Staying True to My Roots

I walked into work today and my boss practically shouts at me, "Your hair is so long!" He follows with a "Have you cut it since you've been here?" Well, yes, a quarter inch once and it was terrifying so I don't plan on cutting it again.  But he might have hinting at something.  My last service today was a couples massage and I asked the other therapist if I was looking too shaggy and should cut my hair.  His answer was a summary of Kauai fashion and he seemed to edging towards a compliment... but then he ended with, "And you look like a Viking cavewoman."  What???  *sigh* Do I look like a Viking cavewoman? There's so such thing.  I can never leave this island.

Falling back on an adolescence of Sassy magazine and grunge, I paid homage to my 15 year-old self tonight and collaged a shoebox.  Who needs nightlife?

Aloha.

Retraining the Brain.

I'm sitting on my lanai in the morning sun, with coffee and the cat. The cat has been christened Cruiser by the apartment complex at large, but I don't feel the name suits her at all. I just call her little one but she probably thinks her name is, "Get down off the bed right now!"

The cycles I've been through on Kauai are apparent. I arrived and fought a bit, moved to the jungle, and then accepted the island. I felt empowered and at home here. After my December visits, and trip to Tokyo, something changed. The jungle became overwhelmingly hard for the reward it offered, and I began to experience rock fever in a horrible way. I moved to Princeville, and my body and poor wee pituitary shut down, and I grew very sad.

I think the pattern here is sense of place and loss of love. My first cycle of happiness here was after I realized that Jen and I weren't meant to be, and while I struggled so terribly with the guilt of that and mourned our relationship, it freed me emotionally. I've come to another place where I realize that a love I was holding out for isn't going to happen, and the little fetal position my heart has held itself in is finally starting to unfold.

The question is, how do I reconcile feelings of love with an open heart and willing spirit? I feel that again now when love is gone, but to feel it when I have the love of another in my life is a challenge. I must equate love with weakness on some level, and so in being in love, I start to resent myself for being weak. Body and mind begin to shut down and I fulfill my own prophesy.

I've been churning the possibillty of staying on Kauai longer than planned. My friends and my family will be there when I get back, be it this summer, or next Spring. I've always wanted to do a massage course in Chang Mai and if I stay here through the fall, I could save enough to pay off my bills, go to Thailand for 3 weeks, and still go home for Christmas. I haven't mentioned this to my mom yet.

The new tribe initiates with feathers.

Aloha.

Straddling strangers

There's something in my energy that seems to be attracting needy men. Fortunately, or not, I'm not encountering these guys at the beach or in The Nui. These are paying men, Johns of a different skin trade. As a massage therapist and esthetician, I feel, see, and hear a lot. I look at the human body both more democratically, as 90% of them, share the same pains and disorganization. I also feel more frustration when people don't take care of themselves. The more you understand the body, I think the more you understand god manifests there. It's not a trash can. Don't put shit in it.

Today a client came in for a 90 minute sports massage and was freakin' ripped. Muscles a-blazing, he outlines his roster of injuries. I stepped out to let him change and get on the table, and I went to wash my hands. When I walked back in, he says, "You must have stepped away. I was yelling at you to you I was ready." Really? Really, we're starting like this? And so we begin. When I massage, I feel the skin and muscle as clay, and I concentrate on molding it to a new, healthier form. I work best in silence. He wouldn't shut up. I'm giving him three word answers. Still talking. Mostly bragging about his sports accomplishments. He finally gets me to open up when he mentioned the half marathon is his favorite distance. "Me too." Uh oh, here we go. Now he's talking like we're fitness warriors, fighting the obesity battle together. Then he asks if I massage my husband at night. Uh oh again. I hate it when male clients say shit like that. And if they're at all interested in me, they do. "Your husband is a lucky man!" Oh would you just think for one moment, because if I was married, the very last thing I do after a long day of offering sports massage is run home to rub on honey. Fuck no... Next he's talking about how fat his wife has gotten and he "keeps telling her but she won't listen." Dude, she's doing it because she hates you, and doesn't want you touching her.

I opened my macbook to write about another client though. A local guy I saw a couple days ago. These island guys are huge and all dense muscle. Tongan or Samoan. He was my last client of the day. I did everything I could. I was sweating, hands shaking, hair in my face, on my elbows, fists, forearms. Nothing was doing it for him. "More pressure, please!" So I used the last tool in my box. I braced myself, put one knee on the table, swung the other knee so it rested on the base of his glutes, then straddled the man. I had both fists along his erector spinae, and moved my knees to deep in his glutes. And I hung out there, working my knees down his hamstrings. I did a push-up or two. And then hopped down and finished up the session. In Colorado, that is completely illegal and not within the bounds of my license. It was separates me from a postitute basically. On Kauai, people love it, and I was gifted a $60 cash tip. The crazy thing is, having someone get on the table truly offers no deeper pressure. I can get much deeper with a smaller vector of my force; the tip of my elbow. It's the theatrics and bragging rights. And heck, it's worth a big tip and some relief to my poor hands.

Aye me though. How long am I going to do this?

Aloha.

Better not to know

I dated a guy once that looked just like Glen Danzig. He had long black hair, blue eyes, big muscles, and drove some sort of... omfg, he drove a local boy truck! This guy was so good to me. He sent me flowers at work, wrote me poetry, went for beers with my dad, completely giving in bed, kinda bullied my ex, what's not to love? Bless his big handsome heart, he was a dummy. So dumb, in fact, that his nickname was Dumbzig.

Dumbzig had no idea he was dumb. He just didn't know. And to clarify, he wasn't stupid, he was dumb. Space cadet, smoked too much weed, maybe a wee bit of head trauma as a child, dumb. And he was so happy with his lot in life. The man walked around with swagger, sex appeal and a smile. I've been reading through an old email account that I now only use for ordering things online, but that used to be my primary personal account. There are some doozies. The charting of entire relationships. One from Mr. D about two months in reads: "Just thinking of you, and it put a big smile on my face. Just want you to know you make me proud to be with you, and to be lucky enough for you to call me your boyfriend...it makes me happy. see you later Beautiful, Yours always, love ....."

Fast forward six months and I get this: "Take a look at this stupid shit were fighting about. How about working on communication skills, and I know I'm guilty too. But come on it was never supposed to be this hard. I think your not ready for a relationship, I understand I've been there too. If you want it to be over between us could you let me know in person? I deserve that much respect."

Yeah... certainly not stupid. I still need to work on those things. He later told me that I broke his heart. Then he moved to Florida and had babies. My point in writing this was originally that sometimes not knowing is better. I am a smart girl. I'm not ironic hipster funny and I haven't managed grad school yet, but I'll do. I can figure shit out. Right now, I've figured some things out from prolific facebook posts and I certainly don't think I'm the better for it.

Dumbzig cruised through this world with his shit-eating grin and charisma like a talisman because he didn't know what other people were saying about him. He didn't get that he didn't get it. And so every decision he made was from a place of confidence.

There's so much information now. Social network has made dating both easier and harder. Now we get to see every interaction those we care about have with others, we (all hundred plus for most people) all see break ups, make ups, and silences. People get tagged in photos that reveal what hours of pondering couldn't come close to. And so instead of walking around with Dumzig swagger, I for one, walk around with a sick feeling in my belly that things aren't as they should be.

I want to be Dumbzig. Well shit, guess I'll add him as a friend instead. I think I owe him a drink and an apology, in that order.

Aloha.

Good vibes

Last night was pivotal for me in a few ways and I'm trying to work them out through the haze of remembrance of a very late night. I've met a bit of a soul sister on this island. She's an Irish girl, a few years older than me. We share some physical traits: long hair, big blue eyes, bit of a wonky nose. She's tiny and dark-haired but there's enough of a vibe that a few people commented on it last night. We met and just knew each other and as our life stories started to unfold, things that I've explained to others that they judge as crazy or reckless, she just smiled and shared a similar story. We lived in London at the same time, both heavy into the party scene; her jungle, me psy trance. Last night she took me to my first dance party on Kauai.

I met so many people, a few insane, a few very true souls. I spent an hour talking with with one guy, alternating dancing and chilling out on the couches with him. At the end of the night, he found me, told me how moved he was by our connection and then told me all about his wife and kids. It was actually a really cool, totally honest interaction. All the people I met had a common thread; Kauai, of course, and freedom.

I think I've tortured myself trying to fit others definitions of what I should be and how I should behave. Relationships, friends, parents. People always have an opinion on the decisions I have made that don't follow the trajectory that the majority follow. Jobby job, relationship, house, ect. And that's amazing for them, AMAZING, I'm so happy for them. But it's not for me. It's just not for me, and I know that so deeply. Being around others who are also free from these expectations was so soothing, so connected. Kauai is a tribe and those that live here work very hard to do so. I've been to many parties in many places yet rarely have I had the profound feeling that I was connected to every person there on a level beyond the music (or drugs, of which I had none last night.) I felt connected in choosing a different life, a different place. Connected in soul and energy rather than age or occupation.

My first month here I sat on the bluffs next to the hotel and dangled my legs high above the Pacific. I thought, "I'm on this island for a reason I haven't yet discovered." And then I put that feeling to rest for a bit and got caught up in emotions of love or commitment to other places and people. But that feeling is back. I believe by embracing the island and dancing with my new tribe, I will fully allow this journey to complete a part of me. Or rather I will allow my mind to take a back seat and let my spirit drive. It always has, but I'll just stop nagging it.

Aloha.

Like ripe avocados

I've been working out every single morning, and I do it because I absolutely love it. I also do it because I don't want to be fat. Yesterday evening I returned from work, and took off my shirt in preparation to jump in the shower. The phone rang, so I ended up spending a bit of time topless... and damn if I do love my boobs now. I'm still bigger than I was by a good eight pounds, but my abs are tight and the boobs are luscious. It's time to make peace.

I feel like two people very close to me are upset with me because I wasn't pregnant. I think about it daily; the what-ifs, the conversations had, the silence now. I did not choose to remain childless, but it happened. It's making me feel like I've disappointed those I love and who were most supportive at one time. I still haven't fully cried about it. A couple of tears, nothing satisfying, not for months.

I daydream of remaining on Kauai, drifting in the Pacific, anchoring myself further to this wild land and people. I have a small tribe here now. A good job. And I know that I will meet someone to love and that it will be soon if I open myself up to it.

Here's an avocado that my neighbor gave me that's almost as big as my head:


Aloha.