I wrote this bit of prose just before I flew to Oahu and Mouna Farm:
like a monarch/sensing home/i let the current/lift and carry me/across the ocean/on the winds of change
I like that I am eternally optimistic, always open to possibility. I’ve had many adventures by hoping and believing the best of situations and people. Those adventures have sometimes included disappointments and heartache, and that’s okay. That’s the full spectrum of living out this human experience. In this 3-D reality I can’t control everything that happens, but I AM free to create my own story out of it all.
As I grow in my self mastery, I more often feel a calm assurance that my path is right and it’s leading me home. I’ve still got a lot to learn about the finer nuances, and so I falter and need to course correct, but that’s no longer so upsetting, because I’m loving and trusting myself more. I’m becoming more at home within. And I know that the potential blessings that life holds for me are as abundant as ever.
It felt good to spread my wings and fly to Hawaii. I enjoyed connecting with Sooriya’s village, and lending a hand. It was nice to disconnect from my usual business. I resonated with the farm’s vision to find connection through inner silence, the arts and nature. My time with Peter was fun and fruitful. I enjoyed exploring the creative energy and potential there, providing the tools for others to access their creativity, and learning about new creative modalities, like Sooriya with his copper art and Aubrey with her amazing gong meditations. And swimming in the warm, clear ocean was bliss!
On the other hand, 85 degrees every day gets intense, having to either walk through the village to use the bathroom or just use a hose on the patio wore thin. That, combined with the dirt and bugs made wearing contacts especially challenging for me. The environment surrounding the farm often imposed it’s harshness through the sounds of sirens, dogs at the puppy mill, trapped feral goats and occasionally hogs being slaughtered. The junk yard on one side stacked abandoned vehicles against Mouna’s banana trees, and on the other side, a slit black tarp fence was the only barrier between the organic gardens and a conventional basil farm, being heavily doused with pesticides. Big earth and rock moving trucks rumbled by along the other edge of the property, starting early in the morning. It’s an environment that feels like home to Sooriya, who comes from Sri Lanka, but I don’t think I would choose to live there more than a couple weeks at a time, even with a personal bathroom.
Synchronicity brought Peter’s and my paths together, but not with long term potential.
And so this butterfly flits on~