Car Karma, Jellyfish, Centipedes and other signs that make me think: "Is the Island Testing Me?"

I can't tell you how many people have told me "This island will test you. It will let you know if it doesn't want you here. It will chew you up and spit you out."

I always picture Tom Hanks from Joe vs. the Volcano as he and Meg Ryan are hurled out of the Volcano and land unscathed in the ocean along with their disaster resistant luggage. Some locals say that the island, just as the Volcano from the movie, decides who will stay or go… but I don't see it that way.

I enjoy the idea that there is this personified "Maui God" that either embraces you into the folds of his palm trees and sandy beaches or rains down a plague of cane dust and centipedes but I can't quite swallow it. I have always had trouble leaving all the control of my life in the hands of a mythical creature.

The reality is that a lot of people come to Maui and find out that paradise is not all it is cracked up to be. They don't get launched off the island by a fire breathing mountain but the effect is similar. Truth be told, this island will test you and how you handle those challenges is whether or not you will stay.

For me, it is all about how you story the challenges in your life that make up your success. We can play the victim to circumstances. We can say "it's not meant to be." We can get angry. We can say "it's not fair" and we can let the tides, the wind, the stinging tentacles of jellyfish decide our life path.

We also have the ability, a chance, to look at that which challenges us as part of our own master plan to become stronger, healthier, more connected to all that is human beings.

I think there are many people who would come to Maui, have my experience and be on the first plane home. Some of you may know my issues with "Car Drama." It has felt like an uphill battle since the beginning. I bought a car that died, I revived it, and it died again. I basically give the old heap of medal to a friend and the car somehow magically rebuilds itself. It is uncanny. Then just as I am walking out to my newer car, thanking my lucky stars to have a decent working vehicle, I see someone has smashed in my window. What? I could story these incidents many ways. I could say that the glorious Maui God has decided that I should go back to the mainland. I could say that the island is testing me and I obviously don't have what it takes. I could also choke it up to "Car Karma." Maybe I was a used car dealer in my past life and made some shady dealings and now I have to pay. Sucks!

I am not going to story it those ways. I like finding a story that gives fair responsibility to all parties but also brings me into some new awareness for myself and gives me a feeling of growth. My car drama-karma has been frustrating to say the least. But through it I have found that I can pull through these things. Sometimes you need to be knocked on your ass a few times before you can get up to see how strong you really are.

When my last incident with the car happened I felt an over-all sense of well being. It came from knowing that whatever comes my way I know how to get through it. It has been a costly lesson (don't even get me started) but one in which I am willing to pay. When I ran into the jellyfish on my surfboard I thought; "Yes! Thank you. This is scary but now I know that I can survive this too!"

The island will test you. I have now been stung by jellyfish, bruised by surfboards, yelled at by locals, frightened by centipedes, broken down on the highway, tire blown up, and that is just to name a few.

These are not signs that the Maui God wants me off the Island.
These are signs that I have been given an opportunity to learn and grow in ways that I never thought imaginable.

I picture the Maui God in all his might looking down from the Volcano and saying (in a great booming voice); "Casselle, we want you here… but we will not let the tropical sun and sandy beaches make you lazy and dull. We want you strong and sharp. You will be given a set of tests to discover just how much power you have inside of you."
I look up to the Volcano and I think "Bring it on Maui!"

So that's my story, and I am sticking to it!

Running Up, Up, and Away

I am not a runner. I am hardly a jogger. In fact, I don't even like speed walking.
So then why, I ask you, have I decided to take on a marathon???

Mostly I am inspired by my roommate Ann, who just finished her first marathon with her Dad last month. Though her toe nails might be falling off along with several layers of epidermis, the smile on her face is priceless.

Another motivator is the fact that living on Maui has become akin to a permanent vacation as far as culinary delights go. (PS: You can get fat from eating too much coconut and pineapple. Total bummer!) As I am in no way willing to decrease my intake of coconut and pineapple I have had to find a way to burn up those calories.

Then we have the simple fact that running in moderation is one of the easiest ways to stay healthy. All you need is a pair of shoes and some beautiful scenery (which I have ample access to) and you are off. Within two minutes from my home I am running along side the coast. As my feet kick into gear to some Michael Jackson beats I stride along one of the best kite and windsurfing beaches in the world.

Running beside the highway, against the wind, dodging cars that are paying too much attention to the waves than to that blond runner (being me),I will occasionally receive a honk of encouragement from a stranger or a friend will drive by and yell something nasty at me that makes me laugh. It makes me feel connected to my home, my community and friends. It's like facebook but…well… real.

All of these are motivating factors to get me off the couch and on the road.
Today, however, on my afternoon run I found something new. Something miraculous and inspiring. And no I am not talking about that crazy foot-long centipede that crossed my path.

I am talking about an intense body-spirit-mind connection.
I am talking heart pumping, joy dripping, existential release baby!
I am talking it don't matter if your black or white, rich or poor or good or bad because this is the only moment you got honey! I am talking ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no ocean wide enough to keep me from reaching any goal I set for myself.

My feet hit the ground, and push off. The muscles in my legs engage. My mouth opens to take in breath as beads of sweat trickle down my spine. I look towards the Maui Mountains as the waves crash into the North Shore on my left and the wind brings me scents of Mock Orange and Plumeria.

I rise up and above myself to see this little thing that is my life. I see her pushing and striving along the coast of Hana Highway. I see the tears and sweat that drip down her cheeks as she releases all the days stress. I rise up a little more to see all the surfers in the water, studying the waves, pushing their bodies to the limit for a chance to feel the power of the tides. Up a little more I see my island. I see all the people striving and driving against their own wind, trying to find their wave, their stride in life. It is just as I, that little speck now, is trying to find her pace.

And I think: "What incredible creatures we humans are! How powerful our bodies, mind and spirit!" Others may say the human race is doomed but I don't believe it. I see too many examples of strength, desire, creation.
These are the things I see in myself as I push myself past my own limits.
Kona Marathon… here I come!

Love Affair

Can you remember falling in love? You know how everything looks a little brighter and everything tastes a little sweeter? You know how every step you take has a bit of a bounce to it? Isn't it amazing how, when you are in love, even the most mundane of things, such as a trip to the grocery store or doing the dishes, has a certain sparkle to it?

I am in love. And the object of my affection…
A giant land mass in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

She is everything I could ever want; beautiful, diverse, cultured, playful, magical and warm and for the past four months I have been falling head over heels for her.

You know those first stages of love, where each meeting with your partner is like unfolding the packaging of a delicious treat? You carefully, slowly, open her up, treasuring each new bit of information that brings you closer to her. Each week I unwrap a new piece of this island, place it in my mouth and let it melt. Each week I find myself crying as I drive down the curves of this gorgeous rock, so thankful that she has let me in, so grateful that she thinks me worthy enough to embrace.

And yet I am fearful.
As with any new relationship I am wary of the potential disaster that comes from opening your heart up. I am vulnerable to this islands mysterious nature. Will she let me down? Will I let her down? I search for that hidden vice that will send this love affair to a screeching halt. This can't last, can it?

My lover has her faults I won't lie.
I could do without the ants in the kitchen and the cane field dust that covers all my belongings. But these imperfections are like the small freckles on your lovers face, or the scar on his back.
They are the flaws that make her real to you, that bring you closer.

It seems strange to have a love affair with an island.
I am sure my family would rather me fall in love with a land mass closer to home with more affordable housing but what can you do?
You can't choose where you love…

Cultural Lesson

Breathless, spiritless, thief, and foreigner are all words that define the Hawaiian word "Haole" (pronounced how-lee). The origins of the word go back to the first Caucasians who came to the island and would not engage in the Polynesian greeting of touching nose to nose. It has since been used in years as a racially derogatory word for those with white skin and has been a cornerstone of hate crimes. (There was actually a "Kill Haole Day" tradition in the schools where non-white children would assault white children.) The word has taken on a variety of contexts but has a more common and "accepted" use today to describe those of us mainlanders who move over to the islands and have no idea what we are getting ourselves into.

There is no way to escape the "Haole" title. You can run from it or you can hide from it but no matter what you do or how long you live here, you are still a Haole. The best thing to do is to embrace it and work with it. The other thing you must do is to find ways to educate yourself about Hawaiian culture so you don't continuously disrespect others due to your own unfortunate ignorance.

In my work on Maui I have the chance to work with locals (families who have lived here for a long, long, time). I get to go into their homes, eat their food, hold their babies, and be a part of their lives. This has given me occasion to learn a lot about cultural norms and has given me equal occasion to make a lot of mistakes. I find myself saying "no disrespect" and "sorry" a lot.

I would like to give some pointers to those of you who plan to visit Maui and who may stray from the tried and true tourist locations. This list is only the beginning. Like I said: you can't help but be a Haole. Embrace it, love it and follow this list to avoid any major guffaws.

First off: always take your shoes off before going inside a home. Even if they tell you you don't have to. Even if your feet stink. Even if it is going to take you an hour because you have those cute little sandals with all the belts and buckles and whistles on them. Stop and take them off.

Second: always give a hug and kiss a cheek upon meeting someone new or upon greeting someone. This is a hard one for us Haole's who are concerned about our personal space. I personally love touching people (that sounds weird) as a form of greeting so have no problem with this.

Third: Respect! Never forget that you are visiting someone else's home, even when you are walking the shops of Wailea or cruising at the beach. You may be on vacation and having a "faaaaaaabulous time" without a care in the world but others are simply trying to pay their bills and put food on the table. You think it's expensive to go visit Hawaii? Try living here and raising your children here and taking care of your elderly parents here. Most people on Maui have two jobs. Client's always ask me what my other job is. It is a way of life. So next time you go buy groceries and the checker smiles at you, smile back and offer them up respect anyway you can. When you are driving down the road and you see a stunning sunset try finding a shoulder to pull off on before getting the camera out. It may seem quite natural to stop in the middle of a highway to look at the beautiful ocean but for the five cars behind you who are already late to work… not so beautiful.

The truth is that everyone on Hawaii is a "Haole" of some variety, even the most local of locals (I hope I don't get killed for saying this). The only true "Hawaiians" were the Menehune people who were wiped out when the first settlers came from the Marquesas Islands and then from Tahiti. All of these Haoles came to Hawaii and new they found something amazing, a paradise. So enjoy yourself here. We are all just visitors. No matter how long you plan to stay, whether it's a week, a year or a lifetime, never forget to stop and smell the warm tropical air or scarf down a fresh lilikoi you snagged from the side of the road. Get your body in the ocean as much as you can and take yourself for a walk through some bamboo. Just take your shoes off when you come back. Kisses!

Jumping

There is a moment, after your feet have pushed you off the craggy surface of the rock, where you are airborne. You float there for a millisecond, weightless and free. Your heart is beating. Your stomach is in your chest. You feel both exhilarated and frightened and you think: "What in God's name am I doing?" as you crash into the surface of the water below.

I am not a fan of jumping off of things, especially giant large things towering above the ocean. Call me crazy but I believe I came into this world in one piece and I would like to leave it as such. So then why do I consistently find myself on the aforementioned "giant large things" getting ready to hurl my fragile body into the unknown murky waters far, far below?

There is a moment when you find yourself pushing past the fears and thoughts that keep you stuck. There is a moment when you say "I can do this" and everything begins to change. That's what jumping off rocks does for me, it changes things.

I have been thinking a lot about how it came to be that I live on Maui. How did this happen? I owe it to multiple factors which I will not spend too much time on here. In a nutshell: I was unhappy and stuck in a relationship that left me feeling lifeless and drained. I told myself I wanted to be happy and I clung to the feeling so hard that one day I knew exactly what I had to do. One day, a year ago exactly, I stood on the precipice of my life, and I jumped into the murky waters of the unknown. I had no idea how I was going to make it or if it was the right thing to do or if I would even survive. All I knew was that if there was any chance at happiness it would start with me jumping.

From that moment on I began testing my courage and taking more and more leaps into the unknown. Some of these were more profitable than others and yet each one opened up a new space in me, a new path, a new thought that expanded my awareness of what immense joy and happiness could actually be possible in my life.

The biggest leap came in back in June when I put myself onto the plane bound for Maui. High above the world I looked down and saw just how far away I was going. For hours and hours there was nothing but ocean. I wished there was someway I could hold onto the railing of my old life as I put a toe into test the waters of my new life. There is no railing for this kind of jump, no rope long enough, no security blanket. I had to freefall.

There is a moment when you find yourself atop a rock and you don't stop to think "Can I do this? Will it hurt? What could possibly go wrong? What is the point in this? If E=Mc2 then why the hell am I about to jump off of a giant rock 30 feet above the ocean?" You don't stop to think because then you would never do it. And something inside you says "Do it! Be bigger, grow, jump, hurl, challenge yourself to go past what you think you can do."

I am not saying everyone should break up with their fiance, quit their job, sell off all their belongings and move to a giant Volcano in the ocean where they can hurl their body off of rocks on a weekly basis. What I am saying is that everybody should look at where they limit themselves and find a way to push beyond. It can be as simple (or as difficult) as thinking a brand new thought. When was the last time you thought a brand new thought for yourself? What would happen if you spent an entire morning trying to think all new thoughts. It is harder than it sounds but an unbelievable experience. It takes the same amount of courage and strength for me to move my foot off the edge of the cliff.

Each week I get braver about my cliff jumping and can go higher and higher with less fear. (My mother is cringing as she reads this.) It is a physical practice that reminds me of the benefits of pushing past what I think possible and pushing past what I "think" in general. There is no railing or safety rope as I do a cannonball into the sunset, only the wind racing past me, my heart in my throat and a smile of pure bliss on my face.

Go jump!

JoseZ and Me

Living on a small island means that you get to know your surroundings pretty quickly. After two months I am at a point where I can actually pronounce some of the main Hawaiian street names without butchering the hell out of them. Try "Kamehameha, Kaahumanu, Haleakala, Makawao." Living on a small island means that you get to know the people around you pretty quickly too. I'm not just talking about the people you work with or the people you live with. I'm talking about that homeless guy with the long blond hair that sits across the street from the laundry mat place all day, every day and stares into nothingness. I am talking about that 80 year-old woman who always puts her hair into pig tails and tries to sneak into Charley's Bar without paying. I am talking about the old black man with the tight jeans and the Shaman like beard who is always, always hitchhiking. I am talking about JoseZ.

The first thing JoseZ (Jose-Z) ever said to me was "Fuck You!" I was driving a teenage client back up to my office and I waved at JoseZ. He was hitchhiking, of course, and did not appreciate me not stopping to pick him up.

I was immediately affronted by his language and yet could not help but laugh. I told an acquaintance about my experience with the strange hitchhiker. "Oh, that's JoseZ," he said and he proceeded to tell me the story of my accoster.

(Side note: Everyone on Maui has a story. And better yet, everyone has a story about everyone else. Living on a small island means that you and your life are now open to the examination of others. They will then pass on their experience of you through a new-age technology called "Coconut Wireless." For example: Let us say that you happen to drink a little too much tequila one night at Charley's and happen to kiss a boy at the bar. Within a few days everyone on the island will know about it, especially the guy's fiancé (who he did not tell you about by the way) and all of a sudden someone who you have never met will be telling you a story about yourself with added accouterments. "Did you hear about that girl Casselle? I heard she is a swinger." WHAT?)

JoseZ's story, as told by those within the Coconut Wireless Network, goes a little something like this: "He makes magical potions in his big home Up-Country and is the heir to a fortune from his families coffee plantation in the jungles of Central America." Due to my own personal experience with Coconut Wireless I am led to doubt 95% of what I hear. Nevertheless, I was intrigued.

It was a few weeks later that I decided to let bygones be bygones and pick the man up and give him a ride. He stood on the side of the road with his white hat atop his head filled with years of dreadlocks. His outfit consisted almost entirely of skin-tight denim including a jacket. His black face and blue eyes peered through a large expanse of white beard. His only possessions were a cloth grocery bag stretched to the max with papers and scarves and god knows what else. There he was, his arm stretched lazily at his side with a dark long nailed thumb poking out of a fist.

I pulled over in my red jeep and he walked up to the window, peering at me suspiciously.
"Makawao?" he asked. "Sure," I said. I was supposed to be heading back up the hill to do paperwork and was excited to have an excuse to put it off for another hour. JoseZ climbed into my squeaky car and spent a few minutes adjusting himself and his bag before taking me in. He then began to talk to me about his business of making pure oils from the plants and fruits of the island. He spoke with a lisp and a highly animated feminine voice as he described the sweat and labor that goes into making his "potions" as he calls them. "Could the Coconut Wireless information be true?" I thought.

As we drove up the hill he reached into his bag ceremoniously to bring out several samples of his scents. Each one he would take out with great care and place under my nose for not one, not two, but three sniffs. I must admit, they smelled good. I immediately decided to buy one and as we pulled up to his drop off point he ruffled through his bag of plastics and glass and cloth and papers to find a small vile of my selected scent. I purchased the oil and said my goodbyes but not after having given JoseZ my phone number and the promise to see him again.

My next encounter with JoseZ was on the full moon. He called me and invited me to go with him to watch the moon rise. "It isth a very austhpicious time," he said in a dreamy lisp. I picked up my new friend and we drove down to the beach where he showed me a place behind a tree where he had lived for several months, quite happily. Most of the night was JoseZ talking and me listening. I had figured out earlier on in my conversations with him that he could not hear me. It was confusing because he was able to hear everyone elseand yet when I spoke he had to ask me several times what I was saying and then would just nod his head feigning comprehension. I had secretly tried out different volumes and intonations of my voice but to no avail. I simply gave up talking.

As I listened to him I was constantly weighing the Coconut Wireless information with the present stimuli I was receiving. "Could this guy me a millionaire?" I asked myself. I did think it strange when he asked me what I would do if I had a lot of money. His answer to the question…"If I had a lot of money," he said "I probably would not tell anyone about it and would live just as I live now." Curious response, don't you think?

The night under the moon provided me with a great deal of entertainment as JoseZ told me stories of his family (which he is completely disconnected from by the way), and his desires to move back to the jungles of Central America to get away from all the "fake and materialistic people of Maui."

Most exciting was his story of Willie Nelson coming up to him at Mana Foods (the grocery store in Paia) and dancing with him in front of the organic bananas. (Does everybody get to meet Willie, except me? For crying out loud!)

At the end of the night I brought JoseZ back to his home which is a quaint, clean Ohana studio. There he informed me he would need to move the next day due to not being able to pay rent. Atop his mediation pillow which doubled as his "soap box" he informed me how awful it is that people have money and that when the planes stop bringing food to the island everyone will start cutting each others throats. As he continued a diatribe into how horrible everyone is these days for demanding full rent and for not controlling their dogs (among other atrocities) I made a choice to not spend anymore time with JoseZ.

Millionaire or not, I don't care to spend my precious hours with people who think the world is going to hell in a hand basket. And I don't particularly enjoy not being heard. I have a lot to say, if you haven't noticed, and I enjoy saying it to others who are able to take it in. I don't think it was a coincidence that JoseZ could not hear me. I think he didn't want to hear me.

This thus concludes my experience of JoseZ. I would like to say this will be the end of the relationship all together but I doubt it. Living on a small island means that you are not able to avoid anyone for very long (nor their fiancés nor their fiancés friends who want to punch you). So the chances of JoseZ and me crossing paths again is imminent. Also imminent in this equation?

Small Island + Willie Nelson = Casselle meeting Willie Nelson. Oh yeah!

Looking for Willie

There is a small bar one mile down the street from me in the town of Paia called "Charley's." Charley's is owned by Willie Nelson's son who I am led to believe has a dog named "Charley." Other things I know about this bar include; great Tuesday Tacos, small venue for local bands, people get in fights in the back. What I didn't know about this bar, up until last week, was that it would set the stage for one of the big disappointments of my life.

Some historical information…

The first tape I ever owned as a child was Dire Straights, Sultans of Swing. But this is not a story about the first tape I ever owned. This is a story about the second tape I ever owned; Willie Nelson, Always on My Mind. I think my mom passed these tapes on to me as a wee child so I would have something to put in my Fisher Price Tape Player and Recorder. I remember using the microphone (attached to the aforementioned cassette player) and crooning along with Willie. I didn't know what we were singing about nor did I know most of the words but I knew that I liked it.

There is nothing like the songs of your youth. They serve as memories of simpler times, innocence and wonder. As Willie and I sang together an attachment was formed, a singular bond that has forever entwined his music and voice to all that is good in my world.

So you can imagine my excitement when Willie decides to put on a surprise performance at the local bar "Charley's" to promote his new album. We find out about it 10 am the day of the show and it is all I can do to stay in the office and complete my work. I feel like a child who is about to go to Disneyland. I feel giddy and anxious all at the same time.

Then something goes wrong. A family session I have scheduled becomes postponed due to a client crisis and I find myself sitting with my clinical director and the family when I should be in line getting my bracelet to see Willie. As the family discusses their perceived horrors of their teenager's future I am struggling with my own future horror... I am going to miss Willie. It was not my finest therapeutic hour I must admit.

I close the family session and jump in the rig to get to the bar. I get my place in line just as the bouncer comes out to announce that there is no more space. My heart sinks. "Willie…" the sad moan escapes my lips.

At home I watch as my roommate and her boyfriend prepare to go back to the bar to see Willie. (They were able to get bracelets earlier on.) I sit on the couch and watch them. My roommate can't name one Willie Nelson song and it is all I can do to not kill her. As I contemplate homicide or suicide my neighbor comes over.

"Casselle," he says reassuringly, "It is a small island. Willie lives down the street. You will see him again and it will be a lot more meaningful than seeing him in a jam packed bar."

The clouds began to lift. New thoughts and fantasies began to take hold. I could run into him at the beach, the grocery store, the gym (does Willie workout?). All the spots of my little town began to be filtered through my brain as possible opportunities to meet Willie. Maybe he likes Duck Tacos on Wednesday nights at Café Mambo or maybe he enjoys the rope swing down at Paia Bay. Where else could he be?

As I dazed off into my new stalker fantasy land my neighbor invited me over for steak dinner and a showing of Uncle Buck. Afterwards, with a filled belly of food and laughter I wandered back home and as I laid myself down to rest I made a promise to myself; "I will find Willie. Oh yes, I will find Willie."

One of these weeks I look forward to informing you all of my Willie meeting.
Stay tuned…

Stowaway

Someone snuck back with me on my return to Maui. I had spent a week in Minnesota visiting family and then two days in Portland before packing up some more of my storage space and flying back home, to Maui.

My bags were heavy. I had weighed them several times before getting to the airport to make sure they were under the allotted 50 pounds. They made the cut, barely. I had them jam packed with clothes, books, camping accoutrements and other "precious" personal items. Oh, the things we carry.

I checked the bags at the airport in Portland and then 8 hours later the bags and I found ourselves in the Kahului terminal. I waited for them as they made their rounds about the carousel. As I hoisted them off the rotating belt I noticed that they had become heavier during their travels. "What did I put in here?" I thought. "What have I brought back with me that has such weight?"

This morning I figured it out. It was 4 am when she woke me up. It was quiet except for the rain and the subtle Maui wind bouncing off the walls of our compound. Her presence started as a whisper in the dark room and then grew louder as I began to take notice.

I don't know how she made it into my luggage without me noticing. She must have squeezed in between my sleeping bag and my favorite Jane Austen novel. Or maybe she had wrapped herself around that painting of Summer Rain or slipped into the pockets of the jeans I could not live without. Whatever way she managed it I will never know. Somehow she made it over the vast infinity of ocean and now she was in my room. There she was, my little stowaway. Myself.

Myself sat on the edge of the bed and had me tossing and turning, trying to ignore her. It took about an hour before I actually validated her presence and confronted her. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "I thought I left you on the mainland." She just sat there and smiled at me.

I tried to reason with her. "I have a new life now. I am a new person. I am different. I don't need you and all your baggage around crowding in on my new experiences."
She was not moved.
I began to get angry with her. "Why did you have to come? You always mess everything up with all your past memories and your worries and your fears. Get out of here. I am trying to sleep for crying out loud."
She continued to smile, waiting for me to move through the necessary steps towards acceptance. I attempted bargaining; "Ok, fine. You can hang out here for a little bit but then you better get back on a flight to PDX. Or at least go hide in the closet so I don't have to look at you."
I finally gave up and became a little depressed. I came all this way, I thought. I have worked so hard to restart my life here only to find that somehow I brought my old self along for the ride.

I got out of bed and made myself a cup of coffee. I sat outside to watch the sun light up the banana trees. The wind grew stronger against my face and I closed my eyes. I felt my bare feet on the dirty ground and listened as the traffic on the street became louder.

They have a saying on Maui that "Two's are Hard." For those of us who move over from the mainland the "two's" are the developmental levels that you move through. Kind of like a real life Super Mario Game. Each Level is marked in intervals of "two's". After two weeks on Maui you get a little antsy thinking about all you have left behind. Two months is the next milestone. This is when you start to realize the reality of living so far away from everyone and everything you know. Two years is the next hurdle which I have heard is when most people cash in their chips and go back to wherever they came from. I am at the second level. The vacation is over. The reality is setting in. This is where I live.

I think I making my way through level two. This is my reality. Life on Maui. It means sunny days that heat up your core, oceans that rock you to sleep, and Kodak moments every weekend. But this reality comes at a price. It means no walks with my dad every week. It means no more burgers and beers with my brothers on Wednesday nights. It means no more coffee in the morning with my step mom and no more nights of Chardonnay drinking with my mom. It means that I can not be there with my sister as she tries on wedding dresses. It means being absent from all the life that happens in those in-between moments and there is no suitcase big enough in which I could pack up those truly precious things.

There is a cost to living in paradise than can never be balanced or justified. For those who choose to make this their home they must come to terms with this reality and I think that's the message Myself was bringing home.

"We really live here?" Myself asked. "We really live so far away?"
"Yes," I replied. "I guess its official, now that you are here. This is where we live."
"Wow," she said in wonder. "Thanks for bringing me along for the adventure."
"Did I have a choice?"
"Not really. I would have snuck over one way or another," she smirked, "but I thought coming over in your baggage was a good metaphor."

Maui Feet

Beware the feet of Maui. I have never seen such a mess of cuts, sores, scaling skin, flaking flesh and devastatingly dirty tootsies in my life. I thought Africa was bad what with the worms that grew under your toe nails but this is even worse. Everyday there is a new catastrophe. Maybe you hit your foot into coral or the fin of your surfboard cut a chick out of your ankle. You may even have the unfortunate experience of running into some Vana (Sea Urchin) with spikey black pokes that gouge into your skin and the only thing you can do is pee on it for some relief.

That is the worst of it. There are more day to day difficulties that the foot must face. For one, the feet are rarely shod. I mean, not wearing shoes is almost an art form here. I know that on the weekends I try my hardest to wear shoes the least amount of time possible. On barefoot hikes the souls of your feet burn on the hot rocks and get sacrificed to the bamboo covered ground. You yearn to find a deep dark puddle to let the them rest in. This ends up in some pretty dirty dogs by Monday morning.


During the week when I am wearing "Shoes", if you can call them that, it's not much better. The flip flops, sandals, slippers, provide me easy in and out access (you always have to take yours shoes off before you enter a home) but not much protection from rocks and dirt and bugs.

Though my feet may complain I have to say I love this shoe-free life. I love seeing the old tootsies jumping from one hot burning rock to another. I love the feel of the cold tile at the Safeway Store. I love feeling the moss under foot as I try to climb up a ledge. And what I love most is the monthly pedicure in town complete with massage and nail art. Behind their friendly Tahitian faces the look of horror as they raise my battered souls into the light is priceless.


I would be embarrassed if I wasn't so proud. What amazing things our feet are.

The Kuau Compound

My postal address may say I live in Paia (Pie-e-ah) but my physical location is actually Kuau (Koo-ow). I live "ocean-side" Kuau which does not necessarily mean there is an ocean outside my bedroom as I previously day dreamed. It means that from my house, if I stand on my toes, I can see the ocean. It also means that there are no roosters. For some reason the chickens do not cross the road here in Kuau and have left us in peace.

Someone told me that Kuau means cemetery which would make sense since there is several within walking distance. This fact does not deflect my love for my little home town. Kuau is full of wonder and beauty. It contains two of my fave beaches within walking distance and has a market that is no more that ten steps from my home and has the best Spam Musubi (Spam, rice, seaweed= deliciousness) and other necessities (beer, wine, York peppermint patties).
But the Kuau mart and the beaches are not the main reason why I love Kuau. I love Kuau because of the compound that I live in. Our compound is comprised of three homes connected by a yard and patio which contains the barbecue, and a table and a constantly shifting cast of characters. People come and go quickly here in the Kuau compound and familial bonds are formed fast.

Included but not limited to the cast are as follows:

Chuck "Chuckles" is our resident care taker and inspires us to new gardening feats. He is almost the father of the compound and has grown used to ordering us around. This does not bother us as it is good natured and encourages us to take care of our budding plants. Chuckles also has unique talents in the kitchen. Thai Food Tuesday's is quite possibly the best day of the week besides Aloha Friday. On Tuesday evenings you can find my roommate Ann and I creeping around the compound looking for any handouts of Chuck's culinary delights. I now have insane cravings for Hawaiian Peppers followed my coconut soup and sticky rice. Out of this world I tell you!

Living with Chuckles is Matt who is the most mysterious character. He mainly keeps to himself but has impressed us with his uncanny Rubix Cube skills. I have not decided if Matt is a highly evolved creature on the brink of Buddha status or a man plotting to take over the world. Time will only tell.

Across the way is Kyle and his girlfriend Emily. Kyle likes to play with the community cat, Nina, who ends up attacking him and leaving him scarred. Kyle always has something interesting going on in his life (a few broken ribs, a new tattoo, a fight with the roommate) and will pop over and fill us in on the drama which provides much needed entertainment as we do not have cable.

Nina is the cat who does not like me and therefore I stare at her with mean looks and try to ignore her. Eventually I will crack and try to pet her but she immediately runs away. I hate that cat. But I love her too. It's a love-hate relationship. Mostly the latter at this point.
Emily is Kyle's girlfriend and is one of those girls that is about as nice as you can get. She likes to drink wine and dance and so basically I love her. She is someone you could talk to for hours and feel like you are only getting started. Kyle and Emily are threatening to leave the compound in search of a home off of the Hana Highway (it gets pretty noisy). I have been thwarting their plans by casting spells to deter them from finding any further housing. Not really, but I am thinking about it.

So that is the main cast of folks. In addition to them we have more sideline characters. There is Zack, the scuba instructor who comes for Tuesday night Thai food. He has very blond hair and makes a lot of jokes that I don't understand. I laugh anyways because other people do and maybe it is just a matter of time before they start making sense.

There are also friends who come and go. From the compound we can walk down to Mama's Beach and share some beers and languish in the moonbeams.

Other people rotate in quickly and make lasting impressions on us. Odie, who moved out recently to live in his Holy Van (a van full of holes), left us with a wide variety of books from "The Power of Now" to "Deduct It! (Lower your small business taxes)." Odie is an odd character that almost needs an additional post in order to explain.

Also there was Avery "Avery-son" who made us food and caught us Tako from the sea. He is joining the Navy now and a part of me feels like I am loosing my little brother. I am quite sad about this.

And then of course there are my roommates. I would say that I adore my roommates but it would be an understatement. Ann wakes up every morning with a smile on her face. I don't know how she does it but it makes me so happy. She and I often sit in the compound and stare at our wonderful world until one of us will say "I love my life!" and then the other will say "I love my life too!"

Our other roommate Lindsay is someone we immediately connected with. She is all the things you would want in a friend/roommate plus she is very pretty and kills bugs, to boot. She goes out into the jungle during the week and does things to keep Hawaii beautiful. Her boyfriend Adam also does this, yet often from the sky. Lindsay and Adam return from their week out in the field with stories of plant infestation and helicopter rides. I am insanely jealous of them.

These are the people that make up my little Kuau family. I hope you can get a flavor for why I love the compound and why I put up with the highway noise.

I love waking up in the morning and going out with my coffee to see how the garden is progressing. Kyle will be tickling the cat and getting maimed, Chuck will pop up with a friendly smile and a reminder to water the plants before I go to work and I will watch the sun get higher in the sky and stand on the tip of my toes to see if the ocean is still there.
And it always is.

Learning to Surf: Part II

There are few things that I will wake up at 4:30 in the morning for. Included in these are:

1.) Alien Species landing on my front lawn
2.) Tsunami
3.) Earthquake
4.) To go pee (maybe)

Newly added to the list is surfing. This surprises me. Why would a sane person wake up before the sun to jump into cold water filled with dangerous sharks, coral and stinging jellyfish and then get thrashed about in the water, arms aching from mad paddling?

My only conclusion is that I am not sane. Or there could be more to it.

Surfing in the morning means jumping into the smooth silk ocean before the winds have come up. Sitting on top of my surfboard the sun rises behind the mountains and slowly begins to land itself on my goose flesh skin as I jump on my first wave. As I glide above the water I can look down into the blue sea and watch the coral go skating by underneath me.

Those are great moments. But they are few and far between. It was John Lennon who said "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." I think life is what happens while you're waiting for the next wave.

The act of watching the horizon and sitting in the moment, relaxed but attentive, focused on an ever changing organic mass of thriving energy, is possibly the most healing and connecting thing I can do for myself.

One day I sat there, catching a few waves and then coming back to sit, and I realized I had thought of nothing other than the ocean and the water for the past hour. My mind had gone nearly blank until the thought that I hadn't been thinking popped up.

For those of you who know me well you are well aware that my mind is like a battlefield for analytical warfare where Freud, Jung, and other philosophers engage in a dynamic game of explaining the world and my place in it. These great minds command my attention all day and all night and use so much of my energy trying to make cognitive sense of the world that I often miss out on actually experiencing it.

Surfing is my tool that helps assuage those voices for a brief time. And the satisfaction, the peace and serenity that comes from those in-between-wave moments is better that any extra hour of sleep.

Paddling on...

Learning to Surf: Part I

Today's blog starts about 26 years ago, in right field. There I am, a little toe headed creature with her blue Angels T-ball uniform on sitting in a field of flowers creating daisy chains, daisy tiaras, daisy rings and all other sort of daisy accoutrements. This is what I thought baseball was about; me sitting around, imagining myself somewhere else.

All of a sudden I am forced back to reality by the sound of my father (the coach of our T-ball team) yelling at me from the diamond to "Hustle, hustle! Hustle Casselle!!!" I drop my daisy chain and stand up to start "hustling" (whatever that is). I start running towards my dad thinking that he wants me to hurry up to bat. While I start running in-field something white floats by my head. Some part of my brain knows I should do something about that white thing but it conflicts with a message of "hustling" that my dad and now my step-mom are both shouting at me. Fear runs through me, and my natural reaction to fear has always been to freeze. And so there I stand, all of my four feet, covered in daisy chains from head to toe, a baseball mitt dangling loosely from my hand, the look of fear and panic on my face as my dad continues to shout "Hussle, Hussle, Hussle Casselle!!!"

Now I whisk you from that baseball diamond of yonder year to the present where that girl has become a grown woman and she is learning to surf. The setting is that of a great expansive ocean. Instead of my blue Angels t-shirt I now don a blue bikini. Instead of daisy chains I am surrounded by a sea of kelp which my hands play with aimlessly. Floating face down in the water, on my trusty longboard, I day dream about what lies underneath me in the murky waters below when all of a sudden I am snapped back to reality my friends yelling "Paddle, Casselle, Paddle, Paddle, Paddle!!!"

Again I am that four year old girl. Panic freezes me. I am supposed to do something. Something urgent, and yet I am not sure what. "Paddle?" I think to myself "Are they serious?" I look behind me at the encroaching tidal wave that is coming up my back side and I decide then and there that my "freeze" response will not be an efficient safety measure at this juncture. I force my arms into motion as my friends shout "Paddle! Paddle! Paddle!" and I can almost picture my dad on the beach shouting along with them "Hustle Casselle, Hustle!!"

I paddle with all the force I can muscle in my scrawny arms and then when I think I have it I use the last of my reserve energy to force my body up above my board and for about .5 seconds I have it. I have caught the wave. I am on top of the world. The white water of the wave is that white ball out there in right field and my glove is just about to wrap around it.

And then something happens, something bad. The "ball" slips from the tip of my "glove" and my board pearls head first into the wave with me on it. I am pulled into the crevice of the wave and yanked under the water and spun around until I am not sure which way is air and which way is the dangerous biting coral of the sea bed. I try to relax and trust the natural order of my body's buoyancy, to rise to the surface, but fail. It is hard to relax when your body is screaming, "Oxygen! Now!" Eventually I push myself up towards what I hope is air. My head breaks through the salty water and my eyes open to sweet sight of the Maui sun and my board tugging longingly from my ankle strap.

I check my body parts to make sure they are all still there and enjoy a minute of gratitude for life, and for air and for sun. And then I hear it… from the sidelines… "Paddle Casselle, Paddle, Paddle!" Here we go again.

Problems on Maui???

A coworker on the mainland told me just before I left for Maui:
"You know, you're still going to have the same problems," he said as he cornered me in the copier room. "You are still going to struggle with what ever you have been struggling with here." Then he paused for effect. "But you know where you get to have those problems and struggles?"
"On Maui," I replied with a smile, "I get to have my problems, on Maui."

That is the truth. You can't escape yourself, your worries, your problems, your personal jihad's, no matter how far away you go. Some people think that perpetual sunny weather, constant supply of pineapple and coconut and a giant ocean for your back yard would be enough to dissolve all worries and concerns but it doesn't work that way.

Some of us come to Maui to escape or run away from ourselves and the day to day difficulties of life. We think it will be vacation forever here. Then after a couple of weeks the newness dies down and you begin to have to do the dishes in the sink, fold the laundry, and pay the bills. It can be a big bummer if you don't remind yourself of one important thing. "You get to do the dishes, fold laundry and pay bills…" (pause for effect) "on Maui!"

That is where I am at this week, week three of living on this rock. My job is becoming more stressful and demanding, my air mattress is becoming more uncomfortable and the toilet is due for a scrub. My mind has begun again the familiar babble of "blah, blah, worry, worry, money, worry, bad smell in the car, worry, did I say the right thing, worry, is my butt getting bigger, worry, blah, blah." I noticed once this week, as I was frantically driving down the hill from work, that I had missed one of my favorite views (a spot where you can see both the north and south shore). I could not believe that I had already started to take it for granted.

I was upset at myself and the world because it just doesn't seem right to have to worry about my butt, my bills or the toilet. I am on Maui. "No worries, hang loose, chill out, be cool bra!" Right?

I am sure there are some folks who can be totally chill forever on Maui but I think his name is Willie Nelson and if I am not mistaken I believe he has a little help from is friend THC.

As for me, I am taking it a day at a time.
My co-worker was right. I am the same here. Same problems, same struggles. The laundry still needs to be done, the toilet needs to be cleaned and the dishes are not going to wash themselves.

But every morning before the "blah-blah" of my brain turns on I get to walk down to the ocean and slip my body into the warm water. I get to watch the sun rise up above the mountains as I catch my first wave of the day. I get to put fresh pineapple and mango on those dirty dishes and I get to watch the wind play chase through the acres of sugar cane fields. And I think; "If I'm gonna have problems, I'm gonna have my problems… on Maui."

Maui Cruiser

Young Professional, Looking for a Maui Cruiser, OBO

According to Casselle's dictionary of Hawaiian Terminology a "Maui Crusier" can be defined as follows:

Maui Cruiser; (Noun): A car under 2,000$ with at least 5 things going wrong with it. Either broken air-conditioning, a car door that won't open or close, giant bumps and bruises, a radio that won't turn off, a key hole with no lock, the smell of a dead animal, and/or a clinkity, clunk sound that warns of impending doom. In addition to the above items a Maui Cruiser must always be accompanied by a really good story from the person who is trying to sell you the car.

Everyone on Maui has a story and what better way to tell your tale than when cruising with a newby from the main land (that would be me) who is test driving your car. I have met such a diverse amount of people and have learned more about my new home than any book could ever teach me, just by trying to buy a freakin car.

Though I think I have finally ended this long search for my new vehicle (a 1500$ Jeep that predates Kelley Blue Book, has a window that won't roll up and a suspiscious smell) I feel sad to say goodbye to the car buying adventure that has provided me with oodles of enjoyment, wonder, and at some times, fear.

My search began with the missionary couple. They tried their best to convert me as I drove their Volvo over the speed bumps, fearing that at any moment the clankity-clankity of the rumbling engine would explode and envelope me in the burning fires of hell. I came close to accepting their offer of making me "born again," at least as some sort of insurance policy if their car in fact did kill me.

After that frightening experience karma rewarded me by bringing a succession of 3 gorgeous men. Their gorgeousness however did not blind me to the fact that their cars presented me with the same clankity, clunk, junk-junk problem. Oh, what to do?

I then traveled to the bay where I met the crew of the Maui Pride and took a spin in an Explorer that had a branch as a car door handle. Yes, I am serious. A branch, as in a piece of wood from a tree, functioning as a car door handle. Though I was impressed by the "earthiness" of this vehicle, and impressed with the owner's fabulous life as a sea person I was not impressed by the car.

This was followed by the Toyota Tercel which came with an hour long story about the owners most recent escapades with the law. It was a quiet night and I enjoyed the entertainment but the story did not sell me on the car which was so banged up it looked like some children with strong arms and large bats had thought it was a piñata.

Alas, I was about to give up my search until I saw the mighty red car of my dreams pull up in front of Borders Books. The body is faded to an old rusty red. The window does not roll up. There is a smell akin to that of an old woman who has lived with too many cats. But she is mine. All mine.

So I believe my car buying adventure is in its final chapter. I would be grieving except for a new adventure has already presented itself:

Young Professional, Looking for a Bed, Preferably with out Bugs in it, OBO

Week One

Sometimes we are lucky.

Sometimes by chance, circumstance, personal desire or divine intervention we land home.

You know it is home because each morning when you open your eyes to the sun blaring through the lanai you feel exhilarated. It doesn't matter that you are sleeping on a half inflated air mattress in the middle of the kitchen that doubles as the living area. It doesn't matter that outside your door lies three dead cockroaches, a disemboweled gecko, a half eaten centipede and one proud looking kitten. It doesn't matter that the flies are already storming around your half eaten banana and it doesn't matter that there is no door to the toilet.

It doesn't matter because... you live on Maui.

I have never lived "on" a place before. I have lived "in" Portland, "in" Sacramento, "in" L.A., but never before have I lived on a place.

Being "on" Maui is hard to explain. I think most of us here opt not talk about it because it is difficult to put to words. I will do my best.

Today I woke up at 5:30am to the usual display of bugs and kitten. Whose cat is this by the way? I then make that fitful decision whether I will go surfing or running on the beach. I opt for a run which then turns into a treasure hunt for shells, multiple conversations with strangers, and a meditation on a stump. I sit and close my eyes and let the ocean breath through me.

I mosey my way back to the homestead. The place I am staying is a very cute one bedroom that occupies less than 400 square feet of this beautiful earth yet has ample outdoor space to grill, drink and socialize (which is where we spend most of the non working day.) I jump into the shower which is inlaid with smoothed rocks to make a design of a palm tree. After the shower it is time to battle the fly infestation in an attempt to make coffee. In such small living quarters it takes a bit of maneuvering along with the cursing of the despis'ed flies.

After coffee we (meaning me and my roommate, co-worker and friend "Ann") hit the road for work. Work is in an office a bit "up-country" as they say. We drive 20 minutes passing sugar cane fields and plantation homes as well as Rainbow park. Rainbow park is my favorite place so far. It looks like the place where Unicorns and Leprechauns (or Menehunes as the Hawaiian legend would call them) would live. Once at work I can look outside my office and see both the south and the north shores of Maui attempting to meet each other in the middle.

By the way, there are chickens every where. We are very aware of the chickens and even more aware of the roosters which are loud and obnoxious and have no sense courtesy towards others who may be sleeping. Rooster awareness has been quite a large part of our relocation adventure (we are searching for a new home which has closets and doors an extra bedroom and a toaster would be nice). It may sound unusual to ask a prospective land lord "What is the rooster population in this area?" but for us it is a way of life.

Work is a whole other adventure that I will not go into. Suffice it to say... I love having a job. After work the night is ours and is not complete without some unexpected visitors walking in and out of our little hobble, the grilling of some new meat product, a few beers and interesting conversation with the many spirits Maui attracts from around the world.

At night, I fall asleep reading Shogun and dreaming about the adventures to follow the next day.
My skin feels soft, my heart feels light.

I feel safe and unbound all at the same time. It feels good to be home!