Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Blue Hawaii

I named my blog Stalking Sunsets. I write about the chaos of my life and intersperse moments of clarity when the truer, deeper meaning unfolds itself. I nicknamed myself Zen Mama, thinking I have a remarkable ability to transcend the minutia, to live in the moment, to feel the subdued yet firm grasp of the universe and to find the peace and tranquility of a simple, eloquently silent sunset.

From this one could surmise, a ten day part business/part pleasure, trip to a beautiful resort on the beaches of Waikiki to be just what the universal shaman ordered for me to further my journey. Correct? Yes? Do I hear an "Amen Sista"?

Then perhaps one could explain why I snapped the above photo, a view from my window, the same view I had rejoiced upon when first beholding; only this time, I am photographing the awesome splendor of it all while crying like a starving baby, feeling sick and lonely and wanting nothing more than to be home. Back to that place, my life, known for all it's frantic chaos.

Is this some sorta fucked up paradigm shift? Am I really seeking chaos among the calm?

Am I a metaphysical masochist, a spiritual glutton for punishment, unable to sink my feet into the warm sands of serenity without secretly yearning to hear screaming kids and demanding clients or could it be, I had just had enough of me? I mean, one can only take so much of what goes on inside this head. Had it come to a point where I needed a break from myself?

No doubt, I was missing my boyfriend. How can you be in a place that invites visions of succulent shell fish, dripping with butter and not want to be with the one you love. Throw in a touch of red wine and I wrap myself around a very good girlfriend, looking half in the bag and half way prepared to play for the other team. Interpretation - Me: horny - Friend: slightly apprehensive.

I am happy to report, with the help of a $15.99 in-room purchase, I was able to get through the trip without exploring any latent lesbian tendencies or throwing myself at one of those hard-bodied, fire spinning, loin cloth wearing, Gods of the luau. There is nothing quite like a moving documentary to put things in perspective for me.

In all, I had wonderful moments where I shined, carrying out my duties as chair of the conference, teaching a course I had developed, accepting the accolades of a job well done. My year long efforts were well rewarded and I was proud.

But when it was all over and it was just me and a few friends left to enjoy ourselves, I withdrew from any and all offers of social interaction. I was beginning to hurt inside, like the mother of the bride just moments after she realizes the wedding is over and her precious baby girl is gone. Not only was my ceremony officially concluded, but my time with this organization had also come to an end.

I had immersed myself, in typical fashion, into the role of a leader within my industry at a time when I needed a diversion. I was leaving "Mr. Sunshine with a Chance of Pain", whom you haven't heard about yet (but will very soon, I promise). It had been a six year pilgrimage into the world of corporate volunteerism. Many people wondered why I was that devoted or perhaps that crazy, to spend so much of my personal time on "work stuff". It is true what they say, for everything you give, you get much more than you can imagine in return. I am a skilled, confident public speaker, lecturer, board member, committee planner and industry insider.

It is hard to walk away from something that supported me so steadily when I needed it. What woman going through a painful divorce wouldn't want a presidential suite with men at her feet? Yet, much like that mother of the bride, I know what I'm leaving is better off for having had my influence. My convictions, concepts and dare I say, my spirit will continue to take root in that which I have given so much. And it will thrive, prosper and become more than I could have ever envisioned without me.

Meanwhile, here I am back at the beach, longing for home - processing the pain of letting go of yet another one of those chapters, or sunsets, of my life. I took this photo during a fireworks show. I don't know what that clouded image is, which appears in the upper right corner. My photographer friends can no doubt explain it, but I hope they won't. I choose to believe I know exactly what it is.

It is that which follows me always, full of my favorite colors yet blurred around the edges. It lives on the inside and outside of me. It is my soul - colorful and slightly indistinct, like an eloquently silent sunset. Or, it could just be the glare from that annoying light pole.


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