Monday, December 13, 2010

When things go missing

Today I realized that my pipe was missing. I have a pipe. I don't smoke... but I have always fantasized about having a pipe in my mouth just to hold there... and pretend I was a gentle-woman. I bought it at an antique shop in Virginia... and then boiled it a few times... and then stuck it in my mouth any ole time I wanted to and said, "cheerio." So, today, well... actually, just about ten minutes ago I realized that I no longer know where my pipe is! I actually haven't seen it for some time. Last I remember, it was in my mouth as I told the kids stories... with an English accent. They giggled, and I was quite serious as I took it from my mouth in a suitable hold to straighten my non-existant goatee. And that's the last time I've seen it.


Not under my bed. (I knew it couldn't be there... but my childhood suggested otherwise.)

not behind the chest of drawers...

not under the stack of papers I just piled there the other day.

Personally... I see it everywhere. Perhaps I should say a prayer?

"Dear God... please help me find my vintage tobacco pipe."

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


ok one and single follower... this is for you. I've moved home. Remember how hard it was to leave? Feeling so meloncholy sitting on my porch as the sun woke up and then went to sleep... feeling like a total rock star on stage for my last concert with the Shivaree... feeling like I loved my friends so much that they should be permanently attached to my skin the way they are to my heart. It's hard leaving a place that you've made your home. It's hard facing the fear that where ever you are headed may not be this great. Isn't this what life is about? Isn't this what we're searching for? Why am I leaving? My heart would ache and stomach would turn wondering if I was making a terrible mistake. How can leaving a place feel so right... and yet so wrong? Home. Going home... and leaving home at the same time.

This has gotten me to thinking more deeply about what home is... and how that feels to have one... or maybe even more then one.

I used to think that home was a place... obviously something we all eventually realize isn't true. Then I discovered that home was Christ... which comforted me since He comes with me everywhere:) I think I'm learning a little bit more fully though about home as a place combined with the home inside that Christ has built. Everywhere there are people that we need... and then people that need us too. This exchange; the giving and receiving of love, is part of what combines the place with the heart i think. Here I have Pono. My 11 year old cousin that comes over daily to help me with the garden and keep me company with enthusiasm and wisdom in everything he does and says. Here I have Kalani. My 21 year old cousin who has the most amazing presence about him. He's so relaxed and so positive it's impossible to be anything else but pleased when he's around. Here I have the kids: Keanu and Zarr, they sleep over every night and come over directly after school. They help in little ways and we make pancakes. They fight over who gets to crack the eggs or pour the flour or hold the bowl and I make them share. Zarr hates listening but I can tell he really wants to. Keanu loves helping but has A.D.D. so I get his help for a few seconds every few minutes. I read and tell them stories, with my pipe in my mouth every night to help them fall asleep. I love it when Keanu sucks his thumb. They all have beautiful brown skin and bright green or hazel eyes. Last night, Keanu ejected his thumb from his mouth to ask for another story cause he wasn't even tired yet. Droopily he inserted his thumb, and before I could say "once upon a time" he was snoring. Kamaka, Kama, my brother Steve- everyone has something to contribute, everyone has something to recieve, and we all have each other.

I went from something so genuine and full of love to another thing, genuine and full of love still. I love the giving and the receiving, the constant exchange of love- this is what every home should feel like.

Friday, June 11, 2010

bad days

So... today was one of those bad days. Already had a bruised knuckle from kick boxing yesterday. My little sister sat down on the stool I use in order to get on my ridiculously high bed (yes I made it that way) so we had to fix it... and in the process I hammered my thumb and sawed my pinky. After a few choice words and throwing all the tools and chair as far away from me as I could (but since my muscles are also sore from boxing, "throwing" only means 2 feet) I told the little sis to pack her things so I could take her home. Which of course translates to... I hate her for breaking my chair... when really all it was was that I hated being so grumpy and needed to get her home before things got worse. Not fun... We argued about nothing on the way, and she cried in silence. How am I supposed to be a good big sister when I have bad days like this? How Do I change my mood when inside, deep down, I feel like screaming?! How does anybody? Humph... it's just one of THOSE bad days.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Kara and the Argonauts

Ever since I was little I always knew that I was special. After countless hours watching Star Wars, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Care Bears, Rainbow Bright, Heman, Superman, X-Men and many others, my mind and imagination soared with all of the different possibilities I had to really shine. I needed answers; and the only way to get them was to first figure out what my powers were. In my mind, this made sense, and I carefully kept track of all the instances that proved my superheroness. There was that one time that I fell out of the tree and was caught by a bush below... which obviously meant that I had some kind of power over nature. There were all the countless times that I sucked the pain out of my moms head by simply rubbing her temples, which could only mean I had some kind of healing power. And there was that one time that my little brother was choking on a sucker and I bent him over and hit his back as hard as I could which forced the sucker out of his throat and into the toilet. Apparently I was also extremely strong with an inherent know how when responding to danger. All I needed to do was to prove my powers to other people, out in the OPEN. (Since most of these instances happened in my own home, I think my family was already used to my abilities and therefore didn't really notice how extraordinary I was.) One day proved to be the perfect time and place. We were at some kind of an activity with lots of people. I think it may have been a church event, and we were gathered at a park. Everyone wanted to play a game and there was a giant log in our way. PERFECT I thought to myself, now is my chance. Of course, all the men gathered together to push the log out of the way... and of course I would let them try before coming to their aid. I watched as they struggled, faces red, neck-veins bulging, but to no avail. I rolled up my little 7 year old sleeves focused on my strength abilities, summoning the source of my power to aid me in this heroic adventure. I put one hand on the log thinking one arm might do the trick. The log didn't move. No problem. I placed my other hand on the log, took a deep breath and pushed. In that moment the log started moving. Confidently I continued pushing, the log rolling little by little, my insides tingling with wonder. I really DID have super strength! Did anyone else notice? Why weren't they cheering for me? Why wasn't anyone calling my name and telling me how strong I was? Why were these grown ups still pushing, couldn't they tell I could do it on my own? Amongst all these questions the log began to take on speed. In a split second the whole thing rolled forward SO FAST my little body rolled along with it placing me face down on the other side. A big hand swooped me out of harms way and I stood, watching as the log was pushed by all the adults (when the women started helping I have no idea) to the other side of the park. Standing there, a bit confused, it occurred to me that I may not have had super strength. I was 7. I got over it. I still laugh about that... and at myself and the thoughts I had when I was growing up. What was I thinking? I mean really... revealing myself without a mask?! Every now and then I jot down a few notes in my heroic log about how I saved someone from drowning, or how I killed a giant spider. But, my Super Hero days are pretty much limited for now. Pretending to be normal can be so difficult for someone so... not normal. Don't worry world, I'll figure out my super power soon.