Hello Steemers, While confusing and mysterious, this new way to share information could be a trailblazing way into the future. Personally, I’m not sure what to make of it, but I know that others have encouraged me to share, write, and express myself. I hope to share my journey, maybe you’ll come with me and we will find ourselves on the trail of life together.
Don’t feed the… spiders?
Maui… Looking to find myself on the path of life. I had spent years of getting up at 4am, getting ready for work, getting into my car, and sitting on the freeway for hours only to arrive at a concrete stack 14 stories high. Finally, an opportunity arrived, a window of time where you can make a decision to change your life, change direction, and leave the world you know for one where nothing is certain. 4am, the alarm buzzed next to the bed, I hit it and this time, I didn’t get ready for work like I had always done. I could feel doubt and uncertainty mixing in my chest. The easier thing to do was to get ready, toast the bagel, and get on the freeway. “Come to Maui, give it a try… oh and when you get here, don’t feed the spiders”. I laughed until I actually saw the size of the spiders there. It would have to be more than just a try, it would be giving up a job, packing a bag, leaving everything else behind and starting a new life.
Paradise is to the left, the coffee is on the right.
The advice I got from a friend was, drop everything, get to Maui, and worry about the rest later. Of course, there’s a little more to it than that, but that’s kind of what I did. I left life unfinished back in LA, but I suppose that is the way I had to leave it. When I got to Maui, everything ran in slow motion, the hustle and bustle was gone but your mind is still running at full speed. A friend picked me up at the airport and soon we were cruising up highway 36, she pointed out the window and said, “Paradise is to the left, the coffee is on the right”. We kept driving and stopped in a sleepy little town called Paia, which lends itself to a relaxed artist community. She lived just a ways from the main part of town, so we got out and walked around. It was nearing past sunset and people were starting to close up the shops and head home. A wind blew in and the stars above started to blink into view, I was awestruck and couldn’t speak as it seemed life just started to slow down for me.
I hope you brought a hat.
The next day we got up and went out to see someone who my friend knew very well. He’s been living on the island for a long time, gave up his job in New York working for a bank while on a vacation. He got up and announced to me, loudly, “Call me Somo… Let’s talk”. My friend laughed and walked outside. Somo said he think he left his car at the airport in the late 80’s and wondered if it was still there. I wasn’t sure if he was joking as not. He walked around his little farm and pointed things out to me, wildlife, fruit, and the mountains in the distance. He asked why I came to the island and I said I was running away from a life that I didn’t think I could do for another day. He said, “let’s take a walk” and pointed down to the edge of his farm, a small reddish dirt path that skirted along a broken fence. As we came up close to the fence, he grabbed a walking stick that was propped up against it and he pulled his large straw hat down over his ears. For a time we just wandered around an old farm, there was equipment from the 40’s just stuck either half buried in mud or struggling to remain in one piece in an unwinnable battle against nature. We passed a tractor wheel and my guide tapped it with his walking stick, he glanced back and smiled as we kept going. We rounded a small hill and then went down into a small grove of trees, the ground stopped being soil and turned in a mass of solid roots. He stopped and pointed the way with his stick, a smaller path, into a darker section of the woods we were exploring. I bounded down the trail behind him and soon we stopped at a small clearing with a small wood bench. All around us was nature and I could hear what sounded like a stampede in the distance. I asked what that sound was and he laughed and said, “I hope you brought a hat”. Just like that and about a minute later the rain came and poured down over everything. It was the rain hitting the leaves, I forgot what rain had been like, forgot what being outside in nature was like. The rain passed and Somo was standing like a guard near one of the trees. I went over to him and asked if the tree was special and he said, “It’s why I am here”.
Wind Ache
Somo told me he was on a hike after coming here on vacation and found his way to this tree. The hike was magical and by the time he reached the tree, he knew he would never go back to New York. He asked me what I wanted to do in life and I sheepishly fumbled through some answer that I thought sounded good, but lacked soul. The rain stopped and we started to make our way back to the farm, we told each other stories of friends, trips, and life lessons. By the time we got back, my friend was opening a cold beer and Somo thought that was the best way to end a long hike and I couldn’t agree more. The afternoon gave way into evening and other people started to show up. I started to realize that Somo was a big deal of some kind. People were bringing in platters of food and friends were reunited and family gathered outside to talk in circles. My friend I were getting ready to go but Somo wouldn’t hear of it, he shoved a plate into my hands and plopped down a giant crab leg on it and then went to go see about some chicken. People swarmed about, gave me hugs and more food plopped down on my plate. Beer followed and a kind older gentleman leaned in to tell me this was just the start of the evening. Evening wore on and I found a quiet nook by the side of the house, a small garden and wood bench sat apart from everything. The friend that I came with was still inside talking with her very close friends. “Wind ache” Somo called out to me, I turned around to see him smiling ear to ear. I asked what that was and he said it was what he called this little nook on the side. “You’ll miss it” he said turning around, pulling his straw hat down over his ears and headed back inside. My friend and I drove off and back to her place as the singing of John Denver songs came out of the house. Somo waved goodbye as we bounced down the road toward the highway.