I lost count of how many days I have been in Hawaii. When I arrived I was as tight woven as a Persian rug and a bumbling box of pointless thoughts. I was uncomfortable. That’s a lie. I was the psychological equivalent of fiberglass in your shorts. I didn’t know a way to escape my rambling head. I already ran away to the tropics once and this little “should elf” was convinced I couldn’t do it again. I tried to think of a career, I tried to go back to school, to stay with jobs longer… I even made a shoddy attempt at building a mobile dwelling. All good lessons, but my spirit was miserable. I was choking out the thing that keeps me alive. All because I should be more than just a minimum wage, “gypsy”… I prefer dirtbag over gypsy. Gypsy makes me think of ninnies, which is not really fair, gypsies are great. Okay minimum wage dirtbag* I was letting down the cosmos, just coasting along. Which is somewhat self indulgent to fathom the steps you take as consequential to the universe. Ridiculous at best. So my head was pressure cooking and hoping to pop out a beaming purpose. “Kalyn, follow the light to your path as a ____” insert calling here. The only thing that tugs at my heart is movement.. And the ocean..
So it’s been as long as it has been here and the night blooming jasmine is tickling my olfactory brain waves. Oh yeaaaah, I love the tropics. I seem to find the best version of myself here (Minus the staph infection I am fighting)
A few months of easy breezes was enough to slack the guitar string tightness in my chest. I felt homesick for a home I was yet to meet. I was behind in everything I needed to do, the only way to appease my self deprecating thought patterns was to build a time machine. I can barely build a bee hive.
All the frippery stemmed from a grossly overused misconception. Overwhelmed by my obligation to the cosmos, to do something big and fantastic. If I didn’t have all sorts of shocking stories to share from my rocking chair I would be a coward, right? I would be boring and insignificant, a wasted lifetime? Seeing the words that have been stringing sentences that sting, helps, or something.
It has been over a year since I wrote this. Nearly a year and a half to the day. I was about to close this site. Feeling like it was time to let it go. Then I saw this drafted post and I was reminded so vividly of this chapter off inner turmoil. So I’ll leave it, for my own ability to time travel, and maybe to get myself to put some thoughts down here and there.