Last night, coming home from Hilo, I turned up my street and saw the fire of the lava blazing from over 2 miles away. I couldn’t resist going down there a minute longer. I drove right past my turn, and straight to the blockade that separates partitions the street from the lava below. And sure enough it was raging and unlike anything I had ever seen.
There were several people at there, more than most other nights I’ve gone down. In some sort of reverse psychology, the more people down there the less the police and military police mess with you. So I stayed and stood with them watching it with them. It was fast and bright and spitting — hurling down its path. They say it goes 25 miles an hour, but it honestly looked a lot faster last night. My face grew hot from even at the distance.
By the time I got home the sky, which usually glows red, was neon orange.
This morning there have been nothing but helicopters flying overhead all day. I heard that there was another break at the summit, which caused the show last night.
It is crazy to think that I’m here with it, not just on the island but in the neighborhood. The military police who guard the entrance to this whole area are getting stricter and stricter, asking me for my licenses and rental agreement when I’m driving with Luana, not letting anyone in who doesn’t have to be here.
So as I stood down there last night, it felt so special. I have this piece of paper that no one can get, that gives me access to this show that hardly anyone else gets to see.
This afternoon, I decided to conquer the shower, so I did what I’ve seen my mom do a million times before — I hacked off a piece of my broken tube, grabbed everything else that I need to buy so I’d have a reference, walked into Ace Hardware and found an assistant to guide me around the store and tell me what I needed to do.
Now, my fingers are burnt from trying to manipulate the plastic tube up and into position by softening it with my lighter.
I have a cut on my thumb that I have no clue where it came from.
I had two splinters, and a gnarly spiderweb incident that won’t be forgotten any time soon.
But do you know what else I have?
A working shower.
I include a finished product shot below. It’s not the prettiest picture of all time, but it feels so good.
Hopefully, (hopefully, hopefully, hopefully) the fix lasts.
I’ve been here two weeks now, and last Friday I talked about all I had learned. This week had its lessons too:
I’m learning how to handle things on this farm — to not avoid them but to meet the challenge and apply duct tape where my expertise runs thin.
I’m learning that yoga is not only something that’s good for my mind and soul, but gives me a sense of place, in and out of my body. It helps ground me, center me, align me.
I’m learning that part of what I’m ‘doing here in Hawaii’ is to get clear on the vision for what I want to bring forward into the future. I’m looking deeply at what I can contribute and serve to those around me.
I’m learning that independence is not a car but a mindset. That it’s easy to travel mindlessly and a lot harder to travel with intention.
I’m learning to be at peace with looking up at my ceiling and thinking, without having to fill my time with books or talking or Instagram.
I’m learning to love and let go.