ku'u home o kahalu'u

The purpose of this blog was to dedicate a space to lighter, less dark thoughts. I use my xanga for those. Yet tonight of all nights my heart is especially heavy. The reasons behind that are too many to mention. Things are just coming together in ways that are challenging me.

The song I mention in the title is one of my favorites. It talks about what life was like back when things were simple. Growing up we enjoy the simpler, more natural things. As we change we deny ourselves the return because we are afraid that we have changed. I think that's really profound.

So I have to ask myself, what has changed about me? On the surface, nothing. I'm still me. I still maintain many of my bad habits, some of my worst qualities. I still feel insufficient and I know nothing will ever take that away. It's as if every plane of my existence is concentric to the single reality which binds it all together: life doesn't get any better by making things less hard.

I very rarely speak in detail about my family life. Things like that are private and better left unsaid. Yet tonight of all nights I did. I spoke honestly, openly, and with my heart. Suddenly I realized the power of my faith in hope. Things will get better - the storm will pass and the darkness will fade. But what about the landscape hidden by the clouds or revealed by the sun? Will that ever change? Is there something below it all which cannot change, yet whose appearance is forever tainting our perceptions? I don't know. I suppose it is like seeing places anew through the eyes of a child. Perhaps that original innocence, that fresh outlook, is what I am after. What does this mean? I need to come home to myself. I must accept that I am who I am, no more or no less. I think I have the "no more" part down, but the "no less" could use work.

Writing about those days with Hunter this morning brought me much joy. It is refreshing to reconnect with those parts of myself that get passed over in the ordinary day to day living. Life is just one continuity; the singular discontinuity of death is precisely the end of life. It is tempting to take this constant writ large and define it as "the way things are". I suppose the trick is to know the difference between syncopation and and irregular beat of the drum of life.

So what is it? Has life turned to syncopation or am I off the beat? I don't know.

When I was in JROTC and Marching Band, we were taught very simple things: always start with your right foot, change foot discreetly if one gets off. Most of all, be aware of the foot movements of those infront of you. If that breaks down, everyone in the column behind you will get off. Of course, the leaders will be the ones who look wrong.

And so, as I reflect on a certain aspect in my life, I guess the real question is as much of a question of being on the right footing in accordance with the cadence. After all, the beat is evident only in the structure of the group. What next? Look to the person in front of you, dummy. Don't guess, don't piss in the dark, don't take your damn intuition for granted. Rank and file is safe for a good reason. Don't screw that up.

As I make my way from where I am now towards where I should ultimately be, I have been paying attention to those two feet in front of me. I'm not exactly "off", but I am lagging behind. Do I know if those people are marching in step? Of course not. I trust without having seen the person in front of them. My job here is not to innovate or free think. I am a part of a cohesive unit with a singular aim held in common.

Perhaps that is how I should be viewing the course of my education right now. I can only follow those who come before me - my advisors, my professors, my supporters. It's either time to get in step or leave the group. That is the ultimate question.

What does all of this mean? Nothing of course. I'm just as confused as ever. You'd be surprised by all of the things pointed out to you by the most unlikely of people. Often it hurts. Get over it and love them anyway. You're in this thing together.