reality…is someone’s truth, always.  Just a perception, always one degree away from all other perceptions, interesting, unique and queer as all getup-ance to the rest of us, or our perceptions, which are of course one degree off from each other, in the end their own unusual perspective.  Quite normal it seems to differ so, to be at odds with all else, to stand alone in a crowd, an island as it were adrift in the sea of everything. Like this blog.  Where does it go when I turn my computer off?  Where is it during my long undeniable absences wherein I abandon, nay, shirk my responsibilities to comment seemingly without end on the serendipitous, whimsical, super consciousness that plots and plods us through the muck of our everyday existence?  Like a non-expanding universe?  Where has it been when I turn my computer back on?  How does it know what has transpired? Why does it persist?  Like life?  Where do I go when I turn off?  Where s the data, the energy stored? Am I an island, adrift in the sea of everything?  Alone in all that is?  Normal… someone’s truth. Reality.

Into the future…. that’s where we’re all heading. Inexorably.  I have always wanted to use that word as a stand alone sentence. So  while catapulting unstoppably into the moment just ahead it is still possible to dream thee impossible dream and achieve some small modicum of success whilst tumbling through the effects of gravity, spin, momentum and tedium ever and always onward toward some unknown but seemingly predetermined future.  No wonder I keep missing blogs.  Intentionally willing myself daily to spout pithy witticism(s) but failing to do so consistently as we all fall victim to future plans, unresolved, unexpressed, unpredicted…. unreal.

Be that as it may I have become adept at the art of forgiveness, particularly as regards myself.  I believe this is one of the great secrets that must needs be practiced and passed on generationally… you must be skilled first and foremost with forgiving yourself.  With that all others come effortlessly.  A person who can learn to forgive themselves generally has little trouble forgiving all else.  And a person full of forgiveness is a wealthy human being.  So as skill sets go, developing this one and as time goes by keep slipping, slipping, slipping into forgiveness.

I have taken Bela’s comment to heart.
“…I sure understand when a person can’t keep it up.” Strong words from a concerned friend. And all the wiser for raising a difficult theme. E.D.

Educational Deficiencies. A national tragedy at the moment. And having recently returned from our nations Capital (The earnst-while, built by the sweat of slaves–Warshington, DC as it is ofttimes mispronounced, yet accurately described) wherein I was reminded of a pearl of wisdom passed on by my father regarding the leadership of America. One day sort of out of the blue he says,”…you know son, you don’t actually need a high school diploma to be a US Senator.” Strong words. And when I look a recent events (Tea Party Madness, votes on Climate Change) I think to myself…. apparently no need for education to be a Congressman either.

Well equal opportunity was always the strong suit in America. Equally naive, equally misinformed, equally manipulated, equally prideful but disproportionately consumptive of the raw materials, the natural surround and of the social emotional intelligence that graces most human interactions like cooperation, collaboration, communication, compassion. These are sorely missing in WARshington these days, as we denigrate into party infighting, class in fighting, information depravation and denial.

Salvation lies in our great American Goddess of Justice, Fairness and Hope, Lady Columbia, for whom the District of Columbia was named…. I say once you get honor, stay on her.

Well now, as fate would have it I became a blogger with no ethical backbone… one of the countless unfaithful who string others along in a fit of wimpy, writing when the opportunity presents itself, no longer caring of the fateful who watch with trepidation as another day passes un-bloggged, unattended, un-repentedly ignored by the smug social commentators of modernity who disgrace the very sanctity of sarcasm and desperation in an attempt to offer alternative reason to the masses.   OK.  Glad I got that off my chess.  My failure.  You know “Failure is where all the lessons are.”  “All of my lessons are in failure.”  So there you have it 94 days in and I blather two of my more obvious quotes…. or as I like to say, “…..my grandfather says…..” and so on and so on.  94 days into the blog and I’ve already spent more time ignoring my blogging responsibilities and less time lamenting the loss of free media in this country that I am surprised I haven’t fallen yet on my sword, like any self respecting respecter of seppuku and all things glaringly oriental, or at least ornamental.

Soon the Olohana Foundation will have it’s annual board meeting and all will be well in the little non profit community capacity building venture.  We pray for the best for the rest. At least that’s what it’s all about, or there a bouts.  The best for the rest and service for all our communities.  Give it away. give it away, give it away, it all comes back to you…… when you are ready, the lesson will appear, in the form of failure.  Fail well my friends.

Four weeks away from home… too long. You know things are going on for too long when you fall asleep in the middle of a conversation, wake up, continue in the discourse with no one the wiser concerning your impromptu sleeping habits. And that’s a bout how the tour felt. After two days on the road I am usually ready to return to the Big Island for some normalcy. But already I am re-engaged with the PRiMO Pacific Risk Management Ohana’s IKE Hui or Indigenous Knowledge of the Environment working group, and hoping to integrate efforts with NPS Alakahakai National Historic Trail and the community groups that support the coast on the west side. Followed by a trip to Honolulu to help with UH NDPTC stuff. That’s the National Disaster Preparedness Training Center. More stuff, going on too long. Then back home for a day and time for Kauai and the Important Agricultural Lands discussion, three days Garden Isle, from which I’ve been gone much too long. Then back here for community event and a trip to Samoa, staying down under for a while but not too long as I will probably be planning a trip to DC, before too long. I’m sensing a theme… or more like a melody, I’d hum it but…it’s mostly too long.

There we were, downtown Akron Ohio, Annabells, awesome, and then some.

… and I quote, “Whoooooooo hoooooooooooooo, ARE YOU READY!!, I SAID ARE YOU F@#%ING READDDDDDDEEEEYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!”, he screamed in my face and asked if I knew any brother IZ.  “C’mon Dude, play me some Iz, you know….somewhere over the rainbow.” And right back to, “Whooooooo hooooooooo, ARE YOU READDDDDYYYYYYY!!!”  Thrusting both fist up to heaven and the unmistakable sign flash…… those f@#%ing Longhorns.    Life, it’s a mystery, then you die.

Today I woke up in Cleveland.  The Land of Cleve.  The home of the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame.  And oddly enough Hawaiian Airlines has a direct flight to Cleveland, serving the western region, Federal region 9 and 10, with services to Washington, Oregon, California(multiple cities) and Nevada(Las Vegas) and Arizon(Phoenix) and Ohio?  Why Ohio?  Why not?

So I find myself in Ohio, trying to ferret the answer to this mysterious connection, to the Land of Cleve.

And that’s the fun of it.  I always enjoy the deeper exploration of the connections between humanity.  What makes us the same is always more interesting to me than what makes us different.  And while I support and applaud those differences, that diversity, I am constanly looking for the patterns of likeness, of similarity that lead to commitment and conscious relationship exploration.  What makes us all Human.  Havin some fun….. now.

When you’re having fun, time tends to be irrelevant.  I know some can logic the experience of it rushing by during the good times, dragging by during the bad…. but in fact if you close your eyes to remember those polarized experiences you might find that it did neither.

As I young boy I would cavort with my younger sibling, and arguably my best friend Kimo. We would raucously and tirelessly attack the day, spending down our allotted accounts of “free time”; you know the ones the flies are interested in.  We would stay out of the house as long as possible.  But alas there were times, when despite our pleas we would be obligated to stay indoors.  No television, but hours in doors, the very definition of “time dragging”.  A veritable hell.

One night we saw a movie… it was 1967 and I’m not sure but i believe the movie was released earlier, “THe Blue Max” starring George Preppard.  A world war two epic of one of the worst times of our collective experiences, WWI (only to be outdone by WWII) about german aces, needing to confirm 20 kills for the coveted medal, the Iron Cross, the blue max.  Before you know it, boredom, thing of the past.  With dishcloths as our primary artillery we assaulted any house fly.  But it wasn’t enough to just kill those house flies, we had to get confirmation of the kill, 20 to be exact to win the game.  No house fly was safe.  And our previous hellish incarceration within the confines of the home were dispelled forever.  These day I advocate the killing of nothing, difficult as that seems. The sacred hunt being the lone exception. But as I get older and my behaviors change and find myself harkening back to memories long forgotten but greatly cherished. So you know the old saying…..

Time flies when you’re having fun.  Next time you’re feeling like time is dragging, grab a swatter.

Half a day, that’s how they greet each other in Chamoro country, Guam Haifa Dai is the morning day.  I heard someone say once Haifa dai, the rest of the Day for myself and then he chuckled in his cynical Aussie way.  Dont get me wrong, I like Aussies, anything from down under, anything or anyone that would claim to be from down under, just the concept of down under intrigues me. I digress, my point is, one person using a traditional greeting the other advantaging himself  through cultural context and the use of language and the one off it produces.  Hey kind of like the historical trauma experienced around the world at the hands of colonial imperialist.  Or in our terms explorers.  Those heroes of yesteryear who through their intrepid endeavors we inheritors of this unique guilt, on both sides, struggle to entreat one another with new definitions of equality, access and inclusivity.  Oh wait again I digress, my point is….

… at an individual level, at the basic self experience we find the disfunction or function of viewing the world as a gain loss structure, the zero sum game coming face to face with an older system of sharing and inclusivity.  that these larger cultural contexts collide and that one perspective that stresses individual needs above the needs of the collective has the distinct advantage in the moment.  The larger social historical fact maybe that the communities welfare and perspective are in fact supported by the majority and aligned with the sustainability and capacity of the group.  However down at the the level of the individual, there under any circumstance we find that individual choice will ferment the events as it were.  Way down under all the significant global events are the small seemingly insignificant acts of daily life that make up our history.  I love the down under.  There in the belly is where things go awry, so perhaps the “fix” is there at the individual level?  Maybe we need to not only target the larger systems but the singular experience simultaneously so as the create the possibility for those more altruistic choices in each and every moment. Oh wait a minute I digress, yet again.

I like 16, not as much as 13, but I like it a lot.  I think it’s because I like the number 4 (four).  And 16 (sixteen) is 4X4 and in some way the four squared seems to exponentially increase the power of four….. by four.  Of course the number four in Hawaiian is “ha” (like the breath of life) or “kaona” the unspoken (like secret meaning) so ripe with mystery. How exciting, how predictable, how obvious, and yet there you have it.  In the face of my acceptance of all things as having the same value in the eyes of creation, the same worth for each living thing, that no one thing is greater than or less than any other.  In fact that the sublime realization is that there in fact is no “other”.  And here I go.  Professing a fondness for some series of numeral values that I am pre-prejudiced towards.  Another one of my failings come home to roost, raising it’s ugly head to reveal not an enlightened human being but one full of superstition and unreasonable beliefs that someone one or another number might be better, have greater intrinsic value than any other.  We are creatures of judgment and habit.

“There’s no harm in a little preference”, “what’s wrong with wanting or preferring something over another?”

That’s the slippery slope, soon only “zeros” will be allowed, preferred for their non commitment and poof, no more arithmetic.

No girls with blonde hair, no skinny kids, no fat kids allowed, no geeks, no freaks, no jocks, no stoners, no cheerleaders, no teacher’s pets, no bullies, no sissies, no worries, nobody…. and on and on.  All because of a harmless preference and a cultural disposition.  Well no more.  I am going to challenge myself to see beyond the four, and my love for the four.  I will regard 16 as “the old soldier” and when holding 16, “hit”, take another card and see if you get lucky.  I know I will.  I’ll turn another card.  I will question what I believe to be true, push back on those boundaries, those preferences, those prejudiced and explore the great big world of……… 17.  Looks just as sweet, and probably just about as much trouble, but the new non-pre-disposed me is ready to take a chance, or two, or four and keep myself open to new possibilities, 18, 19, maybe even 20, sweeeeeeeet.