My Past Lives 

This is AMAZING. I bought “Past Life Oracle Cards” designed by Doreen Virtue and Brian Weiss. I put my energy into the cards and pulled three. This is what I got and I couldn’t believe it!

Knighthood- “In relationships and careers, you’re drawn to defend those who are weak and vulnerable.”

Scribe or Writer – “If you dream of being a published author, this card urges you to pursue that path. Do research on writing and publishing, and more important, write every day – which can be in the form of journaling, letters, creative writing, or nonfiction writing such as blogging or articles. If you have a strong enough desire to be a published author and you’re willing to put forth the effort, you can attain your dream.”

Lessons and Blessings – “This card means that you have learned important lessons, which are bringing blessings to your present lifetime. You’ve mastered how to turn painful events and memories into growth experiences.”

I’ve always been a fighter and protector of people and animals who are vulnerable; writing a book is one of my biggest dreams and I’ve started blogging to become a better writer; and the last one is really self explanatory.



Maui ~ Wednesday, Day Three: “Drinking the Kool-Aid”

My first relaxed, sleep-in morning in Maui was bliss.  The studio I stayed in had a Murphy bed that folded down into the living room. The mattress was unexpectedly comfortable, there was a selection of plush pillows, and the neighborhood was quiet and serene.  The mundane sounds of motorcycles revving by, the occasional angry commuter beeping at the person who cut them off at 5 am, and the eighteen-wheelers shifting down in front of my house in New Hampshire was replaced by the hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of birds singing.

A few times I adjusted myself in bed, preparing to get up.  Then I remembered I was on vacation, smiled, and curled up under the soft blanket, falling back asleep for another hour. And then another hour.

I purposely scheduled my massage in the afternoon on Wednesday so after a busy few days I could rest up and relax.  I sat up on the edge of the bed, lifting my arms over my head and stretched, letting a primal groan release from my mouth.  Opening the screen door, warm and humid air rushed in along with the sounds of the birds going about their morning business in the back yard.  I sat on the lanai, content in the moment but excited for my upcoming massage.

There was a familiar rumbling in my tummy, and I remembered I had planned to go to Slappy Cakes for breakfast. They also had coconut syrup like Kuna Lodge did.  That’s all that had to be said for me to commit to go there. I dressed, much more quickly and efficiently than I would ever do at home, clearly motivated more than usual.  Coconut syrup and a Lomi Lomi massage would probably be enough to motivate just about anybody.

Slappy Cakes was busy, a longer than expected wait.  A spot opened up the bar, so I pulled up a chair towards the end of it.  The bartenders were nice, but not sickly sweet like the other people I had met so far. They were young, restless to get out surfing the big waves that were coming in.  I looked at the menu, quickly choosing a mimosa and the special of chocolate coconut pancakes.  I included a $4 fruit cup, excited to have fresh Hawaiian fruit despite being bothered that it was $4.

The pancakes were beyond delicious, the mimosa was smooth and fruity with the expected bite of champagne.  The fruit was flavorful and much more fresh than I’m used to at home.  The atmosphere was comfortable, relaxed.  I took my time, reading some of my book, savoring my food, and sipping my mimosa slowly.  There was some small talk with the people that worked there, but mostly I was eavesdropping on the locals conversing about everyday life on Maui.

I paid my check and decided to go for a drive before my massage.  I took a left out of Slappy Cakes and right onto the main highway, heading South to Lahaina.  Ka’anapali was all lush grass and flowers, huge, lavish resorts, and views of the beach in the distance. Continuing down the highway there were strip malls, some with familiar places like Subway and Barnes and Noble (omg omg omg a bookstore!) but also had stores unique to the area.  There were beach parks, one after another with a parking area and a line of palm trees, the waves crashing up onto the sand.  As I got farther from Ka’anapali, the parks lost their structure and designated parking lots, becoming grassy land where people backed up towards the waves and lounged under trees in the shade.

After exploring the area for a while it was time for my massage. I made my way back towards Slappy Cakes and just down the road I found Zensations Spa.  I checked in, sat in the lounge listening to the calm flow of water from the fountain and meditating on the Buddha statue in front of me.  I sipped on cold, refreshing water as I waited for my massage therapist. I was excited to get a traditional Hawaiian Lomi Lomi massage and desperately needed one after sitting on a plane for so many hours just a few days before.

My massage therapist was casually dressed, had a partially shaved head, tattoos, a nose ring, and gave off some super chill vibes.  I got settled on the table, happily anticipating the next hour.  She was friendly, didn’t talk too much, and was a very talented therapist. There was (of course!) a couple sensitive areas, my body squirming under her weight, but it was all needed.  The after-massage high set in quickly and I was on cloud nine for the rest of the day.  I did not share with her I was a licensed massage therapist because I’ve learned that this can be a huge mistake; it changes the dynamics and power differential. The hour is no longer blissful and relaxing but seems to turn into a mini-conference of people in the same field.  No thanks!

Enjoying my blissed-out state, I decided to head to the beach.  I had a few hours before I needed to be at The Westin for the luau that night.  I drove to the closest beach park and sauntered over to a grassy area, sitting under the shade of a palm tree.  The sun shone bright and strong, making me squint and already warming my skin after only a few minutes.  To the left there was a young girl about 10 years old, tan skin, blonde long hair in a braid who was jumping into the waves, sometimes dropping a skimming board into the water.  To the right were picnic tables, grills, and about fifteen long, thin canoes with a sign stating they were for the local canoeing team.  The beach was not crowded like on the East coast, and birds surrounded me more than people.

Sitting under the palm tree, listening to be the beautiful sound of the waves, and settling into the sun, I looked out over the ocean, complete contentment within my heart and soul.  It felt like home deep within me and such clarity came to my mind about life’s biggest quandaries.  I wrote a little bit, I pulled a few tarot cards, and I relaxed, soaking in the pure enjoyment of the afternoon.

Eventually, it was time to head out for the luau so I decided to find my way to The Westin.  I parked at Whaler’s Village, full of eateries and outlet stores, making my way to the boardwalk all along the beach.  I turned the corner and saw “Westin” mowed into the lawn, and a huge pool area with tropical vegetation, flamingos in the water, waterfalls, fountains, and outdoor restaurants.  As quickly as you were on the beach, you were in the midst of this highly designed hotel lounge area, and then into the actual hotel but there were no walls.  Everything was wide open and the sound of waterfalls carried everywhere.

After waiting in line for a while, they ushered us into a semi-indoor room with free drinks and of course I grabbed a complimentary mai tai.  And that was by far the strongest mai tai I had ever had.  Within a few minutes, I felt the warm rush through my body, everything relaxing even more after such a peaceful day.  There were round tables, tightly packed next to each other as if we were at a wedding.  The men and women working the luau looked the anticipated part; the woman with brightly colored fabric wrapped around them had flowers in their hair and the men were shirtless with the same flowered print wrapped around their waste.  Everyone was barefoot as they showed the crowd to their seats.

I sat with grandparents who brought their grandchildren, both very well behaved and respectful.  There was a couple to my right, friendly and talkative.  A mother and daughter sat across from me, accompanied by what looked like the mother’s sister.  I could easily see the live band playing Hawaiian classics, and the stage where the luau would happen was a little farther away.  The sun shined in on us but it was comfortable, and we all engaged in small talk as we settled in.

The food was wonderful.  It was set up buffet style with traditional Hawaiian options but also basic choices like salad and fresh fruit.  The kalua pulled pork was the best pulled pork I’ve ever had and I could have eaten an entire plate of it.  The hula dancing was beautifully flowing, their movements like liquid.  The strong beat of the drums penetrated my heart, and a feeling of familiarity overcame me.  I had never been to Hawaii or any other tropical place and definitely had not been to a luau, so where could this feeling be coming from?

At the end of the evening, the male performers put on an elaborate fire show. There was precision to their movements; passion radiating from them.  The fire dance was a male dominated performance exuding masculine power into the audience, contrasting starkly with the peaceful, calm, and nurturing feminine energy of the hula dancers that had come earlier in the evening.

As I drove home, that feeling of connection to the history of the Hawaiian people invaded my mind again.  Invaded is an appropriate and accurate word choice.  I was perplexed why I was so confused by this because why wouldn’t I be interested and excited to learn more about the Hawaiian culture if I was in Hawaii? And of course the luau was a new experience and I am a lover of endless novel adventures.  But this felt different.  The feeling that came over me was on a deeper level; one of higher intuition and truth.  And I wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

I drove the dark, windy beach side road back to the condo and contemplated what this could mean.  On my spiritual path, I have come across the idea of past lives, karma, and karmic debt.  The idea that we are beings with lives past lived and in our current reincarnation we are attempting to ascend to our highest, healed self, is one viewpoint that I have struggled with.  It makes sense to me at times, but when I find myself in a lower vibration, it seems like an unfair game that is played on us.  But I suppose this depends on how you look at past lives and karmic debt; is it an opportunity to fully heal yourself through human life experiences and relationships, or will you take a victim viewpoint?  I have chosen to take look at this possibility of past lives and karmic debt as an opportunity to come into my highest self.

Because I am more open to the idea of past lives now, I started to wonder if I had a past life in Hawaii or as part of another Polynesian culture.  If this were true, it could explain my underwhelmed initial reaction when I got to Maui; there wasn’t much of a reaction because deep down it was a familiar place.  Deep down, I had already experienced the awe of the landscape, the ruralness of “upcountry.”  It didn’t feel like I was on vacation or experiencing a new place because I had already been there.  Maybe this was like coming home.

I went to bed that night, thinking to myself that I had officially gone crazy.  I had joined the ever-feared cult, ushered in quietly.  I swished down the Kool-aid; fallen down the rabbit hole.  But when the adrenaline from the luau dissipated and the booze from my mai tai settled, my thoughts became intensely clear: I knew what I was thinking was truth.  As I lay in the dark, listening to the hum of the ceiling fan and air conditioner, my mind quieted enough to connect to the wisdom of my heart.

Hawaii wasn’t just a tropical vacation destination; it was home to a past version of myself.





Maui ~ Tuesday, Day Two: “Upcountry Sunrise”

Despite being exhausted and more than elated to be at the hotel with a comfy king sized bed to sleep in, I tossed and turned the four or five hours I slept.  My body was in an airport hotel in Maui, but my mind played tricks on me, making me think I was back home and just having a bad night sleeping.  Sometimes I would slowly open my eyes and remember where I was, and other times my body would jerk quickly like I was falling from a twenty story building, arms flailing, air catching in my throat.  I shot my arm out to the other side of the bed, reaching for my boyfriend but he was not there.  The next time I woke up I was sleeping diagonally in the bed with one leg half off the bed, air conditioning humming loudly at the other side of the room.

I awoke with the familiar pressure in my bladder signaling to me that I needed to go pee, however, after a largely unsuccessful night’s rest I lay there for quite some time wishing it away.  Grudgingly, I stumbled to the bathroom, groggy and with no glasses on, arms outstretched attempting to find the light switch.  Checking my phone, I was shocked to see it was 2:30 am, only a half hour before my alarm was set to go off.  Excitement rushed my body as I remembered my plans for the day: venture to the Haleakala Crater to see the sunrise and make my way to the west side of Maui where I would be staying for the rest of my trip.

And then dread filled my mind.  I would be driving a huge unfamiliar vehicle in the dark, traveling in a completely unknown place, alone, and would reach an elevation of over 10,000 feet on a narrow road to get to the top of the crater.  My next thought was simply, “what an adventure.”  I quickly brushed my teeth, dressed, packed up my things, and headed down to the lobby, anxiety still rushing through my veins but slowly transforming to exhilaration.

The road was lonely, stretched out before me for miles but I was only able to see as far as my headlights would show me.  A few cars came up behind me fast, quickly passing me; reminding me of my tourist classification.  The woman at the desk gave me very clear directions and in the moment I understood them.  As I was driving I realized I was going in the wrong direction and missed a turn about ten miles back.  Swinging wide right, whipping the Jeep around in the middle of the road, I hit the gas and headed back to the right set of lights to go left towards the crater.

Time went by fast, and I started to wake up more and more, now realizing how much of a daze I was still in when I checked out of the hotel.  A dark brown national park sign came into view with white painted letters announcing I had reached Haleakala National Park. “Crater 22 miles. No food.  No gas.” The road almost immediately started winding and narrowing.  It was still dark out, my lights shining ahead and my eyes straining. After miles and miles of winding road and my heart catching every time I went a little too fast around a corner, I finally came to a place to pay to enter the park.  And then I drove more miles and miles, ascending into darkness.

I parked the car and had no idea where to go since it was still completely pitch black. I lit the flashlight on my iPhone, technology starkly contrasted with the nature I was consumed by, atop a crater 10,000 feet in the air.  The air whipped my cheeks and legs as I opened the door stepping onto the gravel.  My shirt pushed up by the force of the wind, my legs instantly becoming cold.  Why did I wear these? I saw groups of people walking behind me to the left, so I followed, up concrete stairs where a building emerged.

The building blocked some of the wind and an orange glow lined the edges of it.  I walked in almost running into other spectators awaiting the sunset, all of us hushed and moving around slowly in the cramped building.  You entered at the back of the building with the opposite side made up of big windows.  Dark shapes, all different sizes, lined up against the windows with some of their noses pushed up against the clear, cold glass.  I wandered outside of the building, taking a left to where I saw no one.  I stepped to the front of the building and the wind pushed into my throat, making me catch my breath and my eyes instantly watering.

The view was starting to reveal itself, the orange glow turning a lighter orange and beginning to turn yellow.  I stood there with the wind pushing me back into the building and at one point, crouched against it. Eventually, I went to the other side and was sheltered by the wind by everyone surrounding me, some with big blankets wrapped around them, the corners flapping violently.  The sun slowly rose, shining onto the clouds we all looked down on.  I was in awe, appreciating every new morning, every breath, every experience.  This was life.

The venture back down the crater was tedious and looked completely different than I had expected.  It was now 6:00 am or so, and after watching the sunrise I decided to get some breakfast at the Kula Lodge.  I read online they had coconut syrup, which of course caught my attention.  While driving to the summit of the crater, I realized how close I was to the edge, many times the road missing a desired guard rail.  On the way down, it shocked me how tight some of the corners were, how narrow they became as you shared the road with other cars and bicyclists.  I do not pray very often but I found myself praying all the way up and for a while, on the way down.

It was 7:00 am as I reached Kula Lodge, one of the waitresses just putting out the “open” flag.  There was already a line of people waiting to be seated.  I sat in the back right corner at a table that faced the big picture windows overlooking the beautiful crater and Hawaiian landscape.  The waitress was extremely nice, sickly sweet like the young woman who checked me into my hotel the night before.  I was starting to see this might be a trend, but it was a welcomed one.  Friendly, talkative people that I could connect with even if it was just a few minutes of small talk.  The food was good, and I instantly fell in love with coconut syrup (where could I get more of this while I was here?).

There was a small but packed full, eclectic gift shop around the corner, stocked with everything from art to homemade soap to Hawaiian jellies, seasoning, and you guessed it ~ coconut syrup. I considered packing a little box for them to ship back to New Hampshire but decided against it, and instead bought a few things that I could easily pack for my trip back home.  Continuing down the road, heading for Paia, I came across Twin Falls which was suggested to me by a friend who had been to Maui three times. There was no place to park in the first two lots, so I parked on the edge of the road, walking back towards the food stand and entrance to the trail. I had heard about the fresh banana bread and coconuts you could buy from the food truck at the start of the trail at Twin Falls.  There was a lot of people roaming around, parents chasing after their kids and couples sauntering down the dirt path.  I decided to come back to the food truck for something after I checked out the falls.

There was no place to park in the first two lots, so I parked on the edge of the road, walking back towards the food stand and entrance to the trail. I had heard about the fresh banana bread and coconuts you could buy from the food truck at the start of the trail at Twin Falls.  There was a lot of people roaming around, parents chasing after their kids and couples sauntering down the dirt path.  I decided to come back to the food truck for something after I checked out the falls.

I think I was the only person at Twin Falls alone, but I didn’t mind.  The bamboo was beautiful, an alien vegetation I had never seen.  Tall, shoved together tightly, moving in the wind and creating a creepy, creaky sound that could easily be found in a scary movie – yet it was oddly calming to me.  Reaching the falls, I looked over the edge of the rocks, hearing the laughing and talking of kids and teenage boys rooting each other on to jump into the waterfall.  I sat on the bench for a while watching everyone jump off into the pool of water, but was not overcome to do this myself!

I found a less traveled path – so less traveled I stumbled by a man taking a piss in the bushes.  Oops.  I kept going, at times crouching to miss some of the branches that hung low.  I ventured down a rock pathway, taking my time to not slip. I came across a beautiful river that flowed gently, the sound of the water against the rocks out of a meditation soundbite.  Hearing another waterfall in the distance, I walked upstream and found two beautiful waterfalls, families swimming in the water below them.  As I walked back to the food truck after enjoying nature in this new place, I felt such a deep sense of gratitude.

Of course, I ordered a smoothie and half a coconut to eat the flesh out of.  I hopped in the Jeep, continuing on to Paia sipping on a delicious smoothie and eating the flesh of the fresh coconut.  To say I was in heaven might be an understatement!

Paia was too crowded and I decided to not stop.  There was no place to park and after being up for hours, I wanted to see more of the island and check into my Airbnb.  The drive across Maui was interesting as I was not close to the ocean and had not had that “wow” factor yet.  Most of what I saw was overgrown hills, narrow roads, and in some places, dilapidated houses.  This was Maui?

Coming to the southwestern coast of Maui, things started to look more like what you would expect Hawaii to look like.  Bright blue ocean for miles, islands stretched out in the distance, white lines pushed up against the rocks as the surf came in.

There was much more traffic, huge resorts in the distance, palm trees curved over by the wind and beautiful views. As I came into Lahaina, through Ka’anapali and into Napili, I contacted Debra who was the owner of the condo I was renting.  Everything was tightly packed together in Napili, which was not what I expected.  In my mind, I had visions of vast beaches and wide open, lush lawns in front of mansions.  It wasn’t what I expected, but over the next few days, it started to feel like home.

Debra helped me find the reserved parking space and led me down a walkway to the condo.  It was serenely quiet despite so many houses close together, and when she opened the door there was a cross breeze from one end of the studio to the other end. Granite counter tops, newly renovated.  Modern finishings, but homey at the same time. We made small talk, spoke about my stay, and she left me to get settled.

My first full day in Maui had been another adventure added on to the previous day of travel.  The Haleakala Crater at sunrise was a must-see experience, Kula Lodge was delicious, Twin Falls was a beautiful walk topped off with fresh coconut and a smoothie, and the drive to Napili had views I would never forget.  I rested, organized my clothes, and prepared for the next few days, ready to explore more of Maui.






Maui ~ Monday, Day One: “5,000 Miles”

There was much more resistance than typical on my way to the bus station.  Usually, when I am embarking on a traveling adventure I am excited and ready to get the hell out of New Hampshire for a little while.  Traveling had become my escape and a way to excite myself with something new after what always seems like a day to day, mundane existence.  But, this time was different.

I couldn’t see my life after this trip.  Whenever I thought of my future, there was nothing that came to me after Hawaii.  I attributed this to my increased ability to really “stay in the moment” and be present and not always fast forwarding to the future, worrying, and missing out on the actual experience.  But my imagination had gotten the best of me as well (it’s really hard to shut off sometimes!) and I thought maybe this was the Universe’s way of telling me this trip would be the end of my life.  I used to love to fly but as time has gone on, it makes me increasingly uncomfortable, as if I have developed claustrophobia in the last few years.  Maybe I’d be going down on the plane or be in the wrong place at the wrong time and see the darker side of Maui.  But who knows ~ I was still going and in my heart, I knew I had to go.

My boyfriend stood next to me, loyal and protective, as we waited for the bus driver to load my suitcase onto the bus.  We held each other, kissed each other, looked into each other’s eyes and prepared to be separated by almost 5,000 miles.  I got onto the bus, him walking back to his car.  It was time.

Getting to the airport and through security was largely uneventful.  Once on the plane, I realized I was sitting in the middle seat between two strangers.  This flight would be almost six hours to Pheonix, Arizona.  I had been to Pheonix a handful of times and felt a comfortability knowing I was going to a familiar place for my layover.

Typical pleasantries of getting on the plane and getting comfortable in your seat.  There was not much conversation initially; the lady on my right quickly pulled out her computer and started to peruse Facebook and her email, impulsively and compulsively switching from one window to the next on autopilot; the gentleman on my left fell asleep almost immediately, his head cocked back at a strange angle and his mouth dropped open.  I decided to watch some movies on the tablet I brought, which was a great way to pass the time.  For a few minutes, I forgot I was cruising at 40,000 feet in a tiny tin box with a hundred other people, squished in like sardines in a can.  I amused myself with the hilarity of what it would look like if you took away our shelter and we were all just flying through the air, seated, and moving at 600mph. Ha!

The inevitable conversation had begun. Who do you think it was first? The woman to my right who was sucked into social media or the gentleman to my left snoozing like he was taking a nap in his backyard on a sunny afternoon?  It was the guy to the left ~ the lady was still immersed in what she was finding online.

He spoke exasperatedly like he was continually out of breath.  He constantly was smiling and laughing after everything he said like he was making profound statements that anyone would agree with.  His eye contact was intense but friendly.  He worked for a small toy company and traveled a lot and went into detail explaining his extensive and seemingly strenuous work trips to China in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s.  We talked about good food, travel, places we’d like to visit eventually.  And at times I had clearly tried to end the conversation so I could return to my movie but he continued to talk enthusiastically as ever, smiling and laughing with deep breaths and that smile.

Just like that he quickly changed focus and started to work on business – just like that he was back to a stranger I was sandwiched next to on a plane.  The woman and I spoke briefly, following the same path of conversation as with the man.  Jobs, kids, travel.  She worked with focus groups and was happy to be away from her children for a length of time.  “A whole five hours of being able to check out Facebook and do some work, totally interrupted.  It’s heaven.” She asked me about my traveling plans and seemed almost surprised I was going to Maui solo.  “Well, you’re obviously a very friendly person and will have no problem traveling on your own!” Oddly enough, this gave me some reassurance even though we had only exchanged a handful of sentences.

As the plane was landing my connecting flight was supposed to be boarding.  This had never happened to me before and I started to panic.  I usually had plenty of time for connecting flights.  I rushed off the plane, saying goodbye and good luck to my seatmates. A little bit of chaos entered my body but I reminded myself that everything would work out the way it should.  Regardless, I rushed to my next gate, completely out of breath. And I rushed for no reason ~ it was so hot in Phoenix that we could not board the plane. We had to wait until the plane cooled down a little bit like it had just lost its temper. I giggled to myself and went to find food.

I eagerly awaited boarding, at times almost to the American Airlines lady scanning boarding passes when the pilot would appear from the depths to announce we had to hold off because the temperature was rising again.  Eventually, we all boarded, and I was nervous to see who I would be sitting next to.  There was tangible stress in the hot, thick air as the passengers got settled.

I ended up sitting next to a wonderful couple.  They were high school sweethearts but with an extensive siesta that included other marriages and children before reconvening again in the 40’s.  The husband had lived in Maui with his family for many years, so they visited quite often after moving to Chicago.  They were incredibly gracious as if we were on their personal jet that I just happened to be on, catching a quick lift to Maui.  The lady downed two small bottles of wine and the conversation began.

We realized we both had an interest in Ashtanga yoga, meditation, and I told her about yoga nidra and she encouraged acupuncture because it was so healing for her.  By the end of at least an hour and a half of talking, she insisted I take her number in case I ended up needing anything while on the island.  I did not object and appreciated the motherly gesture.

I saved her number in my phone, excited to have felt a little warmth from this person. There really is nothing like motherly concern.  At times, my Mother’s meddling as I viewed it in the past, was smothering and frustrating.  And at this point in my life after so many years without parents, I think I would find it equally as frustrating and annoying.  But oddly enough, I also miss this connection with my Mother.

She had mastered the balance between calling to make sure I’m still alive and smiling and giving me enough space and acceptance to create my own life. She knew when to stop calling and let me have my own experiences, honoring the need for me to develop my own sense of capability and independence.  This started to trump her impulsive, almost selfish need for reassurance that I was okay.  She would occasionally make that call, and I could tell in her voice she was trying not to call – to honor that agreement we had of me being my own person and giving me space.  After all, in her senior yearbook, she wrote her biggest pet peeve was “pushy people” and I knew that was the last thing she wanted to be.

After putting the woman’s number in my phone, her husband grabbed my suitcase from the overhead compartment and they were off.  I was stuck by the window, standing up but crouched and squished under the panel above me as were many other passengers, eager to vacate the plane.  As I waited, I smiled to myself knowing my day of travel was over and I was in Maui.

The airport was something out of the 1970’s.  To the right were the gates, enclosed with big glass windows and air conditioned, and on the left, it was open with the hot, humid air blowing in.  Everything was brown and beige, and if it was beige it was on its way to being brown.  Despite the mediocre, worn airport the weather was beautiful.  Everyone from the plane moved down the hall in a hoard, some of us excited, some of us moving with intense purpose and focus, and some of us, like me, wandering along and taking in the freedom of movement after such a long flight.

The view was not spectacular as I walked to the exit. It looked like the center of the airport; white buildings, trucks, and loading docks, the trucks moving around in the small enclosed area what seemed like a little too fast as if driven by a seasoned employee.  The air was thick and dense and it felt like water droplets were sticking to every part of my clothing.

The rental car place did not have any two-door Jeeps left, so the rented me a four-door Jeep, huge, truly American.  Oversized, beefy, and it seemed lifted.  I took my time adjusting everything, feeling relieved I had made it this far, but also nervous to drive this huge vehicle in an unknown place.  I put my big girl pants on, took a deep breath, looked both ways to make sure I was not going to run anyone over and shifted into drive. Slowly pressing on the gas, cautiously as you do when first driving an alien vehicle, but nothing happened. A little more pressure, expecting it to come to life and roar forward.  Noe.  It revved but just sat in its parking space.  I could feel my cheeks flush and anxiety rise within my chest.  I impulsively pushed on the gas pedal out of nervousness and this time it revved even louder, jerking forward up on its tires but still not driving forward.  I let off the gas and it rocked back complacently into place.  What the fuck, what the fuck?!

I looked down and realized the parking brake was on, a small smile spreading across my lips at my silly mistake but realizing and remembering things like this seem to be par for the course on new adventures.

I found my hotel, just down the road.  The check in woman almost sickeningly sweet.  I told her I was going to check out the Haleakala Crater in the morning and that I would be going to bed early to get up at the suggested time to leave: 3:30 am.  For the few minutes, we were talking, I don’t’ think she stopped smiling, but it was a genuinely sweet smile.  She was not native Hawaiian, but maybe mulatto with long, dark, frizzy curly hair.  Innocently sweet, beautiful, kind, attentive.

Setting off to my room, the dorky side of myself emerged as I was excited to see what my room would look like; the layout, the furniture, the extras (a stocked fridge, a safe, a hair dryer?), and of course what shampoo and conditioner would be complimentary.  After the longest day of travel I have ever endured (especially alone) and a six hour time change, when I opened the door to the hotel room the king sized bed glowed with a golden light around it and from somewhere in the room angels started to sing while a harp played.