On the Hopper
I am flying from Kilehui to Kona in a 12 seater. We rise above the clouds. The sky burns in the afterglow of the sunset on my right. On the left, chasms of thick cumulus look like soft glaciers in the sky. At the horizon the silhouette of the next island plays hide and seek in the mist. I am overcome by profound happiness. How much I love this world.
Our stable tiny plane seems immobile against an unchanging background. I feel suspended in time and place. Two pilots and five passengers. Argonauts as free and adventurous as any before them. Freedom. The sky is turning gold. Soon it will be just stars and darkness. The islands have been a sweet gentle home. Although my plans have been transfigured by loss and diverted by unexpected demands, I feel alive and devoid of regrets. Caressed by love.
The underbelly of the plane brushes against rising clouds and in an instant we are tossed and bumped like an intrusive insect abused by the currents of a fan.
The green and red safety lights on the wings reflected by the vapors provide the only light.
Gratitude.
We suddenly emerge in view of the northern coast of Hawaii twinkling with small light. We are low now and I can feel the pull of the dark ocean below me.
This morning I was gliding on the waves. Hiccups of ancestral joy bubbling around my heart. I have been there before, not one or two times but for ages. A long chain of incarnations elegantly holding the paddle, transfixing the surface with glee, moving the water alongside the canoe with power. Ha-ho. Change side. Sensing in the belly the hull getting lighter and faster. That’s where the canoe speaks to you, right around your umbilical waters, intuiting attuning smiling listening to the big waters. That is where you know how fast you are going, how synchronized each paddler is. Every stroke a big bite of water space and time pushed behind you. We flew ahead of everyone. It was not a race, but we raced. The crew was well matched and the temptation too big. Not for any prize, only for pure uncontaminated pleasure.
I have to tear myself away from the water. Away from my friends. Away from the soft warm air, and the rain that doesn’t really make you cold. Only green and grinning.
February 23rd, 2016
In mid air
