rise in peace

in the aftermath of friday's tragedy in isla vista, as a ucsb alumni and former resident of the small town, i've been overcome with a lack of words to attach to this tremendously sad happening. as a true believer in signs, however, i knew exactly what i wanted to say when i heard of maya angelou's passing on the radio this morning. the poet and activist was and is my inspiration to write and to commit to peace. in honor of her, of the fallen ucsb students, and of those who fall victim to hate, i share one of maya angelou's most famed poems, and ask that in peace, we all rise.

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

- Maya Angelou
April 4, 1928 - May 28, 2014

my best friend's birthday

dear elena,

i still have the journal you sent with me when i left to college!

in the opening letter you said "i want you to write about all the raging nights, hook ups, bummers, horny thoughts, irritating roommates, and day dreams you have in santa barbara, and always start your entry off as dear elena, so when you come back we can read it together..."

my first entry back to you on the plane to cali in aug 2003:

"this is so hard, man. i always wondered about this day and would day dream about this hot local boy i would leave behind. but i finally get it. i was meant to be a friend in high school. it has taught me how to love and even how not to. i feel so content right now. my best friends were who i was meant to see off. you see, you guys all had boys to give your hearts to. i got to love you girls. i wouldn't change it for anything."

--

you have been one of my very very best friends for over 10 years. my beautiful, crazy, free spirit of a sister. a love like ours doesn't come around in every life time. i hope this day brings you all the luck, love, and light you've given me over the years!

be gooood :)

take me back...

 

waikiki. wailoa. puueo. mauna kea. kona. HILO.

--

the colors, the breeze, the swaying of the trees. the peace, the ease, and the warmth of the water. i know home will always be there. and i know i will always go back.

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