudo-foods, as long as they are in the immediate environment.

Take them out of the environment and the craving for them disappears right away. Then it's easy, once I'm eating nothing but clean-burning, real food, to become human again and to raise my vibration.

Since coming to Kaua'i, almost 6 months ago, I've eaten very little pseudo-food, and only on a few occasions. Since the 2nd of January, for almost 8 weeks -- until the brownie incident -- I had eaten nothing but rice and beans with a little miso and seaweed, a tiny bit of fresh daikon for a couple weeks, and then a thin slice or 2 of pickled daikon every day for a few weeks. This pattern seemed to be very good for me, especially to keep me focused and productive on the writing (which, besides distant Reiki, was all I was doing). It kept me feeling very centered, very aware and intuitive. Also, the blood vessel that had often showed itself in my left eye suddenly disappeared -- the eyes began looking beautifully clear and sharp. And the deep lines in my lower lip (indicating pockets of stagnation in the large intestine) began to be less deep and to fade away.

Another thing I noticed: Eating only rice and beans, I was eating LESS rice than when I had been eating rice and beans plus vegetables! For a time, I was eating exactly HALF the amount of rice I had eaten before; it was all I needed. Then it increased to 2/3 as much as I'd been eating before.

Anyway, the brownie incident: 2 nights in a row, 4 brownies per night, at midnight even. This was the first processed sugar, first chocolate, first white flour (or any flour, in fact), first shortening (I'm guessing), first pseudo-food of any kind that I had eaten in many weeks -- and the only noticeable aftereffect was a very slight feeling of sluggishness when I awoke the next morning. Even that quickly disappeared. It's remarkable how well the body can neutralize these poisons after a period of good, clean eating (and when the poisons do not become a routine presence).


THURSDAY IS Farmers' Market day in Hanapepe, about a 15-minute drive away. The Market starts at 3:00. I left the house about 1:15, to get to the highway at 1:30, having no idea how long it might take to get a ride. It was a fabulously beautiful, sunny day. All morning I'd been singing, "Oh What a Beautiful Mornin' " (as I frequently do).

I got down to the highway and positioned myself where drivers could easily stop to pick me up; where the road widens into parking spaces in front of Steve's Mini-Mart, just before the traffic light. I stuck my thumb in the air and started thinking, "Thank you for giving me a ride....thank you for giving me a ride...." Seemingly, no one was taking the message. I made sure I was smiling and making eye contact, and tried sending out a cord of energy from the hara (just below the navel) and connecting with the hara of drivers. Same response: keep driving!

After a few minutes of this, something else came to me: I began to visualize drawing the Reiki Master symbol in the space of my body. I was about halfway through it when I noticed that someone had already stopped! A young, black guy in a green Jeep, with dreadlocks and Reggae music. Wonderful! I jumped in, told him where I was going, and we were on the way. He seemed like a very nice guy, but was not the least bit talkative. The only thing I found out about him was that he lived in Kapa'a. We had an excellent ride, though, and he delivered me right to the park where the Market is held.

I was exactly one hour early. Only 3 or 4 of the vendors had even arrived yet. They were just setting up their merchandise. The nearest people were ones I had never seen before. I stepped over to ask what time it was, and a young woman in a ball cap told me surreptitiously to pick out what I would like and she would bag it for me and put it aside, and I could get it after the Market opened. Surreptitiously because, had anyone else seen her doing this, she could probably have been sentenced to a firing squad. It's forbidden for vendors even to let the customers catch a glimpse of the produce before the Market opens; they are required to cover everything with cloths as they put it on their tables, and the cloths are to remain in place until that magical moment when the Director of the Market steps to the center of the grassy field and blows her athletic whistle! And then the stampede begins: all the people clumped in front of their favorite vendors begin pushing and elbowing, trying to see, in the instant the cloths are taken off, exactly what produce they want, and to snatch it before anyone else can. It's not a pretty sight. I suspect it's exactly the same kind of energy that permeated the Oklahoma Land Rush.

Anyway, on this day I conspired to have this young woman put some things aside for me, and then I went off to explore Hanapepe for an hour.


I FOUND ALMOST exactly an hour's worth of exploring: a stop at the art gallery of a man named Arius Hopman, and one at a gift shop whose name I don't recall.

Mr. Hopman bills himself as Kauai's Foremost Landscape Watercolorist. I must admit, his gallery was full of beautiful work. He has quite an impressive history, too. It was described on a placard in the gallery:
    Arius Hopman was born and raised in an artist family in Kashmir, India. His mother became a world reknown artist who was commissioned to sculpt Mahatma Gandhi (twice from life, exhibit in Smithsonian), the Shah of Iran (bronze equestrian), Prime Minister Nehru, Indira Gandhi, Maharajas and others. Arius grew up with paint and clay as his playthings and soon became proficient in both media. He studied art in college. In Japan, he learned to paint to capture the essence and to paint with a sumi brush. In his travels, he has sold art in Japan, Mexico, Europe, and in the USA.

    On Kauai, Arius has dedicated himself to the mastery of watercolor....

There's more, and you can find it also on his website: http://hopmanart.com/. Besides the artist himself, I was the only person in the gallery, and he very kindly took the time to show me around and to explain the Giclee digital reproduction process that he uses to make prints of his watercolors and photos.

I went from there to a gift shop across the street, which had a lot of beautiful greeting cards, many of them reproductions of old botanical paintings, especially different varieties of orchids; also old maps and many other things. There were 2 tourists in the shop, and the owner asked if they were going to the Farmers' Market. This was the first they had heard of it. The owner encouraged them to go, and so did I. Then she and I started talking about veggies. She asked if I had ever eaten the chayote greens. I had not, and she recommended them.

By the time we talked and I looked around the shop a bit and bought a card, it was time for the Market to open. I went back and got a few things, including chayote greens, picked up the bag the woman had put aside for me earlier, and started up the road toward Kalaheo.

It really was a spectacular day; picture-perfect, heavenly. I crossed the highway, to be on the right side for getting a ride, and very soon passed -- of all things -- a cactus! Taller than I was; something in the prickly pear family, I would guess, with quite elongated pads. It seemed to be calling out to me: "Here, take some nopales, I have so many! Help yourself!" So I did. I took 4 beautiful, tender, young pads and put them in the bag with my other veggies. Thank-you thank-you, dear cactus!

I went on up the road, where it curves around and off to the right is the Big Save supermarket and Ace Hardware and some other businesses. Went past them and across the road that comes from the south, and stationed myself there by the Yield sign, where the southern road merges onto the highway toward Kalaheo.

It was SUCH a beautiful day, and I was so happy to have vegetables again. I had also bought a bunch of plantains and 2 papayas. I was delighted just to be standing in the sunlight and fresh air on this beautiful little island on this beautiful day. It was one of those moments when time ceases to exist and you realize the absolute perfection of everything just as it is. You realize there's nothing in the world that needs to be done, everything is already exactly perfect. All you have to do is enjoy it.

I just stood there enjoying it for a bit, watching cars pass. Then I started thinking, if I was going to get a ride back to Kalaheo, maybe I'd better do the Master symbol again. I started mentally drawing it -- and, just as before, someone stopped before I could even finish! A large, ruddy, rounded guy in an old white pickup truck. Again, with Reggae on the radio. It looked as if the truck could possibly fall apart, just dismantle itself, at any moment. I opened the door and the guy moved some things out of the way, and I got in. I couldn't help mentioning what a beautiful day it was. The man agreed. Everything was right in his world, he said, because he'd gotten to go fishing in the morning. He spoke with a Canadian-sounding accent. I asked if he had caught some fish, and he said yes, ahi and marlin. That was the extent of our conversation, until we arrived at Kalaheo.

We just rumbled up the road in the old truck, enjoying the day and the Reggae music and the beautiful panorama: all the different shades of green, the red-red earth and black lava, the blue of the sky and the white clouds.

On the top of the dashboard, the man had a cell phone. There were 2 big holes in the dashboard, where it had apparently just disintegrated, and one of these made a perfect holder for the phone. I was thinking about mentioning that, but decided not to. It was very pleasant not to say anything. Almost as if in response to my thoughts, though, the man picked up the phone and called someone; said maybe a dozen words into it, put it back in its holder, and we continued on in silence.

Coming into Kalaheo, there was quite a sound when he pressed on the brake pedal. Sort of like the dying breath of Darth Vader. After it happened a second time, I asked what was the deal with his brakes. He said he had blown a hole in the booster, just the day before. A Japanese tourist had pulled out immediately in front of him, from behind a rock wall, and he had slammed on the brakes. "The guy sitting where you are was eating a hamburger," he said, "and suddenly his face was right against the windshield! Good thing I was only going about twenty-five miles an hour!"

I asked how much it would cost to repair his booster. He said he was thinkin' about a hundred 'n' twenty, hundred 'n' thirty. It made me very thankful that I didn't own a motor vehicle.

He let me off in front of the fire station. We wished each other well. I crossed the highway and made the half-mile walk to Donna's house, and spent the next two and a half hours preparing veggies for the week.



Chapter 13: More Adventures on the Road

THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY, I decided to go exploring in Koloa and Poipu, on the south shore. It was another gorgeous day (as most of them are). I went down to the highway in early afternoon, went across and stuck my thumb in the air. I started mentally drawing the Reiki Master symbol, curious to see whether I would be able to finish it before someone stopped to give me a ride.

I was able to finish it. Plenty of time. I drew it even a second time. Even a third. Apparently no one else was tuning into that frequency on this particular day in this particular place. All the cars and trucks and SUVs and everything else just kept on rolling past. I stood there for a half hour before deciding this was not the day for a trip to Koloa after all; it was a day for my usual walk to the highway and back, and for standing a half hour in the very warm sunshine. I couldn't fathom the cosmic reason for it, so I just accepted it and thought maybe Friday would be the day for Koloa.


THE NEXT DAY, THURSDAY, I was aiming for the Farmers' Market in Hanapepe. But, from the moment the day revealed itself, the sky was absolutely, impenetrably gray and raining. All through the morning, the sound of vertical rain just went up and down in volume, as if someone were turning a giant knob. From the window of my room, I could see the water puddling deeper and deeper, once the earth had absorbed all it could.

This was clearly not a day for getting veggies. I stayed in my room and worked at the computer. There were times when it got so dark, I was almost ready to turn on the lamp, I could barely see the keyboard.

Then, at 2:45, the rain stopped. By 3:00 there were patches of blue beginning to appear in the sky. I had one last fleeting thought of the Market, but still it didn't seem workable. I felt sure it had already been canceled because of the rain; and, if not, most of the vendors probably wouldn't go anyway; and, if they did, their produce would be gone before I could get there.

I kept working at the computer, and the sky outside my window kept getting more and more beautiful and alluring. Finally, late in the afternoon, I shut off the computer and went for a walk. It was especially enjoyable -- such a miracle that the world could be so completely shrouded in gray for most of the day, and then so suddenly beautiful again! And especially invigorating, after such a thorough cleansing of everything by the rain.


THE NEXT DAY, FRIDAY, I set out again for Koloa. Standing at the highway, drawing the Master symbol.....and, as before, getting a ride immediately. A black pickup truck this time. Another large, rounded guy behind the wheel. He was wearing mirrored sunglasses; very narrow, futuristic-looking ones: silver mirrors in a strip of black plastic that seemed to wrap almost completely around his head.

He moved several things off the floor of the passenger side -- including a large plastic bag of what I thought were gumballs of various colors -- to make room for my feet. He was from Samoa; had been on Kauai for about a year. His name was Pono. He had met his girlfriend on a visit here, and had moved here to be with her. He worked in Waimea. "I work in a cornfield all day," he said. But not yesterday. It was raining so hard, even in Waimea, they were not able to work in the field most of the day.

I asked if he knew what Reiki was. He had never heard of it before, but when I said it was a way of healing with spiritual energy, he said, "Oh, my girlfriend loves that kind of stuff!" I gave him a card and a brochure, which he said he would give to his girlfriend. He stuffed them into the ashtray of the truck. He was on his way to see his girlfriend at the moment; she worked in Koloa, at the best place there to get local food, he said. He was going there to see her and to eat, and then he was going to Lihue to pick up a very special gift for her. Today was her birthday, and he was giving her a ring, and inside the ring he was having engraved, "Will you marry me?"

What a beautiful thing to do! It gave me a good feeling.

When he wasn't working in the cornfield, Pono said, he loved to work on cars. That was really his trade. He currently owned 4 vehicles; he called them his babies. I asked why in the world he had 4 vehicles. He said people gave them to him, completely broken down, unable to move, seeming absolutely dead and hopeless -- and he brought them back to life. I should've seen this truck when he got it, he said: it was flat on the ground, no tires, engine wouldn't run, nothing. So he had rescued and resurrected it and made it a member of his family.

When he wasn't working in the cornfield or on cars, he played paintball, he said. He loved paintball fighting, and had found some friends who loved it! And his girlfriend was always worrying that he would get hurt doing it. It didn't even occur to me until much later that what I had thought were gumballs in his truck were instead paintballs -- but surely they were.

We arrived in Koloa and he pointed out to me one of his other "babies" parked on the street there. He parked the truck in the Big Save parking lot -- I was surprised that he locked it -- and we walked back to where his girlfriend worked. Even now I don't remember the name of the place. It was small, nondescript, with a sign advertising Fish and Pupus and Beer. We shook hands there. Pono went in to see his girlfriend, and I proceeded down the street.

Koloa, besides whatever houses are there and a mortuary and a gas station and a church or two, and the Big Save, is one street with tourist shops along one side of it for maybe a hundred yards. The gas station is on the corner, and going down the street that intersects from the south is one more complex of tourist shops. The road south goes to Poipu. After a few minutes in a couple shops, that was where I headed, informed by a highway sign that Kuhio Park was 2 miles and Spouting Horn was 3.

Along the way, I passed a golf course and came to a roadside stand selling "Fresh Fruits and Vegetables." How perfect, since yesterday's rain had kept me from getting to the Farmers' Market! I stopped and looked, and decided to buy a bunch of green onions and 2 Okinawa sweet potatoes (I would have bought more, but they were $2.00 a pound!). While I was getting these, some tourists arrived, who seemed quite happy to pay $1.00 a pound for a 6-and-a-quarter-pound pineapple.

I put my new treasures in the knapsack and continued on toward Poipu. Passed a tiny shopping area on the right-hand side of the road: a grocery store, a dive shop, a Mexican food take-out, a few other shops. Came to a spot with a few houses. There was a leveled area of dirt, off to the side of the highway, in front of the houses, and some weeds growing there. My eye was caught by a clump of Lamb's Quarters growing out of a pile of sand: more veggies for my knapsack! I stopped and harvested a bunch of them. Also found some wild amaranth, and would have taken it too, but it was the kind with very tough stems and big thorns. After a few puncture wounds, I decided it did not want to come with me : ^ ).


THE ROAD BRANCHED left and right. I took the right branch, toward Kuhio Park and Spouting Horn. Kuhio Park was a very domesticated, little patch of lawn with a tiny building or two (were they public restrooms? I didn't give them much attention) and some decorative rocks. At the side of the highway was an iron placard with a little story on it. Kuhio Park was named for Prince Jonah Kuhio Something-something-something (a very long, Hawaiian last name). He became a delegate to the U.S. Congress in 1900 when Hawaii was made a U.S. Territory. He was remembered for his work in protecting and championing the native Hawaiian culture in the Islands. (The main highway on Kauai is named Kuhio Highway -- surely in honor of him also.)

I followed the road on toward Spouting Horn. Right next to Kuhio Park was a hotel called the Prince Kuhio. I had a sudden intuition to see if I could leave some Reiki brochures there. Then I noticed another hotel, on the other side of the highway, also named after Kuhio (Kuhio Shores, maybe it was). And there were 2 or 3 others just ahead of me. I did some muscle-testing about leaving brochures at any or all of them.....and the Prince Kuhio was the only one that said Yes. I would stop on my way back and see about leaving some there.

More hotels.....a restaurant on the beach.....the main road going on to Spouting Horn, but I was drawn to a little road branching off, with a sign that said something about a Harbor. I took that and was very soon on the beach. I went past a parking lot with a bunch of cars, and a grassy area with barbecues and restrooms and seating for picnickers; went carefully across a stretch of lava that reached right to the water. It was very level, and looked as if it had all been poured there in the molten state, and then transformed into individual-appearing rocks when it cooled and shrank and cracked. But I didn't see any volcanoes nearby. Down the shoreline to the west, I saw the Spouting Horn: a place where the waves came slamming into a pocket of lava and shot straight up, like the spouting of a whale (only the column of water was much wider and not as high).

I crossed the lava and came to a tiny spit of sand at the ocean's edge, with more lava reaching out into the water. I took off my sandals and stood in the water -- it was only ankle-deep -- and let the sight of the ocean soothe me for a while. It was a wonderfully unique place; the lava extending into the water had a beautiful effect on the waves as they came in, breaking them into bubbly, churning foam. "Hello, Mother Ocean!" I found myself saying, "I've really missed you -- and I didn't even realize it until now." This was the first time I'd been at the beach.....I believe since early November. The last time had been with Diane, when I was staying at her house in Kapaa.

The memory of this reminds me that I got a phone call from Diane just a week or so ago. After some time on the mainland, she's now back on Kauai, making great progress regaining her health and transforming her life. She and Brian have gone separate ways and put their house up for sale. Diane is now looking for another home, and -- the best news of all -- she's been eating solid food again, for the first time in well over a year! She said her environmental sensitivities had lessened a bit also.

Now, as I write this, I do recall one, more recent time at the beach: New Year's Eve, watching fireworks with Albert and Januaria and their friends -- but that was at night and we were maybe 50 yards from the water, and watching the fireworks, of course. And, since then, my only contact with the ocean has been the distant sight of it from my bedroom window. From here, it's only a blue line on a flat canvas, at the bottom of the paler blue of sky, with green treetops reaching up between us, and miles of separation. So it was especially enlivening to stand there, bare feet in cool water, revitalized by the sight and sound and smell of the alma mater again, as she rushed in to greet the rocks and the sand.

I stood there awhile, then sat on the sand and watched the waves a bit longer while my feet dried. I put the sandals back on, and the knapsack, and started across the table of lava again, back toward the picnic area. Stopping to sit a moment and remove some sand that was rubbing the bottom of my foot, I discovered that the lava was surprisingly sharp! It was like sitting on a giant vegetable-grater! If you sat absolutely still -- and if you moved absolutely vertically when sitting down and getting up -- you were fine; but any horizontal movement would be something you'd regret.

I left the harbor and went back the way I had come, stopping at the Prince Kuhio to leave Reiki brochures. It seemed to be not so much a hotel as a condominium-like creature; maybe time-shares. Anyway, it seemed the guests were left to look after themselves. There was a tiny office with a big rack of tourist brochures on the wall, and a desk, and a directory with names and phone numbers to call in case of various problems -- and no sign of a person anywhere nearby. Just above the large rack full of brochures were 2 empty plastic holders -- just the right size for my Reiki brochures. I took a handful out of the knapsack and left them in one of the holders, and went back outside and on my way.

About halfway back to Koloa, some rain started to fall. Just a tiny bit of mist; it was very refreshing. It became heavier and heavier as I walked. It became a nice gentle rain. I had a jacket and cap and umbrella in the knapsack, and I left them there. It was very pleasant to walk in the rain. It must have been after 6:00 by then; the sun was quite low in the sky, making great golden streaks of color in the western clouds.

When I got nearer Koloa, a car pulled up beside me and stopped -- right in the highway, in the traffic lane. Two women inside. They asked if I knew where The Beach House was. There was something very familiar about that name, as if I should know where it was; but I didn't even know what it was. And yet I said to them, "The Beach House -- is that a restaurant?" Yes, they said, it's a place to eat and watch the sun go down.

I had the strangest feeling that I did know the place.....and yet my conscious mind could not quite get hold of it. It was like, when you wake up from a dream, and you try to remember bits of the dream, but they evaporate just in the instant you're about to grasp them.

I might even have been able to do it, if another car had not come up behind them at that moment and slammed on the brakes and blasted the horn and roared around them. But that disintegrated any threads of consciousness that could have made the connection for me. I was left standing there, probably looking very mentally challenged, with rain dripping off me, telling them I couldn't help them.

Then, as soon as they drove off, it was crystal clear in my mind: The Beach House was the restaurant I had seen shortly before the harbor! Well, I prayed that someone would get them there in time for the last of the sunset; it was very nearly finished already.

It was almost dark by the time I arrived back in Koloa. I was all set to follow Pono's recommendation of the eating place -- but I got there to find it was closed. Closed at 6:00. I looked inside; it seemed to be not a restaurant, only a take-out. There was a refrigerator case and signs saying "California Roll" and "Sashimi," among others.

There were several other places to pick from. I had glanced at a few of them earlier. They all seemed quite expensive, even the pizza place: $18 for a 12-inch pizza!

Right next to the place that Pono had recommended was a Mexican place. Without a second thought, I knew that was the one for me. I went in. It was very small and cozy: a central aisle marked off with strings of hanging beads, and a few tables on either side. Two waitresses, one for either side; one with blonde hair, one with black. I was greeted and seated by the black-haired one.

Quite a substantial menu they had; and everything looking quite expensive here too. Except the one thing out of all that was most suitable for me: the Veggie Burrito was only $5.95! And, when it arrived, it filled the whole plate. A huge flour tortilla stuffed with beans and rice, covered with a mountain of shredded lettuce and tomato and black olives -- and some enchilada sauce, oddly enough -- and a scoop of guacamole. And a basket of totopos on the side.

I was ravenously hungry! The burrito and the chips disappeared in a very short time. Still, it must have been right at 7:30 when I left the restaurant.

Of course it was fully dark outside.....and there was no place that looked good for getting a ride. No place where people could pull off the road and stop. I started hiking, knowing that getting a ride on the highway itself would be completely out of the question. The road sign across from the gas station said Waimea was 16 miles. I was pretty sure it was about 12 miles beyond Kalaheo -- so figured Kalaheo was 4 miles from Koloa. I figured, in the dark, it would probably take an hour and a half to walk 4 miles. Figured I would get to Kalaheo about 9:00 o'clock.


HOW MANY TIMES IN 4 MILES can you sing "The Long and Winding Road"? I wasn't counting, but I can safely say, "A bunch." I sang it and half-remembered another nighttime hike, another long and winding road, in Colorado many years ago.

It must have been 1979, possibly 1980. Walking through the night, from Grand Lake to Granby. As I remember, that road was 17 miles. I should remember it pretty well; I spent the summers of '75 and '76 living in Granby, working with a highway survey crew, and driving to and from Grand Lake many a night, for entertainment. It was a fun road to drive. But why in the world was I walking it in the middle of the night?

This memory was a little bit like the one of The Beach House: hard to get hold of consciously. In this case, because it was so far back in time. Walking from Koloa to Kalaheo this night, I began remembering just isolated images from that long-ago walk in Colorado.

I remembered, for sure, the feeling of it: the empty, black highway, the white moonlight -- there was much more of a moon that night in Colorado. It must have been almost full, because I remember it lighting the whole countryside. This moon above Koloa was just a few days old, a slender crescent, like the outline of a bowl holding the black moon. Plus, it was dimmed by clouds, making a very dark world for walking.
    The long and winding road
    that leads to your door
    will never disappear
    I've seen that road before
    It always leads me here
    Lead me to your door.... *
I remembered singing it that night in Colorado, too. The road there led to the door of someone I had been in love with; no, someone I had been in love without. But, for a long time, I thought it was with. I remembered singing that song to the moon that night: wailing it, like a broken-hearted coyote.

I remembered even the shirt I was wearing: a Pendleton wool, one my father had given me when he could no longer wear it. It was a very fine grid pattern, colors of willow-green and light yellow, and maybe just a few threads of red here and there. It was very close-fitting even on me. A very warm shirt, and I surely had a T-shirt under it, and the time of year had to be summer (though maybe the end of summer) -- and I remembered being quite cold on the walk. Like, REALLY cold. What I didn't remember was, Why in the world was I walking from Grand Lake to Granby in the middle of the night?

But then, as I walked from Koloa to Kalaheo, 20-some years later, I began to piece it together. It had to be at least 1978, after I had got rid of my car (by rolling it down the side of a mountain). That's why I was walking. But what was I doing in Granby and Grand Lake then?

I remembered going to and from Granby on the train. Still don't remember where I was coming from or going to -- but I remember getting off the train in Granby. The station was down below the highway. I remember climbing a steep bank to get up to the highway, and walking to the motel where I had lived with the survey crew those previous summers. The motel was owned by the parents of the girl I was in love without. That was where I had met her. But what was I doing there in '78?

It wasn't '78, it had to be either '79 or '80.....when we were doing Radio Stew in Boulder. Yes, because that was the reason I was there -- not Radio Stew exactly, but the radio! That was during my "Artistic" period, the first years of it; when I still believed I was going to grab the world by the tail as a fiction writer and shake some sense into it! And I had written a few radio dramas, and we were doing Radio Stew, a shocking weekly comedy show (at least we thought it was funny!).

One of my friends and I had created a musical version of Casablanca: a melding of the movie script and a collection of music from the 1930s and '40s that fit the story like a glove. It played the old heartstrings like a violin! We wanted to do it onstage, of course, but also figured the initial version might be more feasible on the radio. We would get the world's attention with the radio version, which we could produce ourselves, then the big theatrical producers would be elbowing each other aside to sign a contract with us for the stage version. And that was why I went to Granby.

It may even be --yes, probably -- that I made a special trip from Boulder to Granby and back for just that reason. I went there to see the father of the girl I had been in love without. This girl was an actress and singer, and I wanted her to play Ilsa in the radio version of Copacabana (which is what we had named our musical rendition of Casablanca).

She had gotten married and moved to Los Angeles (where her fledgling husband was trying to make a name for himself in -- guess what -- the radio biz; how's that for a strange coincidence?). She no longer wanted any contact with me, which I knew very well. But I would have attempted the Houdini-in-the-water-tank-with-handcuffs trick if there was a chance of getting her to play Ilsa Lund in our production of Copacabana. And she was just enough of an Artist herself (and an ego) that I thought she would have a hard time turning it down.

So I went to see her father. I had spoken with him on the phone from Boulder -- and he would not even give me her address. It was not his fault; he was a very nice guy, merely refusing to double-cross his own daughter, who had told him not to give it to me. So we worked out a compromise. I would take him a copy of the script and a recording of the songs, which he would send to her -- and there would be no need for me to know her address.

Looking back from here, the outrageousness of the whole thing seems crystal clear. Did I really believe this could possibly go anywhere? And couldn't I just have put the package in the mail to her father? Why was it necessary to take a train to Granby and hand-deliver it?


MAYBE I DIDN'T TRUST the Postal Service in those days. Maybe I thought, if I went in person and spoke to him and put the package into his hands, it would generate some kind of magic that would get his daughter to agree to play the part. Certainly I was living in the hallucination that, if she would take the part, if we would end up working together.....well, what? That she would fall in love with me and leave her husband?

No, not that. There was no hallucination deep enough to make me believe that. I didn't really believe anything, I was just so desperate for any contact with her, my imagination had been totally commandeered by the most insane sentiments. It would not be an exaggeration to say I was truly possessed by my illusion of her and my desire for her.

The memory of all this came back like puzzle pieces fitting together; and surely it happened only because my nocturnal hike was the catalyst. Because it reminded me of that other walk, that other long road, 20+ years ago.
    Many times I've been alone
    and many times I've cried
    Any way you'll never know
    the many ways I've tried *
I took the train to Granby. I spoke with her father and gave him the package to send her. I stayed overnight at the motel. Why was I out wailing at the moon, walking the 17 miles from Grand Lake, shivering in my shirtsleeves, in the middle of the night?

I remembered hitching a ride up to Grand Lake in the afternoon; standing by the road, where it heads north from Highway 40, and being picked up by a guy in a van. I guess I wanted to go up there and just walk around and reminisce, and eat supper at the Corner Cupboard, and sit in the bar and have an after-dinner brandy or something -- just to remember old times. Just to make myself good and miserable! (I was a masochist on auto-pilot in those days.)

I'm sure that's what I did. And then, just as in Koloa, it was nonsense even to think of getting a ride at night.....so I started hiking. It was only 17 miles, and mostly downhill. I walked everywhere in those days. I walked easily 3 or 4 miles every day. I loved walking; I could do 17 miles in 4 hours and give it barely a thought. But apparently I had forgotten how cold the nights got in the mountains, even in summer. The Pendleton shirt wasn't quite enough to be comfortable.

Well, I survived anyway, that's the main thing. I remember singing that song to the moon; and how beautiful and peaceful the natural world looked in the moonlight; how quiet it was: nothing but the sound of my boots on the highway. I remember getting back down to the place where the van had picked me up; and what an incredibly long way it seemed from there into town and the motel! That was the part that seemed endless! In reality, it was probably not even a mile.

Strangely enough, I don't remember arriving at the motel and going to bed. I was probably asleep 15 seconds after I got in the door; that's why I don't remember. Nor do I have any idea what time I got there, how long I slept, or anything I did the next day before getting on the train. I vaguely remember making my way down the steep slope from the highway to the train station -- and it seems it was in the afternoon.

Need I mention that the girl of my dreams showed no interest in doing the radio production? Maybe she actually didn't like the script, or maybe the whole idea. Maybe there was just nothing in the world alluring enough to bring her back into proximity with me. As it happened, the musical version of Casablanca never got off the ground anyway. There was one little detail we had not foreseen: the impossibility of getting permission to use some of the songs we wanted....
    And still they lead me back
    to the long winding road
    You left me standing here
    a long long time ago
    Don't keep me waiting here
    Lead me to your door *

AT ONE POINT ON THE TRIP TO KALAHEO, it seemed that every automobile on the Island must have gone past. There were zillions of them from both directions. There were only a handful of spots along the way where anyone could have pulled over and picked me up, even if they wanted to, so I knew it wasn't going to happen. I was perfectly content to walk anyway; but I did get a little tired of the lights from the cars, and the noise of them.

The walking brought back another memory, too: of being with Z in Mexico; of the Sunday afternoon we took a bus from La Paz, somewhere way the heck up the coast; of playing in the Gulf, but only for a little while because she insisted there were fish biting her legs and she had to get out of the water; of waiting and waiting and waiting for the bus back to La Paz, and finally realizing we had somehow missed it; of getting a ride with 2 very young couples in an open Jeep: lots of sun and wind, all the way back to La Paz, and then being let out of the Jeep at a point that turned out to be miles from town; of walking and walking for what seemed an eternity, still in the hot sun, on a road that finally, magically, became the malecón. And, again, it felt as if the final bit of the trek, from there up the hill to home, was longer than all the rest put together.

* "The Long and Winding Road" (Paul McCartney / John Lennon)



Chapter 14: A Change in the Air?

YES, I'VE BEEN FEELING IT. I've been feeling it's time to look again for a place to live.

I put an ad on the Hawaii Healing Arts Network mailing list:

yours truly


GENTLE HEALER
Would like to exchange work for a place to live and give healing. I'm a teacher of Usui Reiki Ryoho, a simple, natural method of using universal energy for healing and spiritual awakening. I could exchange caretaking, gardening, writing, editing, web design, macrobiotic cooking, or other work.

This mailing list has 380 subscribers on Kauai, and 1500+ total. I figured the other 1120+ were elsewhere in Hawaii -- but the first response I got was from New York City! Then I got one from Kona, on the Big Island. That was the day of my trek to Poipu and back. So there were also thoughts of Kona dancing around my mind as I walked home that night.

I'd written back immediately, then found a map and located Kona on the western shore. I was wondering about the astrological aspects for me there, since it was astrology that had finalized my decision to come to Kauai. I replayed the mental tape of my conversation with Julian, the astrologer: he saying, Hawaii is the best place for you; I saying, Which island?; he saying, The farther west, the better -- so that would be Kauai. Then he had also said there might not be enough people for me on Kauai, that Oahu might actually be better.

But I felt no pull to Oahu. I was in fact headed for Maui until several days before my departure, when I got such powerful feelings about Kauai that I changed my plan.

Now, looking back -- and looking at a map of the Islands -- I wonder, Was it even necessary for me to ask which island? Hawaii is the best place for you, is what he said -- and, on the map, the island with Kona on its western coast is Hawaii. It's not called The Big Island (and it has always seemed strange to me that people refer to it as that, though I understand why they do it). The name of the island, pure and simple, is Hawaii. And, The farther west, the better, he said. I look at the map, and the westernmost point on the island of Hawaii is.....Kona. The land even juts out, right at that point, well beyond the rest of the shoreline!

Of course it occurred to me that maybe I was manipulating things to make them fit what currently appealed to me. So I just let this rattle around in the back of my mind and set off for Poipu, and let it bubble up now and then spontaneously, and just observed it.


THE NEXT DAY, SATURDAY, I had an appointment with a woman named Ginger, in Lihue. I've been looking for a location, for a Reiki Master in Canada who would like to come to Kauai and teach workshops. His name is Dave King. He's one of very few people in the world, outside Japan, who has learned an early form of Usui Reiki (called Usui-Do) from a student of a student of Usui; who has also learned Reiki personally from a student of Hayashi (a Mr. Tatsumi); and who has met and received information on Reiki from several Japanese students who learned from Usui himself.

Dave was very helpful to me when I was revising my manuals recently, and he mentioned the desire to come to Kauai and teach a workshop called Taoist Sacred Space. It sounded like something I would be very interested in learning, and I told him I would see if I could find a good location and enough students to allow him to come. He liked the idea, and said he could also teach Usui-Do while he was here. So I've been looking for a location and students for him.

He wanted a barn with a piece of natural land adjacent. I recently heard from someone who said this woman Ginger had just the place. I took her phone number and called, and she said yes, she did have just the place. It was very wild and natural. It had the vibration of Old Hawaii, she said. And it was right in Lihue, of all places, just barely off the highway!

She told me the road to turn on, and said to take an immediate left from there, down a gravel road a half mile, and I would be at her barn. I told her I'd be hitchhiking, so it was hard to be precise about the time, but I would aim to get there between 9:30 and 10:00 Saturday morning.


THE BED FELT SO GOOD after my long hike the night before! My legs really were not happy about getting up and walking again. But I had made the appointment, and off we went.

Standing down at the highway with my thumb in the air, I got a ride from my next-door neighbors, Kent and Lori, in their shiny black SUV! They were headed for Lihue, and we had a good conversation on the way. They asked how my Reiki practice was going. I told them I had several students in other countries, but had connected with very few people here as yet.

Kent said he thought it would be tough to get people interested in Reiki here, especially any of the natives. There's a lot of resentment about "outsiders" coming here at all, and a lot of racial prejudice, he said. This was not exactly a revelation to me; I had heard it before, and it was very similar to what I found in Bali: the natives have become greatly dependent on the money of foreign tourists, and yet they resent the presence of the tourists. It must be acknowledged, also, that a lot of tourists bring resentment on themselves. A lot of them are loud, obnoxious, piggish, demanding, and take it for granted that they can get anything they want, anytime, anywhere, by flashing their money in people's faces.

When people like this arrive in their shiny airplanes, treat the natives like dirt for a week or a month, and then fly back to wherever they came from, of course anyone would naturally resent them. The natives hate being treated like servants. They hate the fact that they have become servants. Whether conscious of it or not, I believe what they really hate at the deepest level is that they, like the people they serve, have become hooked on the modern contrivances of materialistic culture: the TV sets, the refrigerators, the shiny cars, the DVDs, the drugs and pesticides and chemical fertilizers and microwave "meals" and all the other baloney that is enslaving them and making the whole world sicker and sicker. They're hooked on it, like all the rest of us, because it's what has been presented to us since birth, presented as reality -- and yet, deep inside, we all have the native wisdom that this is not reality and that it's destroying the world.

In Bali, at least there's the appearance that the natives are still in control. Balinese culture is tremendously cohesive, and the Indonesian government takes great pleasure in making things difficult for foreigners. Let's not kid ourselves, there is still nothing (or very little) that money can't buy, but at least the government can make you jump through their hoops on the way to the cash register. And they can simply evict you from their country any time they feel like it.

Hawaii is a different story. The natives here watched foreigners come in and commandeer the place, and jam their foreign culture and religion and language down native throats. And foreign government. Because of the natural environment, things look a lot different here than on the mainland -- but it's still the good old U.S. of A., and there's a lot of resentment about that itself. There's a growing movement of people who want to restore a native Hawaiian government. They want us haoles to be under their control for a change. There are even "Hawaiian government" bumper stickers.

I was not surprised by what Kent was saying. Bali had prepared me for the native situation. I had figured, as in Bali, that nearly all my clients and students would be either tourists or foreigners who had settled here. But what I was learning that did surprise me was how few tourists there are. According to Donna, the Christmas season is pretty much IT for Kauai. She says the hotels count their money after Christmas, to see if they can stay in business until the next Christmas or not.

Of course I take all these things with a grain of salt (or is that sand?). If you talk to a hundred people, you'll get a hundred different descriptions of any situation. It seems to me, in reality, we all attract exactly what we need, wherever we are. The best thing we can do is r-e-l-a-x and pay attention -- and sometimes what comes to us is a message to go somewhere else.

I had been holed up in my room, writing-writing, since about Thanksgiving. I was now poking my nose out into the world, sniffing for Reiki clients and students, and for a place to live. I had put out hundreds of brochures (even offering free Reiki treatments during the month of December) and gotten almost zero response. I had put out a second ad for a place to live -- and got an offer from Kona. Now, as we rode to Lihue on this Saturday morning, Kent was saying to me: "I think you'd have a much better time establishing a Reiki practice in a place like Kona...."

I said, "Kona!? You mean, on the Big Island?" Yes, he said, and began telling me why: Kona had a well-established community of healers already, Reiki was known and accepted there; and the overall consciousness of the place was more on my kind of wavelength: people were into spiritual things, there were health food stores and vegetarian restaurants, there were lots more tourists than on Kauai, as well as a large population of non-native residents. Kona would also be a much easier place for me to get around on foot, he said.

This was all very welcome information to me; and Kent is a native of the Big Island, with his family still living there, so I figured his assessment of the place would be pretty accurate. It impressed me especially that, of all possible places, he would spontaneously recommend Kona -- knowing nothing of the email I had received from there just the day before! I have learned to pay attention when things like this happen, because they are usually big neon signposts along the road for me. Another reason it was so impressive was that only yesterday I had been reminded of how difficult it is to live without a car on Kauai; that it's a major excursion to go 4 miles from home and back in a day.

I thanked him very much for the suggestion. I told him then about the ad I had placed and the response from Kona the day before. We got to Lihue and he took me to the road that led to Ginger's place. We were looking for the gravel road going left immediately off it.....but the first road we found was quite a way farther, beyond a big curve.

I was thinking that Ginger and I sure had different concepts of immediately. Anyway, this must be the road. It was the first one we saw. There was a gate across it and a NO TRESPASSING sign (and Ginger had mentioned a NO TRESPASSING sign). Kent let me out of the car, and I thanked him and squeezed through a space in the gate and was on my way.

Ginger had said the road went straight to her barn in half a mile. But, as soon as I got through the gate, the road branched in 2 directions. The one going straight ahead seemed definitely the "main" road, so I took it. It went uphill a bit -- I was thinking that Ginger had said the road went down to her barn -- and curved to the right. I kept going, past some equipment and a place for working on vehicles, past a little shed. I came to a second gate. Surely this is not the right place -- but I didn't know where else to go. I went on, following the road through a field; through a third gate. Finally, with nothing but more road ahead of me, and some very big, industrial-looking buildings in the distance, I convinced myself to turn around and go back.

I went back to the first gate and took the other branch of the road -- far enough to believe that it was nothing but a road around a field, leading nowhere. Went back through the first gate, to the road leading to the highway. Went back to the highway -- and there, exactly as Ginger had said, was the immediate road going down. It went down so abruptly, I had somehow not seen it before, even though I was looking for it.

I STARTED DOWN it, and there indeed was the NO TRESPASSING sign. And very soon I came upon some buildings, and a woman working outside, who turned out to be Ginger. She looked very plain and natural, very earthy, maybe 60 years old, brown shirt, brown eyes. I apologized for being late. I told her about not seeing her road, and about my hike in the country up above. She got wide-eyed and said, "Ooooohhhh, those people are very unfriendly, too!" I was glad I hadn't met them.

She began showing me her place. She had a house and a few other buildings, and a rustic wooden deck outside by the creek, with a roof that had a tree growing through it. The whole place was a sanctuary of undisturbed Nature, with the edge of Lihue just on the other side of a rock wall up the hillside from her house. A magical, peaceful place, in the very shadow of the city! She had acquired it 8 months ago. "It just fell into my lap," she said; and she figured the Universe had appointed her to be its caretaker.

She was planning to make a few camping spaces for guests ("The Europeans love to camp out when they come here") -- and there was a building up above, right by the highway, that she was going to make into a restaurant. Otherwise she was leaving everything as natural as possible.

She told me about her communication with Nature Spirits. They had requested that she make a portion of the property off-limits to humans, where the Devas could pursue their activities undisturbed. She had done this, and even made it an area of impenetrable vegetation, to guarantee that no humans could go there.

She showed me the grass on the hillside in front of her house. It was the same tropical grass I had walked through for miles the night before, from Poipu to Kalaheo -- only here it was very short. It was lying pretty much flat against the ground, in fact. She had been here 8 months and had never cut it, Ginger said. She didn't like the violent energy and the noise of lawn mowers or weed-whackers or any other motorized gadgets; and the grass didn't like being cut. So she had made a deal with the Nature Spirits: if they would keep the grass from growing taller, she would promise never to cut it.

She said she lived 4 years in a different place, and there she had a meadow. She showed the Nature Spirits the maximum height she wanted the grass there -- maybe 16 inches -- and says it never grew beyond that, in 4 years; that it would bend and interweave at that height!

She told me about her very first experience with Nature Spirits, in her previous home. It had occurred to her one day that the big fruit tree beside her house had never had blossoms or fruit on it, and she just said to the tree, "Why don't you have any fruit on you?" And she heard the tree answer: "The man said he would cut me down if I dropped fruit on his roof."

Ginger was totally sympathetic with the tree, and assured it that she would like it to bear fruit and that she would certainly not cut it down or harm it. She really suspected that this whole conversation had taken place only in her imagination, and soon forgot all about it. Then, a few weeks later, she was shocked and delighted to find the tree covered with blossoms one morning. The blossoms turned into giant pomelos (picture the biggest grapefruit you've ever seen, then double the size of it), and she said not a single one of them ever dropped on the roof. Even in terrible windstorms, she said, nothing came loose; the tree would actually hold itself flat against the roof, as protection from the wind!



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