Paradise Lost, Paradise Found

There is so much I could say about the process of moving to Hawai’i. Making the decision to uproot was scary and exhilarating, remodeling and selling the house was exhausting. Then there was the packing, the goodbyes, the logistics of it all. It was so fast and frantic that I felt as though I landed here with my head spinning. I had grand ideas about how I would honor leaving my home that I loved so much. In reality, we were tripping over ourselves trying to get out in time and it felt like we were on a gameshow with the clock ticking. There was no ritual. No closure. I made time for intentional goodbyes to people I love but left others without a proper farewell. In Hawai’i, I don’t have my son, granddaughter, parents, and best friend in my everyday life. I also left my career as a hairdresser and the co-workers and clients who had become family to me. I lost a beloved pet the week we left. I lost familiarity with places and access to people and things that brought me comfort. Additionally, the frequency of a place like the Big Island, with its active volcano and rich native tradition, is intense; the ground is literally vibrating. My husband, who is an engineer and generally skeptical of things bordering on woo woo, remarks on it. It’s one of the things that drew us back here, but it’s also a lot to adjust to. 

My first order of business here is to do the work of letting go and processing the losses I just experienced. I cannot be fully present until I do this work. My psyche will not allow me to just continue on as if nothing happened. Moving through it quickly, numbing, or distraction is not going to cut it. Lately, I’ve been reminded of a mantra that I keep on my bulletin board in my office, ‘Harmony over Mastery’. I want to fix this discomfort of transition when the answer is actually to relax into it. I’ve been sick off and on since my arrival, and I suspect this is residual momentum from the last weeks and months that have become stuck in my body. I’m a sensitive being, and while that is beneficial in many ways (especially in death work) it can be a real challenge. These kinds of losses are “small deaths” that we so often experience in life. If there is one thing I have learned in my work as a doula, it is that deaths are not a thing to be fixed or mastered but honored and acknowledged.

One way I acknowledged the losses was by writing a long letter to myself expressing gratitude for all of the specific things I left behind and what a blessing it was to have those things in my life for so long. I’m also being more intentional about the foods I’m eating and the thoughts I’m lingering on. I’ve called in reinforcements to help settle my spirit through prayer and energy medicine. As I’ve started doing these things my physical symptoms have completely disappeared. Coincidence? Maybe. But I’m thankful for the push to investigate more deeply what I need to adjust to being in this new place. 

Now, as I start to ease into my new life my thoughts turn to how I can be in more alignment with my values and stay in connection with the Creator. I sleep with the windows open and wake up when the sun starts to lighten the sky. I’m eating the papaya and pineapple that grow in the yard. I’m finding like minded neighbors who grow food, practice holistic modalities, and embody the aloha spirit. Each day I try to get to the water and watch the powerful ocean hit the volcanic black cliffs of Puna. The pace is slow here and I’m seeing the fruits of creating space for the new. There is time for reflection and writing. I’m so grateful everyday for the time I have here which is already proving to be just what I hoped for - a fresh chapter of beauty and spiritual growth.