A few years back, when the walls felt as though they were tumbling down, I traveled across the US twice, honoring dreams and following signs.
It was a crazy time filled with healing, many tears, and a reservoir of hope that never ran dry. Probably because everywhere I went, you know what I found?
It was the map of Oahu on a shelf of a random book store that I wandered into in Seattle near Pioneer.
The Pidgin accents of a black woman and a white man standing behind me on a plane to Newark.
The woman whose family was from Hawaii but who grew up in New Orleans speaking with a thick Cajun accent asking me: “Do you unna’stand?”
A Kauai Pride t-shirt picked up on a honeymoon that some dude leaving Houston on his way to Maryland was wearing.
An old friend, the kindness of strangers, family, everything. Hawaii radiated everywhere I went even though I was not physically in the islands.
As I looked out the ocean upon my first return, pride swallowed, ego deflated, and Heart broken wide open. I laughed and cried as I looked out at the ocean because it was in that moment that I knew the only Truth that matters…
Aloha Ke Akua