here i go again...

things are always changing. we know this. though, it often takes a big change to actually get our attention. this time last year i was certain that by now i would be moved back to hawai'i and enrolled in UH manoa's creative writing MA program. it was the only program i applied to, the only place i wanted to be; it was the everything into which i had been pouring all my energy. the application, i thought, was the easy part. it was saying goodbye to santa barbara that would be hard. i spent the next five months saying my mental farewells; enjoying the last birthday i'd celebrate here; appreciating my final spring on the central coast; tying up the decade i had spent here.

then things changed.

i couldn't be sure it wasn't a cruel joke, as my mom read me my rejection letter over the phone. but it was true, i didn't get in. everything i had been planning for years had come to a sudden halt. and the saddest part, so did my writing. as the reality of my rejection sunk in, my desire to write sunk even deeper. no matter how i felt, i just couldn't find the words.

it's been about five months now since i've had enough motivation to step out of my writing rut. maybe i made peace with being in santa barbara longer. maybe my recent trip to hawai'i made me realize home would always be there.

maybe enough time had passed.

whatever the reason, i finally realized, if i let another five months go by without practicing the craft, i could no longer call myself a writer. and that was a change that i wouldn't be able to accept.

so here i go again, as i attempt to give you a glimpse of life through my eyes, with my words. for those of you who stuck by me, thanks for awaiting my return.

i write for you.

xx
lika

hunting eggs in joshua tree...

because sometimes there are just no words. hope you bunnies had a happy easter. 

xo

the city of art, food, and brotherly love

we arrived at 8 am and hit the streets. there was lots to see. we spent the morning exploring the vibrant colors and rich aromas of the italian market. on the way to south street we gazed at beautiful murals and mosaics, and finally stopped to savor my very first philly cheese steak.

it was a great start to the trip. next stop, LOVE park. and go figure, that's where we get pickpocketed. right in the heart of the city of brotherly love. i wasn't on the west coast anymore.

i never knew how hard i had to be.
all this time i was just trying to learn
to be.
hardness creates a shell
too thick to return to
the core within.
but i cannot forget. however long,
however far.
LOVE.
when you get too hard,
too drowned in concrete,
they just become letters.
backward they are
EVOLving
in the wrong direction.
a city is only as modern
as its forward thinking of love.
whether brotherly, otherly, sisterly,
you to me
and me to you.
my love, without love
i would just be me
and you would be
a cold, windy, just a little too hard
you.

--

as i look back to my week in philadelphia, the ups, the downs, the city, the suburbs, the family, the foes, the parties, the hangovers, and most of all the love--i see the beauty in the realness. it is truth and it is life. i can only be grateful for it all. mahalo to the bobbs for your amazing hospitality. and mahalo to philly--for showing an island girl how to swim in the concrete jungle.

so buddha walks into a bar...

sweet title. and what a great concept, applying Buddhist teachings to modern, everyday life. and what a clever cover! i've been reading this book for over a week now and i only just now noticed Buddha sitting among the top shelf bottles. yup, exactly why i need this practice. really seeing what is in front of me, becoming more mindful, more aware of my present surroundings, that is what i am working towards. it is what we should all be working towards, allowing us to open our hearts and become in tune with our natural goodness. in turn we will be able to lead more full and truly happy lives.

first goal: mediate. 

just 10 minutes a day. 

mind focused completely on the breath. 

air. 

water. 

waves. 

surfing...

no, breath!

when ones mind slips from the present, 

a slope slippery as the moss beneath

a waterfall,

"just say 'thinking'" 

and return 

to the breath. 

acknowledge your thoughts,  

they are neither good nor bad,  

then just return 

to the inhale. 

exhale. 

inhale. 

exhale...breathe.

--

i'll keep you posted. xo

letting go

Last week I met with my mentors, Sojourner and Ann. It was the first time the three of us hung out all together. We sat with tea and talked. The conversation shifted naturally like a branch in an easy wind, from art to current events to common friends. Then as random as the breeze, we began talking about the things we clutter. I learned Sojourner, like myself, held on to many things, namely old letters and books upon books of writings and journals. Things, that in a fire, would be the first thing you would rescue. We spoke about the inability to let these sentimental items go, yet also the necessity in doing just that once they are lost.

The thought provoking topic was followed, just days later, by the loss of my iPhone. This also meant the loss of priceless pictures of my birthday camping trip, a disco dance party, and all the fun and memories in between. Then I realized, this was yet another reminder from the universe that I needed to learn to let go. I was reminded that all things change, shift, and eventually go away; on eternities time table, lasting as long as a snowflake in the sun...

Snowflake in the Sun
Undying love no doubt expires
like food and life itself.
Starry eyes go dim, the heart retires
to forever’s failing health.

Money grows then falls from trees
to an ever increasing cluster
of limp and dying leaves
whose green have lost their luster.

For there is no certainty
in life, we must concede.
Everlasting impermanence is all we can foresee.

--

Remembering and accepting the ultimate impermanence of all things makes it easier to let go. Whether an iPhone or old letters, an old love or insecurities of a new love, once we realize letting go is something we must all learn to do, there is freedom in the release...

Untitled
Can holding on ever be
greater than letting go?
I fear my grip is slipping,
yet I have no fear.
Freedom is found in the release.
Free as the bird in flight,
dusting the space ever so slightly
above the sea,
completely confident in its direction.
How can one be so certain of a route
they cannot see?
Maybe I could fly blindly into forever
if there were no such thing as time.
Who says timing 
is everything?
 
Timing did not create 
the moon rises and sunsets.
WE created time to make sense
of that simple, senseless beauty.
Where is time?
When is it time?
What is time?!
Nothing but a barrier to be broken.
Let go of the tortures of the tic tocs
and feel yourself float towards infinity,
nearing the Heron’s horizon.

Holding on only works
once you let go.  
You will not say goodbye,
you will open the door
to the inevitable unknown.
Not “in time”
time = now.

--

So whatever you may be holding on to, just know that it is ok to let go. 

xo 

women in love

in honor of valentine's day, my girlfriends and i set the eve of the holiday ablaze. we waited for sunset then hit the beach with firewood, wine, and bad love habits in hand. some of us burned photos, others burned broken promises, and we all burned things we vowed to no longer allow within our realm of love. it wasn't done in anger or bitterness or hurt. it was done as women in love. in love with ourselves, in love with each other, in love with love. and we were all in different stages of love. we were single women, recently broken up women, newly in love women, long term love women. yet, we all had one thing in common. so i took a moment to read by the bonfire light, a poem about our complicated fixation with the oh so complicated sex. and maya's truth was heard.

Men
By Maya Angelou

When I was young, I used to

Watch behind the curtains

As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.

Young men sharp as mustard.

See them. Men are always

Going somewhere.

They knew I was there. Fifteen

Years old and starving for them.

Under my window, they would pause,

Their shoulders high like the

Breasts of a young girl,

Jacket tails slapping over

Those behinds,

Men.



One day they hold you in the

Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you

Were the last raw egg in the world. Then

They tighten up. Just a little. The

First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.

Soft into your defenselessness. A little

More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a

Smile that slides around the fear. When the

Air disappears,

Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,

Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.

It is your juice

That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.

When the earth rights itself again,

And taste tries to return to the tongue,

Your body has slammed shut. Forever.

No keys exist.



Then the window draws full upon

Your mind. There, just beyond

The sway of curtains, men walk.

Knowing something.

Going someplace.

But this time, I will simply

Stand and watch.



Maybe.

--

while not so much a love poem, as a life poem, we couldn't help but be awed by its rawness. so whatever your love situation may be, just be sure there is love in your situation. today and everyday.

all my love...xox

a holiday for the poet

The obvious statement that roses are red and violets are blue, never sounds more sweet yet more trite than on Valentine's day. It is a day of love for the professional prose lyricist and the novice alike. A day in which we all become poets. After all, there is nothing more worthy of being called a poem than the raw, honest words that pour from a lovers heart--both starry-eyed and scorned alike.

I don't know about you, but no bouquet of roses or box of chocolates would make my heart beat quite as fast as a few simple words written straight from the heart--love made legible. And if the words don't come so easy to you, below are a few from some of the all time greats. I'm sure they wouldn't mind sharing it with you for your someone special. I can guarantee your someone special won't mind.


I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
By Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood


Juke Box Love Song
By Langston Hughes

I could take the Harlem night
and wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue busses,
Taxis, subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem's heartbeat,
Make a drumbeat,
Put it on a record, let it whirl,
And while we listen to it play,
Dance with you till day--
Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl.


When I Met My Muse
By William Stafford

I glanced at her and took my glasses
off--they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.

--

So this Valentine's Day, immortalize your love, timelessly etch it to the page and into the soul of your other.

xox