It’s so difficult to put into words what we experienced in Hana… Should I talk about the scent of pink plumeria blooms in the yard? Or the tree that rained fresh avocados on us each day? I could talk about the moist air filled with flowery, sweet guava as we hiked through a muddy trail to Seven Pools, or maybe the bamboo forest where the bamboo grew so thick and tall, it was like nighttime in there; only tiny beams of light dappling the earth.
I could talk to you about the clouds for days, about their mottled blues and greys and how everywhere you looked there was a new show of turbulent shapes that would twist and stretch across the green pastures. I could talk about so many cattle grazing over Hana Ranch, that sometimes all you could see were cows and ocean and sky for miles… and how we hiked by them one day and held our breath and walked ever so gently, waiting for the males with huge horns to charge us.
But maybe I should just talk to you about blues and greens; the blue of the ocean with hints of black in it, as if the dark sand of the beaches was peeking through. The bright clear turquoise water of Hamoa beach and the dusty sand you felt in your toes as the waves washed over. I could talk to you about the bright lime of the bamboo trees or the dark forest of pines that edged the bluffs over the ocean. I could talk to you about the black of lava rock walls and cliffs.
So much water, so much rain, so much green, so many flowers, so much rock, so many clouds, and SO many avocados. So much beauty it was hard to hold. Sometimes when I looked at the sky, I had to look away for a few minutes and look back just to be able to really see it again. I didn’t want to ever get used to its briliance and magic. I wanted to see over and over again.
When I think about our trip, I am reminded of abundance and fertility, of lushness and green and of life’s inevitability. I am reminded that in spite of ourselves (our resistance) that we will grow and change shape and become ripe and fall… and that we are a part of the grand Everything doing just that.
Leokane told me that there is a joke in Hana that you can put a chopstick in the ground and it will grow. From what I saw, (life bursting out of every crack and every inch) I wouldn’t be surprised.
We are meant to grow, to be green, to be rich. We are meant to be big and robust and colorful and full. We are meant to be alive and we are meant to give life, in whatever form that takes.