The Unexpected Find In The Hidden Valley

 

The mist was blowing off the ocean into the hidden valley. I led my friends down the wooded path and pointed out matter of factly-“That’s where the unicorns are”. They didn’t believe me and laughed off my comment. But in the mist, I saw my old friends tossing their manes in the onshore breeze and probably wondering if this time, I’d brought people who could actually see them.  Sadly, or maybe selfishly, I knew these friends could not. If they were able to, they would be in utter amazement like the first time I was when I saw their prancing white bodies on the black sand. 

 

As my friends headed off up the hill to continue their hike, I ran to the unicorns, lost to their beauty, like the first time I found them. Their hoof prints were buried in deep half circles in the ebony sand. Their guttural nickering was almost as loud as the incoming surf. Five of them-one of me.

 

When I first found them, I was alone, as my husband decided to sleep in that morning when I got up early declaring my need to drive over an hour to the valley where ancient civilizations once reigned. I wanted to get in a fast hike before the rest of the world arrived.

 

So, I struck out on my own personal adventure saying goodbye to my sleeping children and my husband who, with good reason, decided to let me go on a personal adventure without a teenager telling me once again “Let’s go get some ice cream because there’s nothing to do down here anyway.” The entertainment of swinging on a hammock and watching the clouds chase one another across the sky was not yet in their wheel house of amusement. 

 

I drove with my music on full volume. I could blast it alone today! Maybe I should have known something special awaited me today as I was in such a glorious mood of freedom. 

 

I drove into the tiny parking lot, got out at the lookout, and took my time there.   The cliffs were lit with early morning light. I took a deep breath and felt into the gratitude of the moment. 

Then I started down. 

 

The path into the valley is dotted with mini boulders and protrusions of old roots and rocks just waiting to trip up the unaware.  Once at the bottom, the entrance to the valley is framed in Pinion pine trees, their needles creating a soft carpet upon entry. 

The mouth of the river requires agility while crossing when its running into the ocean and beyond that you step off onto a trail marked with slate grey river rocks into the forest beyond. 

 

Once I was on the trail that morning, the world got quiet. The sound of the surf was ever present, but the forest had a sound of its own-if you could actually hear what the sound of respect, humbleness and gratitude is-that’s what you can hear when you walk this path. Hand made signs remind you to care for the land. 

 

No footsteps are heard on the cushion of pine needles built up over millennia on top of a solid substrate of sand. 

 

I looked up from this path and that’s when I saw the mist rolling in off of the ocean and buried in that mist was the sound of deep throated nickering. The kind you hear when you feed a horse an apple. 

 

I wasn’t surprised at first. Wild horses roam freely in a valley thirty miles to the north. They were brought into the valley by farmers to help work the fields and many went feral. They beg tourists for picnic apples and carrots. I have photographed their beautiful forms crossing the valley river as if in a dreamscape. 

 

But this sound and feeling was different. For you see-this time the hair on my arms stood at full attention. The kind of “chicken skin” you get when someone tells you they walked through a cemetery and they sense they are not alone. 

 

I knew I was being watched and the nickering and chuffing was getting closer.  

As I walked down the beach, driftwood pieces crunching under my feet, I stared into the mist and saw what looked like a small group of white horses. 

Until I saw their manes were made of flowing ocean mist and they had single twisted horns that resembled the rare yellow and red sunshine shells that are well known in Hawaii. 

 

What was I seeing? As is usual when I’m staring at something beautiful and amazing, I reached for my iPhone. Upon seeing the device, I received an almost psychic feeling of “No!”. 

 

I dropped it back into my pocket as if it had burned me. 

What just happened here? 

 

Before I could really process this obviously odd occurrence, I heard, “Follow us”. 

The five mystical creatures led me to a driftwood shelter on the edge of the beach caught between the sand and the pine needles and forest beyond. 

I peered into this seemingly simple structure of tossed wood and felt that this was the opening into something I wasn’t yet ready to venture into. 

They seemed to understand my hesitancy in the face of the invitation. 

I knew I’d be ready to do this later. This adventurous feat would have to wait a bit. That bit that happens when children have graduated from school and you lightly shove them off into adulthood. That moment when you can step into the maw of an epic journey and know it’s for yourself and no one else. 

 

I would have to come another day. 

 

I thanked the unicorns for the invitation into Magic World. I thanked them in a way that included the feeling of excitement that my life would one day be my own again and a tinge of sadness that when I could give a full body “Yes!” it would also mean that I was saying goodbye to being the, “Let’s get up and get you some breakfast” mom. 

 

Walking down into that space within the driftwood cave, beckoned on by the unicorns to a place where magic awaits..it will be an amazing experience..one I’ll get to when I’m ready. 

 

I waved goodbye to my unicorn friends as I headed back to my life. 

They told me to come back when I’m ready to explore the unknown. “Ok-I will!” I emphatically said. 

 

I almost sprinted up the rocky path back to my car. The sounds of the ocean faded further away as I ascended but the feeling of coming back to one day step into that cavernous space with those beautiful creatures had me giddy for the future. 

 

They didn’t tell me not to speak of their existence, but I knew. The valley, almost like the island itself, calls to the lucky few. The ones who come and can’t see, they are not the ones the unicorns show up for anyway. The magic shows up for the ones who feel into the spaces where the energy sparkles. 

You’ll know it when you see and experience it: a unicorn may appear. 

 

Dear John

I am listening to an old song by Taylor Swift called, Dear John.

I used to cry to this song remembering how much I sobbed during the most painful break up in my adult life to a boyfriend named John. You know the kind of break up that takes you to your knees as you can literally feel your soul being sucked out of your body?


 I can laugh thinking about how I am trying to explain that feeling because after 30 years, that aching feeling is a memory. Thank God, but my 18 year old daughter told me that she wants to know how it feels to have a broken heart. Oh, baby girl, you don't.

Of course, as a mom, you want to never watch your child go through the pain of loss, but then you would be robbing them of the experience of having your whole being skipping with joy in the drunken feeling of infatuation. Again, it's been over 20 years since I have felt that, too!

"Dear John, see it all now that you're gone".

The highs, the lows, the misery, fear, longing...

Looking back, could I have skipped those years from when I met John in 1991, to when we finally called it as friends..and then, Lord, we moved into together as room mates as thirty somethings with slim pickings to share housing costs in Silicon Valley in 1996. By then, I was over it, but funny enough, when my now husband came on the scene, John had his hackles up. He moved out soon after it became apparent that I had found the one I would marry.

John attended my wedding in 1999 and he even came to visit me with his wife in 2012 in Hawaii.

Somewhere along the way, John dropped off Facebook and we lost touch. I learned from his Facebook feed that we was much more conservative than I would have ever put up with as I moved on through life. That seems to remind me as I listen to old songs about how it was just never meant to be. I wish I had known all that when I was in the pit of despair thinking of how could I possibly change myself to somehow be better for him and then he would love me. Now I know that I did not love myself enough to let someone make me feel that way. The gift is passing on the wisdom to my daughter as she finds her way in the dating world.

And Taylor, thanks for the song to bring back the memories of how life teaches us what we need to know.

Tokens of Kindness

Please allow me to introduce you to a kindness strategy I recently learned from my friend Vasi, one of the most generous, but also strategic, financial award/tippers/kindness dollar awarders I have ever met. 

Vasi, a three degree earner, kick ass Realtor and immigrant from Romania, ensures she has three things in her arsenal of kindness- $5 and $10 bills and $20 Starbucks cards. 

Vasi, who most people have disregarded due to her Romaninan accent and dimunitive stature, is a literal powerhouse of good karma and aloha spirit. She knows how hard service people work and she also knows how many connections service people have in a community. 

Vasi buys Starbucks gift cards mainly from one store in her neighbhorhood of Redmond, Washington, a hotbed of millennials and Gen Xers living the good life from local companies such as Amazon, Microsoft, Facebook and Boeing.

The Starbuck baristas are the front line for people moving into the area and Vasi has invested in good will among this army of referral providers. When a potential new resident tells one of Vasi’s many admirers that they are considering a home purchase in the area, they are quick to refer Vasi as a local expert on the area and one of the nicest, most generous people they know. Yes, Vasi funds her giving spirit from many of the referrals born from her exuberant generosity. 

I had the benefit of Vasi’s good will this week. She wanted to support a woman’s conference being spearheaded by a fellow Washingtonian in California where the entire conference was created to support women in real estate become leaders.  Her friend, Debra, was one of the masterminds behind the group. Debra had been instrumental in providing a job opportunity for Vasi when she was going through a painful divorce and Vasi never forgets who has supported her in the past. 

Vasi contacted me on a Monday for the Thursday conference. The conference still needed a few more attendees and she wanted to see if I could fly from Hawaii to San Diego to attend. I was hemming and hawing over the cost of the flights and hotel and such and she said, ‘I think this would benefit you personally and your career . I am taking care of your airfare, conference pass and trip costs so you can go." I nearly fell out of my chair, taking the computer with me on my journey to the floor. 

What!? Who does that?

Vasi assured me that I had given her enough insight, ideas, and friendship in the past to warrant this gift. I am still amazed at the generosity she gave to me to support another friend accomplish HER goals of selling out the conference. 

I arrived in San Diego and started learning. Not just from the conference, but by watching Vasi spread kindness over the course of three days.

Whenever she had the chance to show appreciation to the hotel staff including bar tenders and food servers, she would tip them generously. She said that all service personnelle in tourist destinations were never making enough for the high price of housing in the area. Living in Kailua Kona, Hawaii, I know this to be acutely true.  She said that not only do her 25-30% tips make the service provider happy, it also helps their families. 

She got this idea from a book she read by Gary Vaynerchuck, "The Thank You Economy" where he writes that the roll down of money through generosity into the economy benefits us all. 

We took a Lyft ride to a shopping mall 30 minutes away to get a few things for my daughter that vasi wanted to get for my daughter as we do not have shopping malls within 200 miles of us. The Lyft driver was a great guy telling us why he drove for Lyft and sharing stories with us of his time on the great barrier reef.  He was going to leave us in the shopping mall when vasi asked how much he would need to stay and wait for us, as we were basically turning around and driving back to the same area we had come from. He gave us a fair price for his time and we ran into the shopping mall.

After purchasing coveted items for my daughter, which I know she is going to be gleefully receiving, she asked, "What about your son?" I assured her that she had already done enough for my family and that my son was a pretty basic teenager who just liked shoes and sweatshirts. So she insisted in going into the Vans store to purchase a few things to make him feel special. I can tell you that both of my children will forever by calling Vasi, Aunty!

We went back out into the parking lot where our driver was more than happy to gather our things and put them into the trunk. He then drove us to dinner at a nice hotel and gave us his personal card  and he received a very nice tip for his work, which I know made his evening. 

Watching this ebullient flow of generosity was fun! The heartfelt smiles, the big hug Vasi received from the driver, the joy I was feeling for the gifts to myself and my children-it was a swirling feeling of abundance. 

I asked Vasi about all of this soulful generosity she was sharing.  She said, ‘It always comes back around’ and she said it made her feel good, too. She said that she has gotten all kinds of referrals and business from a simple sharing of a Starbucks gift card to someone who is in a position to accept the kindness and then do something later to elevate the kindness back to her. She has sent me a few online gift cards and you can bet as I am enjoying a ‘coffee on vasi’ I am sending her good juju. 

She said, ‘Always have 5s and 10s in your pocket book to reward the people who do good things and deserve a little extra financial happiness. You never know how it will come back."

On the way to the airport today, Vasi insisted on ordering the Lyft so she could take care of it. She also handed me ten dollars and said, "Don’t forget the driver" and we laughed when we knew the extra five dollars was because she was a woman. I told the story to my driver about the generosity of kindness from Vasi and she was touched by the story and when I handed her double what Vasi had given to me, she was exceptionally touched..a mother of four children putting herself through school. 

I was positively beaming giving her that extra tip, expecting nothing in return, just the happiness of giving her an extra boost of "wow" before she went on to her next ride. 

You can call it a random act of kindness or if you are like Vasi, you can know that it sets a ripple effect out into the universe for good things to come back in ways you never know. 

Spending time with someone who was so generous to me and others was transformative. To be in the light cast by Vasi is to feel blessed. I am going home now with the anticipation of watching my children open their gifts and knowing I had an amazing three days to watch happiness being dispensed with joy and abundance. 

Tip your service people, friends. You never know the ripple effect. It might not only touch your heart, but your business, as well. 

Trial By Social Fire

“I am alone. I am utterly alone. How did I get up here in front of hundreds of bar goers singing “Bye Bye Miss American Pie” at karaoke night alone?” I was screaming this in my head as I was trying to belt out yet another stanza during the longest song in the world.  You know those nightmares you have about being naked? That is how I felt that night in New York City during an evening out after attending a business conference all day.  The ring leader of the group, a fiery beautiful redhead, had suggested it. Of course she did, because she could sing and be the star. I did not know this woman before the conference, but now, five years later, I have gotten to see her rising star in social media.  Back then we were still on a rather level playing field. Or so I thought.

It started out with a group of women from different regions of the country coming together to meet in person after developing friendships on social media. We greeted each other with hugs and laughs and then the sizing up started. By lunch time, I had been relegated to the “support for the industry and not the leader” in the group. But I didn’t care, as I enjoyed my support role in marketing and PR and I was just damn happy to be in New York City, learning more about social media, without the responsibilities of family. However, I was there alone and clearly, by lunch, I knew my next best friend was not in the group.

A few men decided to join us after dinner and the plan to go to a bar off of Broadway for karaoke night was hatched. I was game, as it’s always fun to sing in a bar with a group of people. A GROUP of people. The ladies started putting their names in for various songs while I sat back with my glass of chardonnay enjoying the atmosphere of the joint. The redhead was an amazing singer and she soaked up the spotlight. Then someone asked me what I was going to sing. I wasn’t going to sing anything, I thought, since I firmly believe I am a backup singer at best or a song leader, like my days in the sorority at college. A cheerleader for music, you could say, but not the main attraction. So, the men we were with really started goading me into doing SOMETHING, so I suggested a group song that the entire bar could sing along with. And Don Mclean’s anthem to the past was a good choice for a group sing along, or so I thought.

The MC called my name and I was giddily pushed to the stage by these new social media friends of mine. The music started, “Long long time ago,,,” and then I realized that NO ONE was singing along with me. I kept going. God help me, I kept going. I was thinking, “Surely, the whole bar will jump in when it gets to the “So, bye bye, Miss American Pie” part. Oh no. Those rat bastards did not raise their voices to help the poor struggling soul in the middle of the spotlight on Broadway. I looked imploringly to my group of people and saw the “What the hell!?” look on their faces. I refused to quit and walk off that stage. So, I kept going.

Painful is a word you may use for the last leg of an Ironman. Or childbirth or setting a broken leg. But what I experienced up there, warbling at a TV screen on the wall, while hundreds of drunk people were wishing I would shut up and get off that stage is whole new world of what pain feels like. Finally, an actually musically talented man jumped in to save me. He stood next to me and we hammered out those last two stanzas together. And for a moment, it was fun. And I could breathe. I thanked him profusely as I left that stage and I approached the group of my new friends. The shock and dismay on their faces was evident. I had embarrassed myself to such a degree that I had sunk to a level of social low that there was no recovery. The red head suggested that it was time to hit the next bar down the street and as they hurriedly walked away, I realized I was shunned.

Alone in New York City, I walked towards Times Square feeling pretty shitty. There is a reason that being shunned was the ultimate punishment for rule breakers in the Native American tribes. I got to Times Square, and looked up at the crystal ball that rings in the New Year. The decorations were still up, as it was January. I felt the crisp air on my face, a rather new sensation after spending a few years in Kona’s warm weather. I thought of my friends on the island and what they would think of me if they had been there. Then I envisioned them singing along with me and I felt better.

I wasn’t going to waste precious time, standing in one of the most iconic places in the world, feeling sorry for myself. I asked a tourist to take a photo of me with my arms outstretched in the middle of Times Square. As she snapped the photo, which I have on my shelf to this day, I was thinking, “I did it. I got here to New York City. I survived a horrible trial by fire socially and dammit, I sang on Broadway”. Then I walked back to my hotel, alone, but with my head held high.

A Big Life: Feeling the Feels

Now that I am getting older and have experienced enough in life to understand how it feels to: lose a baby, lose parents, lose a job, be a child of divorce, be there to watch life start and life end, hold an infant and know what it will look like in 15 years and kissing its sweet face because it's a fleeting moment, be abused, be admired, have my heart broken to the point I am crawling on the floor, be so head over heels in love that I thought I was floating on air, be trapped in disappointment, be uplifted by life's miracles, cry happy tears at my friend's weddings and triumphs and cry bitterly sad tears at my friends losses and frustrations, be scared, afraid and anxious, be joyful, hopeful and light, work so hard for something that when I signed the mortgage papers, crossed the finish line, held my newborn baby, moved to Hawaii, I burst with pride and tears.

I know what it's like to ride out a hurricane, watch the devastation of a tsunami, a lava flow, a wildfire and a 7.9 earthquake. Swim with a dolphin that looked into my soul and cradle a dying kitten. To feel the shame of losing a home (or two) and our credit rating to the camaraderie with others in the same boat. To feeling so lost and alone it felt that I could not go on, to being surrounded by so many friends that there were not enough high fives and toasts for everyone. 

A life made up of just about every up and down beside war you can imagine. That is why today I didn't question why I would cry watching 70 people linking themselves arm and arm to save a family in the ocean in Florida, or cry when a friend who is a NICU nurse said she experienced the loss of a baby girl today, or hear that a friend got out of the hospital after thinking she was going to die of liver failure. This is a big life. We have been given this gift to fully experience such heartbreaking downs and such ecstatic ups. I never could have known that when I turned 52 that I would have the level of empathy, compassion, and love for humanity that I do. It's painful at times and I am also deeply grateful for 'the feels" as my friends say. It's what binds me together with so many of you. #FeelingTheFeels#HoldingMuchInMyHeart #HoldingSpace #WiseFinally

Responses:
I wish all my fingers were thumbs, so I could give you TEN thumbs up for one of the most heart-centered posts I've ever read. Hope you feel me wrapping my arms around you for all that you've endured and accomplished and shared so bravely. <3 Reminded me of yet another quote: "The more that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain." - Kahlil Gibran

From Sand to Snow And The Lessons Learned

 Journeys are inherently adventures where part of the fun and the learning is in the not knowing of what is going to happen once you take that first step.  Now that first step can either be on a soft sandy beach or off the top of a snow covered cliff. Let’s just say that we should have brought some parachutes for the journey we started on last summer.

 My family and I moved off of Hawaii Island last July, after moving there in July 2010,  to seek exciting job opportunities, mainland travel, and better education for my kids and to get away from the heat and humidity of Kona. My kids were bored of the island after six years there and when we couldn’t sell our small condo that we purchased at the height of the housing market boom and where all four of us were living in 750 sq feet, we felt Pele, Goddess of the Volcano, was telling us it was time to leave and I agreed wholeheartedly with her. I had other things to do and places to explore on the mainland, so we moved to South Lake Tahoe to live in my father in law’s vacation home.

Fast-forward 10 months. We have survived the great winter, or commonly known as the “Snowpacalypse” of 2017 in Lake Tahoe with 25 feet of snow in our neighborhood and 50 feet in the mountains. We survived the rainiest October in 113 years, we have been through avalanches, mudslides and landslides which have damaged highways that shut off all traffic coming into the Tahoe Basin for days, flooding and wind storms. It feels as if Pele herself reached her hand out across the Pacific ocean to slap us for taking her beautiful island for granted.

Sitting on my 100^th or so day in the biting cold, looking at another day of white in our front yard, I knew I had had enough. In January and February, the sun set by 4 pm and the dark came in each day with its freezing temperatures and usually more snow. Have you even considered snow as the ultimate four-letter word? We do! It lost whatever charm and appeal it ever had for us by the second week in February when

weather forecasters were warning of yet another “Pineapple Express” or atmospheric river event. As people in the SF Bay Area were being warned of flooding, we were getting two feet of snow each time one hit us. Sure we have loved skiing – but there is not much else to do when it’s 30 degrees outside and all the paths you love are 4 feet deep in snow. The boots, scarves, puffy jackets and mittens that we had longed to wear in Kona, were now uniforms of daily life.

   Longing for Hawaii really started in January and has now reached a fever pitch. Taking a solo trip back to Kona in late April was the extra kick in the ass I received by Pele. As I hugged my friends, I realized how important community is. I had taken it for granted.  In Kona, I had volunteered extensively for my children’s school and produced and promoted events for the island over seven years, which created a circle of hundreds of friends and an enviable network of community members.  In Tahoe, we have met very few people and have a few adult friends who are the parents of our children’s school friends, but they have not developed into close friends. Coming to Lake Tahoe, I thought we would create a new hub of community, but when it starts to snow in October and the weather does not get better until late May, opportunities to invite people for beach picnics and drinks on the patio for networking are slim.

When I lived in Kona, I had started taking everything for granted. I didn’t jump into the ocean anymore. Why? Because there would always be tomorrow. I spent more time raising money for my kids school than wandering through gardens and along beaches giving thanks to the universe, spirit and Pele herself for the bounty and beauty everywhere. I worried about how expensive the food was, and forgot that many things available on the island never show up at grocery stores on the mainland.

I went snorkeling in Ka’ahalu’u Bay during my time back on the island and I just was not just delighted to see Yellow Tang and Moorish Idol fish, I was elated to swim down and see the sand! In Lake Tahoe, the water is so cold that you can barely stand in it, let alone swim in its frigid water long enough to see what is floating along the bottom. The extra sensory opportunities in Kona are everywhere from the flowers to the food to the aquamarine ocean waters. Take for instance the fresh papaya with lime I enjoyed each morning for breakfast, savoring each bite like a death row inmate’s last meal. As you can imagine, fresh tropical fruit is not found in the Sierra. Each time I smelled a plumeria or gardenia, or left a friend’s house after talking story, I whispered to Pele to let her know how much I loved her island and to please let me come home. The lesson of the journey has been learned.

 My husband has decided the journey needs to end, as well. He is working on finding a job back on the island.  As of May, he has had three job interviews. Excited about the possibility of another job offer showing up soon, he has itemized everything in the house to either put on Craigslist or store for a quick escape back to Kona. Back to Kona where you don’t walk out of your house after putting layers of clothing on and wondering if your tires are going to hold today on the black ice, back to where Aloha is a way of life and people take the time to talk to strangers and share a laugh. Where you don’t flip off a another driver simply because they don’t have their right hand turn signal on when making the turn so ten seconds of life is lost. The new focus of our journey is finding a way back out of the cold; the cold that has had its grip on our lives for months. The cold that sucks the joy right out of us. The cold that makes it impossible to eat outside and enjoy the sun and nature with friends-if we had any.

 Do I regret all of this? No. I don’t because I have something invaluable. I have perspective now and I needed it. I have had perspective beaten into me like a sadistic circus master. When I sprawled out on the sand with warmth surrounding me on my April visit to Kona, I know I’ve changed. I love it there. I miss my friends, my ability to make a difference, the fresh food grown by happy local farmers, the spirit of the people, and the energy of the land.

   I feel blessed that I’ve had this horrific learning lesson-I mean soul-finding journey! Now, when I come back, I have gratitude in my heart and in my actions and the journey now is making it a reality.