Kauai

I absolutely love the take-off and landing parts of a flight. I crave the feeling of hurtling along at hundreds of miles an hour; I crave the exhilaration of the changes in pressure and gravitational force as the plane gently lifts off the ground. The tremendous energy consumed by engines in order to accomplish this feat is not apparent to my sensibilities as I bid the ground farewell. I feel as though I drift along on the breeze and yet there is a constant imperceptible struggle between the plane and gravity. On this particular flight my heart took a second excited leap as I caught my first glance of the Pacific Ocean in all its quasi-infinite blueness and majesty. I squealed with delight (yes, its true, I really did) and grabbed the arm of my neighbor as the vision of its splendor penetrated my retinas. The plane continued to rise, now high above the cloud cover, leaving the smog of LA behind. Hours later, as I caught sight of the Hawaii mountains (later I would discover that the specific area I was looking at are known as the NaPali cliffs), they literally took my breath away.

Once at the airport, the glee of my journey through the sky began to dissipate. Our first few hours on the island brought numerous logistical difficulties from rental vehicles to lodging. The most frustrating part of our troubles was that they were caused by the inept pair of coordinators from Habitat for Humanity. While I'm sure they meant well, dis-coordinators would have been a more apt label. Nonetheless, we had brought just enough extra cash to cover the expenses we had not been told about (or in the case of our vehicles, specifically told otherwise).

But no matter, for we were in Hawaii; land of rainbows, sunsets, mountains, beaches- basically if its beautiful, they got it. I found myself wishing that I had some training in photography for the pictures I was taking I felt were sure to inadequately capture the grandeur of the place. No words come to me to describe my first swim in the Pacific and the beautiful views of the ocean crashing upon the rocks.

The days on the island of Kauai blended together like warm rainbow sherbet. Our initial anxiety flowed into happiness with our surroundings, which flowed into occasional irritations among the group which flowed into island bliss once more. The days on Kauai- which fled all too quickly- were filled with a precious balance of hard work and relaxation. On our days with Habitat, I mostly sawed (I am now fully competent with your garden variety of power saws) while others hammered my carefully cut boards into forms that would later become walls. Still other members of our group were able to use their talents helping in the thrift shop and office. No matter what we were doing though, the heady sense of adventure was never far from our psyches.

In our precious few free days we drove the nearly circular road (it is interrupted in the north by the Napali cliffs) that traces the circumference of the island, pausing at various towns and beaches to shop, swim, or lay out. To the east of our camp at Kahili Mountain Park we drove to Lihu'e, the main city on Kauai; Kapa'a; Princeville; and Hannalei (as featured in the song about Puff the Magic Dragon). To the west we encountered Koloa; Po'ipu; Hannapepe, where Habitat is based; Waimea; and Polihale, an extremely remote beach reached only by driving down a road through a sugar cane field for half an hour. A rougher road I have, quite honestly never encountered. There were holes in it which looked as though they would swallow our precious Altima in one gulp. But it was well worth it to gaze upon the grandeur of the Na Pali cliffs up close. On the last day, we capped off our adventure by jumping from a waterfall.

I struggle to find words to describe the sigh-inducing beauty of the island of Kauai. Daily as I would look out the window of the car (attempting not to wreck the brand new Nissan Altima with which the kind folks at Budget had entrusted me) Mountains of Kauai always on one side, the ocean on the other, a sense of wonder would fill me. I remember thinking to myself that there couldn't possibly be a place infused so strongly with the hand of Yahweh. Standing on the beach listening to the waves and feeling the cool Pacific spray I could physically feel my spirit fill with awe. Not only was this island physically beautiful but it also had such an energy of peace as to inspire the most anxious and impatient of individuals to take a nap on the beach. It seemed odd that such a place could be born from the extreme violence of a volcanic eruption.

And as I began my return to 'real life' on the mainland, I was again wowed by the machine that held me high above the ground. I remember looking across the cabin and I am amazed at how many people daily put their faith in a machine whose functioning defies common logic. But, after all, isn't faith the belief in things unseen?

Excuses, excuses

I know, I know, dearest audience, I am loooong since overdue on my post about my most recent globe-trotting adventures. I promise, my thoughts are almost complete (there's an oxymoron- when are thoughts ever really complete?) and will be posted tomorrow. Think of it this way: what sort of writer would I be if I didn't far overextend my deadlines and then swear that the product was very nearly complete when really had not even been started? Of course, that is not the case here, I am simply still in the process of revising some entries in my journal. (For some reason, I seem to find it difficult to compose sentences at more than a third grade level when I am simultaneously scribbling on a pad of paper and laying on a tropical beach)
For the time being, I will provide you with links to last weeks magazine articles- think of them as something of a snack:
Australian Drunk Dialers breathe a sigh of reflief
The latest episode of College or Something Like It

Other publishings

When I am not painstakingly crafting blogposts for my gracious audience, I also write for Whim literary magazine.
Here are links to this week's pieces:
A brief bit on my spring break plans
A review of everyone's new favorite movie
Last and most certainly journalistically least

C'est la vie?

It seems that this will be a very sporadic blog, and for that I apologize to the one loyal reader that I have acquired in my brief career as a blogger. (And I suppose I ought to apologize to any disloyal readers as well)
And now for the true matter at hand: I find myself, once again, in the throes of an existential mini-crisis as I grapple with (yes, you guessed it dear reader) the meaning of life. Puzzlement to men and women for centuries, the road I now trod down is, if nothing else, well-worn. In nearly every piece of art, literature, film, and even some of the most ridiculous of television shows, one can find the artifacts of a quest for meaning.
Last night, as I read the entertaining Stranger than Fiction, by Chuck Palahniuk, I suddenly found myself ambushed by one of Palahniuk's philosophical sermons. Anyone who is familiar with Fight Club or Choke can testify to his penchant for sneaking value-ladden commentaries into pages that are otherwise beguilely mundane. Admittedly, I should have seen this coming, as Palahniuk had just finished telling the story of a seance:
"Oh I'd love to believe in an invisible world. It would undermine all the suffering and pressure of the physical world. But it would also negate the value of the money I have in the bank, my decent house and all my hard work. All our problems and our blessings could be readily dismissed because they'd be no more real than plot events in a book or movie. An invisible, eternal world would render this world an illusion."
So there I sat, book of short-stories in hand, pitched unwillingly and unwittingly into a quagmire of meaning-unmade. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that an invisible spirit world does exist. I am unsure, however, if its existence renders this life meaningless. And if I take the logical leap to say that it does, what then, in the words of Creed, is this life for? If we are not to live for money, or fame, or hard work, or nice houses, or travel, or [insert your favorite hobby here] then what? What is this all really about?
Many people look to religion for the answer to this question. Whether it be Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, or Judiasm, it seems that according to religion, the purpose of this life is to achieve heaven, nirvana, salvation, or other form of entrance to eternity. But this takes us back to square one. If the true crux of existence lies in eternity, what purpose does this life serve?
Exhausted by this line of questioning, I temporairily retire from the quagmire. Nonetheless, the importance of the pursuit of answers calls me and I vow never to leave it untended for too long.