Return to Hawaii

I recently returned to Honolulu after a 17-year absence.  Much has changed over the years; a Wi-Fi/Starbucks vibe permeates much of the island, and areas once filled with car repair shops have gentrified into condos and brewpubs.  The homeless are more visible, stacked and tented in specific zones scattered throughout the city. 

Much remains the same; there is still an endless variety of ethnic food, from purple poi to soft sugar-dusted mochi, and grocery stores boast a wide array of fresh seafood and tropical fruit unseen in mainland markets.  Laughter still comes easily to the man in the street, there remains a lyrical quality to the cadence of speech, and a tropical saunter permeates the island, especially amongst the slipper and shorts set.

My first few days back on the island are unsettling; I’m not sure how to fit in.  The sun is intense and the colors too vibrant.  My eyes are accustomed to muted Oregon tones of pine green and timber brown; now they are overwhelmed by the fluorescent green foliage and turquoise water.  For many years, returning to Hawaii was a pipe dream for my wife Rosanna and I.  Now that it has finally happened, the reality is hard to accept.  The shift seems too abrupt, like a water-slide ride into a pool. 

I boarded a plane in the gloomy cool of the Pacific Northwest and emerged into the light and heat of Oahu.  Standing on a corner sidewalk, waiting for the light to turn green, a snippet of the Talking Heads comes to mind as I ask myself: how did I get here? 

Letting the days go by

Let the water hold me down

Letting the days go by

Water flowing underground

Into the blue again

Into the silent water

Some transitions we dread, some we yearn for, but the actual event is quick and over in a heartbeat.  It takes longer though to find your footing and equilibrium. Fortunately, this time, the dark nights and trade winds help me remember and adapt.  A friendly head nod to strangers, a smile for acquaintances, and a slow-down talk-story rhythm takes hold.  The HI life envelops me and feels like a welcoming and warm embrace.

I am into the blue again; and into the light and water.  As goes change in the world, so goes change in me as well.  I arrive in 2015 fresh off the plane, just as when I first arrived in 1987.  There the resemblance ends though; what a stranger that 1987 persona seems to me now!  At that time, all my material goods could fit into a backpack.  But what spurs this feeling of dissimilarity is not the material life; rather it is the spiritual life I had at that time.  The values and thoughts I had then are foreign to me now.  While almost surprised to find myself physically here after all these years, I realize that spiritually I have not even remotely returned to the place I inhabited back then, and am astounded at how little of 1987 is left in me.