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!