Mahalo Nui Loa

They say that the Big Island either draws you close or spits you out. Well, what was supposed to be 2.5 months turned into 9. And during that time, I soaked up everything I could. Just a smattering:

Starting a garden at Mahalo Aina with my housemates. And with the black gold soil (i.e., horse manure plus compost) it took little time until it was bursting with tomatoes, collard greens, kale, swiss chard, basil, rosemary, luffa, kalo, sweet potato, and other medicinal plants.  

Selling baked goods at a local farmers market while my housemate Syrissa offered her Bold Botanical Brews.

Taming an overgrown banana grove. Each banana stalk fruits only once before it must be chopped down to make space for new growth and nourish the soil. And I relished the machete-wielding excuse to do the deed.

                                        

Making chocolate from pod to bar. My eternal gratitude to Syrissa for allowing me to apprentice with her. 

                                            

Keeping bees and harvesting honey.

There were kirtans and raga concerts, song circles with my incredibly talented housemates, sweat lodges, and festivals. Sunday Funday with ecstatic dance, Kehena Beach, and drum circle (once was enough). 

Sometimes you have to go an ocean away to run into a friend from home.

My beautiful housemates

Harvesting (more importantly: eating) fruits that would not be out of place in a Dr. Seuss book: Oddly shaped shells protecting gelatinous delicious flesh wrapped around a seed. And selling lychee during its fleeting season.

Soursop

Breadfruit - tastes like potatoes

Ice Cream Bean - tastes like marshmallows

Star Apple - tastes like blueberry pie

Lychee

I sold out in mere hours and made a killing each time

Camping. Little Miss “I-don’t-understand-why-anyone-would-voluntarily-sleep-on-the-ground” camped. And it was fun!

Learning how to shoot a rifle.

And Mahalo Aina was buzzing (both literally and figuratively) with excitement, with the births of Valiant and Artemis. 

Riata and Artemis

Sure, paradise has its cost. The insects are intrusive (think: termites on a kamikaze mission), the humidity makes everything musty, gas nears $5/gallon, and Kīlauea eruptions impact air quality. But the Big Island didn’t spit me out. It stretched me, shaped me, and then showed me when it was time to move on. I leave, reluctantly, with dirt under my fingernails, salt in my hair, a nasty gash on my finger from a lychee picker, a braided horse tail (donated generously by Bucky, Sonoma, and Aurora), and a heart cracked wide open.

Thanks for everything, Hawaii.* 

*Especially my teachers Fabi and Steven, the entire Swift Wind herd, Zoe, Syrissa, Chai, Koa, Ollie, Lizzy, Alizah, Adrean, Michael, Rabbi Shaya and Hinda, Gary, Ido, Mina, the island cars I drove, and Tūtū Pele.