Tuesday, July 3, 2012

It's a Little Thing, Really...

...only not really.

(I meant to write last night, but instead spent the evening getting my checked bags under 50 pounds each. It would seem I should also have paid attention to the weight of my carry-on—it was 3 pounds heavier than allowed—luckily, the ticket agent let me slide.)

I’m aboard Hawai‘ian Airlines flight HA 3. At the moment I wrote this sentence, we’re about 300 miles out of Los Angeles and 2,300 miles from Honolulu. I feel like an actor offstage between scenes; “...what’s past is prologue,” as Antonio said in The Tempest, and what’s to come is in my discharge.

What’s past is much on my mind, today. My best friend Wayne and his wife (a great good friend) accompanied Mom and me to the airport this morning to see me off. After 12 years treading one path together, Wayne’s path and mine diverge today, and that is a poignant, melancholy truth. Not that we’ll never see one another again—not that we won’t always be friends and collaborators—still, it cannot be denied that this changes things.

Strangely, parting with Mom was easier. I don’t really know why—I love Mom and will certainly miss her—yet somehow it was less difficult to say &ledquo;Aloha” to her.

The last time I looked back before turning my gaze forward (to the TSA check station, and not, alas, toward some “trackless horizon”), all three—Wayne, Margaret, and Mom—had their “game faces” on, and I was wearing mine, too. I didn’t look back after that, though; I thought that a blubbering grown man might look a bit suspicious to the TSA agent, and I knew that one more glance and that would be all she wrote.

Now I am on my way. What’s past is prologue—important and meaningful and never to be dismissed or diminished—my task is to build on it; to build a life worthy of who and what has gone before.

I am, in fact, looking forward toward a metaphorical “trackless horizon”—I am, in fact, facing the most exciting adventure of my life—and I am well aware of how lucky I am to have the family and friends I have; people who have my back and who sometimes heroically support me on my journey, though it cost them dearly.

I can never say mahalo (“Thank you”) enough.

Once I arrive, I’ll immediately apply for my Hawai‘i driver’s license. I’ll get better acquainted with my gracious hosts. I’ll explore O‘ahu for a few days with them as my guides. I’ll take plenty of pictures. I’ll begin the process of making a new life in a new place with new friends and new possibilities...but I will never forget those whose friendships will always be a part of me. This is a change, not an ending.

Aloha is not merely “hello” and “goodbye”—it is love and affection and esteem and compassion and caring. It is a spirit that reminds me of a Hindi greeting: Namasté. Namasté can be understood as, “The Divine in me recognizes and greets the Divine in you.” When The Divine greets the Divine, goodness flows. That is what the Aloha Spirit has always been to me; goodness and good will flowing from person to person. That is why the Islands have been calling me. It is that about Island culture that beguiled me long since.

I don’t know very much about what’s going to happen. I know what island I will live and work on, at least this year. I know at least generally what my job will be. I know the climate will be mild and the scenery beautiful. I know the ocean, my mistress, will be always near. And that’s about it. I don’t know more specifically where I’ll be living or who I’ll meet or just how I’ll spend my free time. I don’t know much of anything at all; don’t even know who I’ll become.

Not knowing is the best part. I’ve challenged the universe: “Surprise me!”

I just filled out the standard form everyone flying into Hawai’i must complete before landing. Always before, I’ve marked “I am a Visitor to Hawai‘i” but this time is different. This time I marked “I am a Intended resident moving to Hawai’i for at least one year.”

It’s a little thing, really...only not really.

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