It still seemed like a dream even as I was walking down the gang plank for the plane. What was I doing? Is this for real? Am i really leaving Kauai? I was aware that something in a deeper conscious than my conscious self was leading the way. I let it. I've learned enough now to sit back and let that energy get you where it wants you. So often we damper that and subdue its driving force. The plane jolted back, pressed against my seat, I saw the magical little island slowly fade away from view. I'm in the river now bub, just thrown right smack dab in the middle, and the current is ripping right something wicked.
I've never been in such a stronger mix of emotions, ever in this life. Half of my little psyche is yelling at me in a heated panic, "what are you doing leaving Kauai? It's fucking paradise you fool. Most people would shoot their first born to have a fraction of the life you had." Perfect waves with crystal clear water in my front yard, a gorgeous house filled with my favorite people, a job that allowed me to make $200 in 5 hours, hammock spots that would bring the most burliest of men to tears, and the most beautiful best-friend/lover that helped heal my heart and restructure my awareness of love. And the other half of me knew I needed to leave to see what is out there for me in a career sense, and I know that word gets a pretty bad rap, but I'm being pulled to do something with this subtle power coursing through my veins, boiling over potential in the crock pot of my soul. I can't serve tables forever. And not to sound corny, but I have to follow this destiny driven path to see the full extent of this short beautiful existence on this watery planet. So with those two strong opposing emotions I've found my self back in California, in a city for that matter, but a beautiful city at that: San Francisco. For some reason I feel the need to be part of this American Tea Movement, which most people don't even know is happening. And to be honest, for most of the population, it may be just about as important as the disappearance of a rare stamp or a new artichoke quiche recipe. But for me that little tea leaf means everything. It is our key for a slower society and the golden path for human connection, or even self realization for heaven sakes.
So now I'm in the thick process of adjusting to this mainland culture, this fast paced drug fueled madness wild and senseless in every direction. It slightly hurts when people don't say hi as they walk by me. The cars honk and blow their frustrated horns the second the light turns green. The cops are actually cops and walking in the middle of the road I guess is "legally frowned upon". My niceness is trampled on, smothered in this stress-faced competitive society. I need shields and sharp swords, full plated armor to even get through the day. I won't last too long in my sandy bare feet, ukulele on my back and a fresh cracked coconut vibe handing out taro leaves on the streets in exchange for kindness. But it won't hurt to try.
