fallen leaves (poem)

My fingers lace tightly around the smooth ceramic
cup of steaming camomilie tea
brewing gently to whisper a subtle aroma of mint and orange infusion
As the crisp morning air beams on my rosy cheeks
and I huddle in a soft wool knit sweater
smiling at the enterance of Fall
in California I’ve missed twice over
Where days like today my spirit is renewed
and my heart delights in the small moments of beauty
When warm sunlight glistens on golden amber and cardinal leaves
and kids in red peacoats padded with bright colored scarves
kick fallen leaves on small town sidewalks
and laugh carelessly in play.
I welcome the climate’s mildly changing seasons
and it’s quiet reminder of time passing

the ebbs and flows
of the sacred rhythym of life.

Sunglasses as Marker of Cultural Difference

In sunny Hawaii, I was surprised to find that alot of people don't wearing sunglasses on a daily basis. I mean, don't get me wrong, people do wear sunglasses. But it's not as prominent, noticeable or necessitated as in other cities.

In L.A. for example, almost everyone I know wears sunglasses...every day and during every outdoor moment. And it's not that the sun shines brighter in LA than Hawaii--because it doesn't. So it seems that sunglasses play a different role in SoCal life than it does in the Aloha State.

There is a particular cultural attitude toward sunglasses in L.A. Perhaps it's Hollywood's influence that makes sunglasses a cultural necessity to the way we live. Afterall, when you see a movie star on the red carpet what's the first thing they usually do? Pull down their shades and smile for the paparazzi. And if they're lunching at a popular Beverly Hills spot, what do they do? Keep their shades on--to look cool, remain unnoticed, and signal a desire for privacy. So, it's not that people in LA are consciously trying to imitate this Hollywood lifestyle, but I do think that a subtle scent of this sunglass-attitude has infused itself into the fabric of So Cal's unquestioned social mores.

In LA, sunglasses serve first as a fashion accessory and second as a functional piece.

In my recent return to LA I smile whenever I and my friends whip out our sunglasses at the brink of leaving any building. In a recent photo I took with friends, the first thing I noticed was that we were all wearing sunglasses. My brother uses 13+ Oakley sunglasses on a regular basis, my friends spend hundreds of dollars for each pair they own, and I usually switch between three different pairs depending on the occasion (evening glam/day time professional/outdoor athletic)--although I usually end up loosing all of them and relying on one inexpensive pair day in and day out.

In Hawaii, I think that folks are just as fine with the naked eye as with a pair of sunglasses. The cultural attitude toward the framed pair, is more relaxed. It's a matter of personal choice and preference...and a role and matter of functionality. And it's kind of nice that way. After all, you get to see the whites of people's eyes when they talk...you learn to appreciate seeing sun rays in their natural beauty, and if you ever forget your pair at home, you never need to feel "naked" without them. It's freeing, really.

Hibiscus

I was cleaning out my closet and I came across a transparent bag with an item carefully wrapped between sheets of white tissue paper. I opened it and smiled.

It was a small gift I bought for myself before one of my departing flights from Honolulu.

Inside the tissue paper was a lithographic print of a red hibiscus flower. Something to remind me of my time on the island. It was a macro photograph focused on a strong stem jutting upright with effortless assertiveness, yet separating itself from the delicate petals that fell downward. {The piece is by photographer John DeMello, not shown here}
When I first arrived in Hawaii, I remember praying on bed one day when a particular vision came to mind. It was an image of a colorfully winged butterfly that landed on a hibiscus. It was so striking and clear that the image stayed with me for some time.When I later talked about the image with some church friends I came to find that the hibiscus is the State Flower of Hawaii. Stained glass butterfly wings had been a symbolic image I had seen in a striking dream a couple years ago, and taken together, the butterfly landing on a hibiscus had come to represent a period of rest and healing for me in Hawaii. The vision was a beautiful gift of things to come.As I unwrapped the layers of tissue paper in my hands, I paused to reflect on the many ways I've grown and changed because of my faith to fly and live across the Pacific. As I now decide where in my home to place this lovely lithographic image, I look forward to being re-reminded time and again of the on-going gifts of Hawaii.

{In the vision, the butterfly never flew away nor left the flower. It landed. And stayed.}{top photo by mckenna7773}

Hawaiian Boulevard of Broken Dreams

I was sitting at Sandy Beach stringing my fingers through the grains of hot sand on a warm Hawaii afternoon when someone looked over and said to me: "You know, you're sitting on a boulevard of broken dreams."

I immediately knew it was a clever reference to the popular Green Day song, but I had to think about the connection.

My heart sank when I got it.

As we walk along the beach, we literally walk on top of millions of broken dreams. Dreams of shattered homes and shattered lives.

Each grain of sand is actually a shard of some little sea creature's shell or a dead piece of coral that was once alive underwater.

It was such a depressing thought.
Profound, but still depressing.

{Who throws those kinds of thoughts in your head when you're trying to relax and enjoy the ocean waves?}

Super Story - Super Bowl Sunday

Kurt Warner, the Cardinals' star quarterback, is playing in today's Super Bowl game. His life is an example of the story most Americans like to hear. It's a story of an underdog who reaches his dreams, of a boy who loved football though was never expected to succeed.

When you hear about his humble beginnings, his life let downs, and his heart to marry an already pregnant woman with a young special needs child, you wouldn't have guessed that today he'd be starring in today's big game. Who would ever would have thought that the Arizona Cardinals would be in today's Bowl? And who would have ever thought that Warner, who was labeled as "washed up," would lead his team to the top?

The young the USC Heisman trophy quarterback Matt Leinart was expected to be the Cardinals' lead quarterback this year. Yet Leinart has been accused of being too young and engaging in "too much partying." Though unfortunate for Leinart, this public let down fortunately allowed Warner the chance to shine and earn public recognition. With all the struggles and perserverence Warner endured over the years, he has likely been mentoring Leinart, reminding the pro newbie of the talent and fortunate opportunities he's has. There's been an attitude shift in Lienart and I believe much of it has to do with "sharing life" with his teammate Kurt Warner.

To hear more about Kurt Warner's story:
Click on the Jan 25th sermon (audio or notes) entitled:
"The Sermon on the Mount for Slumdog Millionaires" by Pastor Dan Chun http://www.fpchawaii.org/?page_id=27

Stripped Canoe

The Hawaii Kai ocean warmly greets me every evening with its burnt orange sunset just tucked away behind the Diamond Head sillohette. On reflective evenings where I catch my breath with the pause of the day, I love to watch paddlers and canoe-teams finish their day's end.

Words - Happy New Year

Happy New Year!

As you enter 2009, may you expect and await great things in the days ahead!

Live simply
Laugh
Enjoy the presence of people
Be intentional about, but not bound to time
Take a break
Dream Big
Hold unto Hope
Smile
Rest
Follow your heart
Receive Expectantly
Live

Be.

Wishing you and yours a blessed 2009!

Back in the Aloha State

One black eye, 3 photography classes, multiple get-togethers, 3 TJ runs, and 5 photo shoots later...i arrived back safely to Hawaii greeted by the 86 degree weather. Nice. I left L.A. freezing with a pea coat in hand, and landed in HNL ready to change into shorts--yup, it was humid when I arrived.

I was also welcomed by the news headlines of the local papers--the flooding on Oahu and the Big Island, and oh-so-many articles on Potholes. Yes, with all the rain, pot holes are popping up on Hawaii roads everywhere. Never mind that our the new President-elect and the Chicago governor scandal makes national headlines everywhere, Potholes is the big story on the islands. I have to laugh.

Someone's luggage got stuck on the conveyor belt of the airport baggage claim, and it needed to be cut and dissembled so the rest of us could, after a half hour wait, have the chance to retrieve our own luggages. Afterall, I had two suitcases packed full with Trader Joes goodies. I can't believe that I brought 30 pounds of TJs stuff back to the islands. I should pawn this stuff off like gold.

I can't wait to see the holiday lights at City Hall tonight. It's nice to be on the islands for the holidays.

Just Who Will You Be - Maria Shiver

I tore out three pages of a magazine I found lying on the office table. The life experience of the interviewed woman spoke to the inner chords of my soul that were defraying, detangling, and coming undone in the season of life of learning to “let go”. I read the particular article three more times in the Spring. And after returning from a Los Angeles trip, CK left a gift for me in my car--it was the book from which the article was based.

I’m a life philosopher, so unlike those who simply live their lives day by day until they wake up one morning and realize that 50 years have gone by…I am one who continually thinks about life, the meaning of life, and how to live it authentically, passionately, and faithfully. Living life with passion comes easy at times and hard at others. My recent struggle has been to let go of a career path that I not only have put an absorbent amount of energy into, but one that I am actually doing well and succeeding in. With the awards and accolades earned over the years, I am expected to walk a certain path. The challenge is to align my life actions with my heart, convictions, and beliefs. It’s a fight, but one worth fighting for. It's a fight for the authentic me, and the authentic life of integrity I seek to live.

The article I mention was an interview conducted between Maria Shriver and Oprah. Maria is the former NBC newscaster and the First Lady of California (married to the state Governor Arnold Swartzenneger). Yes, only in California do we elect Hollywood actors (Arnold and Ronald Regan) to public office. The interview touched me because Maria reflects upon the inward changes in her life at age 50. Growing up as a Kennedy, she lived to fulfill the high expectations placed on her to "change the world". And she did. Maria intentionally chose a career outside the political light and worked her way from the bottom up in the television news industry while leading volunteer community campaigns on the side. One day after 25 years of service she was unexpectedly fired from her job. Devastated, she had never failed at anything and had spent invested hours and years working her way to the top. This devastation however led her on an inward journey to finally free herself...and allow herself to receive the gift of living out her true life from the inside out. In the last pages of her book “Just Who Will You Be” Maria writes:

“I was always scrambling to live up to the myth, always worried others would think I wasn’t fulfilling my role. I now realize that’s no way to live. Many of you may also feel that you’re scrambling to fulfill your roles in everybody’s life but your own. You may feel you’re not entitled to show up as anyone but the perfect student, the perfect son or daughter, the perfect spouse or partner, the perfect employee or parent. (82)

…But what I’ve come to understand is that we are first and foremost human beings in our own right. We’re entitled to our own lives, our own dreams and goals, our own legacies. (83)

…Now that I’m no so obsessed about whether I measure up to other people’s expectations, I’ve found anew gentleness and kindness in myself, for myself and for others. What matters most to me now is what I expect of myself. What matters most to me now is that I know myself—what my heart feels, what my inner voice is telling me.
(84)

…But most important, I will try to live an authentic life that feels true to me—which means living life as myself, not an imitation of anyone else, and not the reflection of myself in anyone else’s eyes.” (88)

I thank DP for the O magazine and CK for the thoughtful book. Both gifts speak volumes into my soul.

When Jesus Draws Near

A morning ponderance…

When we are able to embrace Jesus in His humanity we allow ourselves to reclaim an intimacy with God. This humanity helps us to remember that Jesus’ coming to earth not only restores a broken relationship between humankind and God the Father at the theological level, but that this brings a restored closeness with a God who loves us so much that He continually draws near to us in our everyday moments. Intimacy with God is restored when we see Christ with us ‘as’ we pray, not as a God in the distant heavens who died for us thousands of years ago and who awaits our future coming. Jesus isn’t sitting on a lofty cloud apart from us, rather He walks loving and graciously with us, sits next to us, and puts His arm around us when we pray. Embracing the humanity and deity of Christ together allows us to remain emotionally and spiritually connected to and comforted by God as friend, healer, counselor, and as the One who not only stands with us, but advocates for us, hurts with us, and roots for us in our everyday.

This post is dedicated to Dr. Ray Anderson in congratulations of his retirement from Fuller Theological seminary. I’m grateful to have taken the last course that he taught.

butterflies & dreams

I had a vivid dream while I was in Italy and a part-two extension when I arrived in Hawaii...it had to do with butterfiles and life.

I love this design. It's in my favorite color (I went from loving sage green to orange over the past couple years), there are symbolic butterflies everywhere, the girl can pass for an Asian American, and her wear and sunshine above looks as if she lives in Hawaii. There is a confident boldness in her stance and the graphics have a contemporary feel. When I first came to Hawaii and saw this image I said "wow, this is totally me!" I spent months re-looking for this image (by Vector Designs) and am glad I came across it today.

Asian Americans & Music

I found a children's illustration on the web of an Asian American girl playing the violin. (I had it posted here but the image has been taken down from the artist's website). What came to mind when i saw the image is the stereotype that all Asian American kids know how to play a musical instrument--usually the piano or violin. The more and more people I meet, the more I laugh when I find that in many cases it holds true within my circle of Asian American friends.

I suppose what one learns from music is self-discipline (yes, the hours of daily practice doing piano scales and other methodical exercises), the development of the creative left brain, training in public performance (someone, even if it's just one's family member can't help but to hear one's work), mechanical thinking (understanding measures, time fractions, music composition), and emotional expression (playing from one's heart). Perhaps Asian American parents have been keen on seeing this holistic learning process, or maybe not.

After many years of Bach, Beethovan and Mozart, I finally found my true piano expression through the music sheets of Yanni. Yes, go ahead and laugh, but I think playing Yanni on the piano was when I finally felt like piano playing was for me...not just for the weekly lessons with my teacher. Playing Depeche Mode and church music was fun too, but Yanni was the last thing I played (before getting carpol tunnel) that I truly loved.


I dedicate this post to my piano teacher and Cliff who always had his piano lesson before or after me (no matter what days I changed it to) throughout our elementary school days. Cliff is the only childhood friend who I attended elementary, high school and college with > not to mention all the piano recitals and carpools to algebra classes at MK High School when we were in 7th/8th grade. Years later when I finally went to my first Yanni concert, who did I see sitting infront of me? Why Cliff, of course! Who else would have bought tickets to see (shhh)...Yanni live!

Let Your Life Speak - Vocational Call

My old copy of Let Your Life Speak sits in a box in Los Angeles. Using my Border's bookstore 20% off coupon, I decided to purchase another copy here in Hawaii. Not that I have the extra cash, but it's a timely book worth reading at this juncture. An excerpt by Parker Palmer that I identify with:

"Vocation, the way I was seeking it, becomes an act of will, a grim determination that one's life will go this way or that whether it wants to or not. If the self is sin-ridden and will bow to truth and goodness only under duress, that approach to vocation makes sense. But if the self seeks not pathology but wholeness, as I believe it does, then the willful pursuit of vocation is an act of violence toward ourselves--violence in the name of a vision that, however lofty, is forced on the self from without rather than grown from within. True self, when violated, will always resist us, sometimes at great cost, holding out lives in check until we honor its truth."

"Vocation does not come from willfulness. It comes from listening. I must listen to my life and try to understand what it is truly about--quite apart from what I would like it to be about--or my life will never represent anything real in the world, no matter how earnest my intentions."

Excerpt from: Parker Palmer, "Let Your Life Speak" (1999): 4

Meditation - "Finding Peace"

I found this little 4x4" Hallmark gift book called "Finding Peace." Artful watercolor marks fill each page as short inscriptions guides this meditative thought. Below, I use works from artist Jon Schueler:

"The Lord was not heard in the earthquake or the fire, but in the still small voice." --1 Kings 19:11-12


Go to that place today.
You know,
that one place
where everything else
just doesn't matter anymore--


the traffic, the deadlines,
the streets, the demands,
all the hassles of doing life.
in a world like ours.


Go to that quiet place.
It doesn't have to be for long--
Just long enough
to breathe,
to be.


Give yourself the gift
of time,
of space,
of freedom from distractions.


Go there.
Remember.
Listen.
Look.
Listen some more.


And in that still, small whisper,
Hear the Lord...
and know that you are loved.

The art pieces are by Jon Schueler, whose ability to create mood through the paint brush was a source of inspiration for my own work last fall. His book is titled, "To The North."

Peek-a-Boo

With blue-ish brown eyes, the little hapa girl sits perched in the green supermarket wagon swinging her legs, laughing. I conclude that she thinks we're playing a game of “peek a boo.” And so she laughs some more. The truth of the matter is that I’m actually trying to sleep, or at least get some rest from the night before. When I open my eyes to check if she’s still watching me, she smiles and squeals with a giggle. From her perspective we’re playing a fun game.

I’m trying to rest my eyes and still my shaky body. It’s shaky from the adrenaline rush from the late night before, exhausted from the lack of sleep. I finished writing my chapter draft at 4am and woke up at 7:30am to head out for the morning’s plans. I can feel the age in my body. I’m too old to do this.

As the little girl pretends to hand over her cookie to me, I smile and pause to philosophically wonder why bodies must age. Why must we grow old? And why does time always have to move forward?

The notion of time—of stopping time, of going back in time, of time travel into the future—has been a fascination of writers, poets, scientists and film directors. It’s as if the human soul, in the midst of life’s busyness and in the midst of life’s joys and pain, secretly yearns to stop…to pause long enough to be still. And perhaps it is not so much that we desire to recapture our youth, or that we want to know the future, or that we want to be someplace else but here. Perhaps it’s just the paradox of knowing that even in our most still moments, time still moves forward. And that we cannot stop it. We can only pass through it. And in knowing and recognizing this, we must come face to face that this thing called life is so much bigger than us.

We can’t control time. Nor can we control life. We can only surrender to it. And acknowledge that there is a bigger force, a greater universe, and more powerful God who cares for us more than we can ever imagine.

Peek a boo.

What our eyes see and what our minds know is so limited in comparison to the unknown of that which is not yet seen.

The little girl waves her open palms at me and lets out another squeal. I open my eyes and catch her watching. She laughs uncontrollably. And I smile.

Dust

Hawaii is such a dusty place. It’s unbelievable. I wondered aloud to a friend why I have to dust so much. He said it was Hawaii. And that I live on the ground level.

My room sits perched in front of a marina where ducks pass by my sliding glass door and jump into the ocean water just outside my bedroom window. Ducks!? Swaddling by my room?! (culture shock #239) Where in mainland cities does that ever happen? Here in Hawaii it is a daily occurrence for me.

What drives me nuts is that I find myself sweeping and dusting at least once a day. Sometimes little dust balls come rolling out of no where! I mean, if I sweep the floor before going to bed, where do all these new little dust balls come from when I awake? I swear that I have a secret dust 'rabbit' hiding under my bed who creates little dust bunnies during the night.

My parents used to tell me Hawaii stories about dust. Mom’s weekly chore as a little girl was to dust the furniture every Saturday. I could just picture all those picture frames and white hand-knit doilies that had to be removed so the family furniture could be properly dusted. And as a kid my dad installed an outdoor water spout so brother and I could wash our feet before going in the house. I never understood this ritual. Why did we have to wash our feet when other families didn't. Turns out that my dad used to play bare foot in the red dirt on Maui, tracking into the house its dust and other fine particles which his sisters had to delightfully clean in their spare time.

Hawaii. Dust. And the blowing wind. They all go hand in hand.

Next time I'm getting a room on the second floor.

It wasn’t until I moved to Hawaii that I began to understand little things about why our family does some of the things we do. I'm finding that some of these little nuances are geographically and culturally based—tied to life ways in Hawaii.