How I Abandoned Everything in Search of Myself

“Those who know where the treasure lies, joyfully abandon everything else to secure it.” – D.A. Carson

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had gone through the motions that most others my age went through – high school, college, job. That was it, that was the plan and that was the direction I was heading towards. Until it wasn’t.

I studied elementary education and had every intention of being a teacher. The dream of having my own classroom and working in inner-city schools was really attractive to me. Really! So, I was on my way towards that, until I wasn’t.

Instead, I joined the Peace Corps. Different paths post-college led me there and it was something that had always interested me. This wild, exotic fantasy of living completely alone whilst “saving the world” definitely had its allure to a young 20-something. So I did it, and it rocked my world. Did I save the world? Absolutely not, but that experience, that village, it definitely saved me.

It was all “planned” out, hours spent researching the best programs in the US to get my Masters of Education, grandiose ideas of living in a new state and beginning to settle into a normal life. After the Peace Corps, I would assume my role as loyal citizen to the US. I would teach, I would take out a mortgage and I would be happy. Until I didn’t.

About 18 months into my Peace Corps service, after riding this emotional roller coaster of emotions, I finally came to terms with the fact that I was living abroad and that I kind of liked it. I also came to the realization that all these fancy-schmancy schools offering the best degrees were not cheap. What to do?

Commence the research, this time, the google search term, “ways to make money fast in Asia.” And there it was, teach English! Of course, EVERYONE was doing that and it seemed that the money was really there. I felt that I had an upper-hand because my degree was in education, and I wasn’t straying at all from what I set out to do 5 years ago. Instead of teaching in the US, I would just be teaching abroad now. Teach for a year, save up a stack of cash, go home and study. Done. Until it wasn’t.

I ended up teaching in Taiwan and falling in love with the country. Taiwan is a fascinating little country, rarely visited by tourists. People are genuinely nice there, public transportation is incredible, it’s a prime spot for vegetarians and the health-care is fantastic. It was the perfect place to live. Until it wasn’t.

The problem with Taiwan was the work-culture. They have a 6-day workweek over there (which is actually pretty standard for Asia) but the days are long, and so are the mornings and nights. I found myself in a 60+ hour workweek, between work and commuting, I was spending a lot of time away from home, thus sacrificing a lot of personal time for growth and happiness. As the money stacked up, I became more and more tired, finding ways to squeeze in naps during the day whenever possible. Surely this wasn’t sustainable, and it wasn’t.

I left Taiwan earlier than expected. I had my stack of cash saved, but instead of putting that stack towards my student loan I traveled the world (uh, Asia…I traveled Asia). Over two years of constant work, the last thing I wanted to do was lose it instantly. Instead, I followed my heart and haven’t looked back since. And I didn’t.

I have absolutely no regrets, (even when the student loan folks are calling incessantly) for taking the time to travel instead of forking over the cash to be debt free. There’s so much freedom in traveling and living the life that I’m living, that I have no worries about what will happen.

Instead, I’m living in the present taking it one day at a time. What traveling has taught me, and is still teaching me, is to trust and let go. I know that there have been times that I have been on the verge of bankruptcy, but the universe has always provided. Yes, I’m still living off of that stack that I piled up over a year ago, and trust me it’s not much anymore, but I’m trusting in myself that I will always be taken care of.

There’s always work to do and money to be made. Will I be able to pile it up money as easily as I did in Taiwan, absolutely not, but simplicity is also something I’ve learned along the way. I don’t NEED all this money. Yes, it’s reassuring to have, but when food and accommodation are provided for, what else do you need?

I know this must sound crazy. I have no savings whatsoever and I’m heading into my 30s this year. Yes, I’ve thought about that and I trust that I’ll eventually “get my shit together” and have a constant flow of money. I won’t be young forever, but right now I am.

It baffles me to hear so many people “saving” so that they can travel. Why not just travel now? Why not do what you want to now when you know you can. The present is what we have. We’re constantly saving for our “future” but there’s no guarantee that the future will be there. Is that a pessimistic way of looking at things? I don’t think so, I think it’s hopeful and inspiring.

Now, that’s not to say it’s been rainbows and unicorns the whole way. It’s taken quite the journey to get to where I am. Looking around at my friends who have stable jobs, marriages and children and then comparing it to what I have, a depleting bank account and the same clothes I’ve been wearing since college. But that’s just thing, I can’t compare. Everyone is on their own journey. What works for me may not work for others. Maybe others do not want to live this life of uncertainty, and instead, feel completely comfortable with where they are, and that’s totally fine.

But for me, this is working. Yes, it’s scary and I’ve had my fair share of breakdowns, and still do. I often stop and wonder, “what the hell are you doing?!” But then I bring myself back to my breath and the present moment. Being reassured by the notion that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. The places that this beautiful, strange world has taken me to is something that I never planned for. I ride the waves in life and find myself washed ashore in these incredible places. Each one teaching me something new. And I keep going.

I don’t know where I’m going next and I don’t know what it is I’m looking for. But does it matter? Whatever it is I’m subconsciously looking for will eventually find me, and when it does I’ll know. For now, I’m going to continue to wear my old clothes and have those minor freak outs over my dwindling account. But at the same time, I’m going to embrace life and live in the moment because that’s the one thing I know will always be there. How do you live fully and presently?

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by Tara DeAugustine

My Transformation from Corporate Hostage to Full-Time Traveler

It’s two years since I made the decision to change my life. Two years since I took a leap from the supposed security of an executive career and comfortable home. Two years since I started prioritizing happiness and began changing my life for the better.

My story is a pretty typical tale of pursuing the American Dream. After my university education, I entered the workplace and stepped onto the first rung of the corporate ladder. I fell in love, got married and bought a home. My husband or I earned various promotions or received job offers to move to other parts of the country, or in one case across to the other side of the world. We bought bigger homes and newer cars and acquired all the other trappings of success.

I was particularly ambitious. I found my work style especially well-suited to my chosen career in strategic marketing and I rose up the ranks. But as I climbed higher up the ladder and as the corporate landscape changed after the financial crisis, I became increasingly disillusioned. I found companies became focused on short-term thinking with an insatiable appetite for instant gratification and sales promotions, rather than good strategy and strong execution. Their expectation was that my every waking (and sometimes sleeping) hour should revolve around them. But I had a California-sized mortgage and matching lifestyle to pay for – so it seemed I had no choice. I felt trapped in the corporate world.

My respite from this was my love of travel. For vacation, we would rent apartments in fun places and pretend to live like locals if only for a week. We fantasized about leaving all the corporate nonsense behind us and having the time to visit all the national parks we had read about and to travel the world and experience different cultures. Then a lightbulb came on and we realized it wasn’t our jobs that were stopping us living the life we wanted, it was our financial obligations. Without the costs of a mortgage, property tax, condo fees and running two cars, we could afford to earn considerably less, and stretch our savings to travel long term.

It was like a reset in our thinking. We thought our desire to travel long term was hampered by our need to have a full-time salary to pay for our house but realized that if we traveled then we didn’t really need a house. Our desired lifestyle actually fit perfectly with the idea of selling our home and most of our possessions. The deal was sealed. We put our house on the market, we got rid of most everything we owned, I quit my job and we bought an Airstream Trailer and hit the road.

We now split our time between traveling in the US and renting apartments in other places in the world. I work part time to supplement our savings, but our lifestyle is so much less expensive than it used to be, we hardly notice the reduced income.

So how do I feel about my new life?

I am a much more mindful consumer: Traveling light and living small have taught me to appreciate everything more. When living off the grid I am acutely aware of the weather, wondering if the sun will shine enough on our solar panels to charge our batteries or if the incoming storm means I have to hunker down and secure our home. I only buy things that have more than one purpose, don’t use too much water or electricity or generate too much waste. When we travel overseas we pack light and make sure our clothes and shoes are practical and meet a variety of climates.

I have better relationships: The pressures of my work could make me irritable and short-tempered with people who didn’t deserve to be treated badly. On the other hand, I also had to work with people who I didn’t like, who were jerks or who were just a negative force. I am now lucky enough to be able to work with who I want and quit working with people whose values I don’t share.

The quality of my work is better: It’s a strange phenomenon but now that I work as a freelance consultant I am less concerned about career progression and I am less vested in a single product or company. I have an outsiders view which allows me to be less emotional, more candid and I provide impartial direction to my clients that I may have been intimidated to bring to the table as an employee. Also because my schedule is flexible and my plate is not as full I am more responsive than ever

I feel in control: When you talk about selling everything and quitting your job, many people question how you could leave that security. But with a mortgage, a stagnant economy, and the fact that I’m getting older, i.e. less employable, I didn’t feel I was leaving much behind. Now I can turn my life on a dime. I can adjust my expenses easily by locating myself in areas with lower costs of living, I can take more work if I need to. I feel fully in control of my life and I’m not beholden to an employer for my financial stability.

I am excited about the future: My nomadic lifestyle always gives me something to look forward to. It’s hard to be bored when you move a lot. You are either experiencing new things, or you are planning what you are doing next. Sometimes you are just relaxing and enjoying where you are. It’s almost impossible to not be filled with optimism if you have endless possibilities in front of you.

I am making great memories: Many people talk about how quickly time passes, I used to be that person. Time does fly when you do the same things day in day out. But now when people say “can you believe it’s March already”, I say I can’t believe it’s only March. In the last 6 months I have traveled to 3 continents, I have hiked in national parks, kayaked in mountain lakes, and tried to communicate in a language I don’t understand. I’ve done so many things I can’t believe that I fitted it all in. I am a great believer in the ethos – if you want to lead a memorable life you have to do things worth remembering.

I am so much happier: Full time travel is not all plain-sailing and it certainly isn’t a permanent vacation. It can be uncomfortable, unsettling and frankly sometimes just a pain in the ass. Finding somewhere to do laundry, dealing with cultural confusion and wondering if I’ll ever have a decent haircut again are just some of my first world problems. But I would never trade my old life for the happiness I feel and the freedom I have to schedule my own day to decide where and how I want to spend my time.

So do I have any regrets from the last 2 years? Do I miss the executive title, salary or expense account? Do I regret selling my home and most of my possessions? Absolutely not, it was the best decision I have ever made and it’s hard to imagine living any other way now. My only regret is not doing it sooner.

Not all life changes have to be quite so drastic. What changes have you made that have made you happier? What do you think would bring more happiness to you? Why do you think we prioritize things over experiences in our society?

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by Kate Gilbert 

From NFL Football Star to Yoga Fanatic

“Yoga is about clearing away whatever it is in us that prevents us from living in the most full and whole way.” – Cybele Tomlinson

When I was eight, my father signed me up for a football competition called Punt, Pass, and Kick. Over 50 kids entered, mostly 9 and 10 year old’s who in my eyes looked old enough to sport mustaches. But thanks to a kick that outdistanced the others by an easy margin, I came in third place. After that, I was hooked on kicking footballs. I spent countless hours at the field near my house, kicking some nights until the sun went down and other days when two feet of snow covered the field.

Soon I was playing Division I football at the University of Pittsburgh. During the off season, I’d spend 4-5 hours a day kicking 100 balls at a time and the rest of my day lifting, jogging, and sprinting. I took my “kicking notebook” to the field, where I’d write down how many kicks I’d done and from which distance, as if solving some sort of mysterious math problem. No matter how tired my leg got or how much pain I felt, I didn’t stop until I hit my goal number.

When you kick a football, you repeat the same motion every time. It creates amazing torque in your back and hips. During my senior year, I started to feel pain in my low back and hip flexors. I went to see a chiropractor, and the trainers gave me Flexerill to manage the muscle spasms. But instead of resting, I added wind sprints, hills, and steps to my regime. I started to have literal pain in my ass and shooting pains down my leg. Sometimes I had to crawl on my hands and knees to make it to the bathroom. Yet I slugged through the pain for the entire year. At the end of it, I led the nation in field goal percentage at 83%, at one point making twelve in a row.

I managed to gain the attention of several NFL scouts.  I signed a contract with the Detroit Lions but I was cut before the season began, when my tired leg failed me. Then I signed with the Indianapolis Colts and again was cut when my strained hip flexors couldn’t survive camp. And then came the New York Jets. After a day of kicking in which I struggled to land the ball in the end zone, I decided it was time to talk to someone. I knew if I showed the team doctor my injury, the Jets would cut me. But I was low on options.

I explained my history of back, leg and hip pain, and the doctor went through a series of strength tests. When he asked me to lift his hand with my right leg, I felt like I had nothing to give.

Then he examined my hip flexors. The hip flexor is at the very top of the thigh, where it connects to the hip. He dug into the left, and everything seemed fine after just a few seconds of poking around. He started in on my right side. A few seconds turned into a minute.

“I’m having a hard time finding your right hip flexor muscle,” he said.

My heart sank.

“I’m afraid that your hip flexor has completely degenerated from overuse.”

Game over. I’d always heard the players’ saying that NFL stands for “Not For Long.” In my case, they were right.

I knew it was over, but I felt lost. I flew back to Pittsburgh kicking myself for destroying my body. I was angry, upset that I’d disappointed myself, the Jets, my parents, my wife Karen, and my daughter, Sadie. I was depressed, too, by how my body felt. For years I was a top athlete. Now my body was broken, and nothing made it better: no pill, no amount of rest. Even the chiropractor offered only temporary relief. I needed something else. But what?

Karen had been suggesting yoga for years. Finally her enthusiasm caught on, and I decided that instead of doing my normal weight routine I would try Karen’s classes once a week.

My need to push myself to the limit made yoga really tough at first. I’d get frustrated when I struggled with a pose. My body ached. I was stiff as a board. I didn’t realize until then how injured I was and how limited my mobility had become. In frustration I cursed my body. I hated yoga because I thought it was too hard. But it wasn’t that the practice was hard; I was just trying too hard. It was me.

After a while, something clicked. First I started breathing. Karen had reminded us to breathe, but I hadn’t been listening. Once I was breathing, I also tuned in to other signals. I’d only go into a pose to the point where my body told me to stop. After class, instead of feeling beat up, I felt strong, light, and rejuvenated.

I got the yoga bug. Once a week grew to twice, then three times a week. My muscle spasms and back pain, which had been happening four or five times a day, dwindled to just once a day, then once a week. I started feeling youthful again. I eventually dropped my gym membership and did only yoga. The back spasms faded to just once in a blue moon. I had healed my back through yoga. The practice satisfied my need for a strong workout, but I wasn’t destroying my body in the process.

I figured out that I didn’t have to beat the crap out of myself to accomplish something. I’d always been in a rush to attain my goals by any means necessary, but that approach wasn’t effective in the long run. Not only would I still have made it as far in the NFL by training less, I actually would have gone further. When I learned that I could work hard without harming myself, I began to live with intention instead of ambition. Yoga isn’t just my physical exercise; it’s a spiritual practice that has changed the way I live, increased the compassion with which I relate to others and myself, and has given me a fulfilling, inspiring career. So long, pain in the ass. Hello, asana.

How could yoga make a difference to your life?

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by Sean Conley 

Breaking Down a Large Goal into Manageable Chunks

“Everybody has their own Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb.”

– Seth Godin

When I graduated high school, I set a goal for myself: to write a novel.  However, between moving to a new town, trying to find my place on a big campus, and my studies, it seemed an impossible task.  I would start a novel only to abandon it within a few weeks, and when I picked it back up again, I couldn’t remember what I wanted to write about.

It took me several years to figure out a system that helped me finish my goal.  I decided one day that I was going to write 3 pages every day, no matter what.  Breaking the daunting goal of writing a novel into this amount made it easier to tackle, and I finished a rough draft within a year.  I easily wrote the rough draft of another novel this same way.  I felt empowered by how I’d broken down this large goal into daily manageable chunks.

Since then, I have been meaning to revise the second novel into something I could send out to publishers.  But between starting a career, a divorce, and then starting a family with a new person, revising the novel fell by the wayside.  It would be too much work, I reasoned.  I don’t have the time.  And, most importantly, I didn’t have a system in place to make this mountain of work seem reasonable on a daily level.

But in the back of my mind, I knew this was one of those bucket list items I would regret if I didn’t do it.  I’m now a few months into revising the novel, and I feel like I have a system that allows me to make progress every day.  Here’s how I did it:

Step 1: Just Make Time

If you don’t have the time, it’s never going to happen.  So the first thing I did was make sure I had dedicated time during my week to write.  Since I just finished a major consulting project, I decided not to look for new projects so I could use this time to work on the novel instead.

Step 2: Explore Options for Finishing the Task

I had no idea how to approach revising my novel.  So instead of jumping straight into my rough draft, I read a book about the art of good storytelling.  This got me thinking about my story from a new perspective: what things in my story worked and what needed revisions.  From there, I made a list of things that I wanted to tackle to strengthen my story.  Having this list of actionable items, instead of just a vague idea that I wanted to make it better, made it much easier to break down the mountain of work ahead when I started re-reading my draft.

Step 3: Make Daily/Weekly Mini-Goals

If you don’t feel like you’re making progress in the short-term, you may give up your long-term goal.  I decided early on to outline 2 chapters of my novel every day.  This gave me a sense of purpose and moved me closer to my end goal.  Once finished, I collected my outline notes to define more tasks, such as rewriting scenes or modifying characters.  This gives me many more mini-goals to complete without feeling overwhelmed by the remaining workload.

Step 4: Give Yourself Free Time to Explore

If you are embarking on a creative endeavor, you will find yourself needing time that does not necessarily lead to concrete results.  For example, I set aside 15-20 minutes each writing session to free thinking about my novel without looking at my notes or reading the text.  This gives me a chance to explore ideas to strengthen my base novel.  I write ideas down quickly and get back to “meditative mode” for more ideas.  Sometimes these idea-generating sessions lead nowhere, but more often than not, I have an “ah-ha” moment that leads to more tasks.  Give yourself permission to have free time to explore your goal, even if it’s not always productive.

Step 5: Maintain Momentum or Return to Step 1

You will feel it once you’re in the groove and making progress towards your goal.  Do what you can to protect your time and keep moving forward.  When (not if) you get stuck, take a step back and assess how things are.  Are your mini-goals still working?  Is your free time completely unproductive?  There comes a time in the process where you may have to try a different approach to get back on track with your original goal.

It may take me a while, but I’m going to revise this novel.  Share your stories of tackling a monumental life goal below.

by Deborah Fike | 12 comments

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How My Father Brought Me Back to Life

“The future turns out to be something that you make instead of find.” – Lewis Lapham

I lost my father unexpectedly. My father suffered from a brain aneurysm and passed away immediately. My father was my rock, my world. I was crippled.  He was the only person in my life who loved me unconditionally.

I was paralyzed. Paralyzed with fear, and uncertainty of how I would go on in life without having him as my cheerleader.  How would I? I would never hear the excitement in his voice when I called him, or the smile on his face when he saw me? Life as I knew it was over! I was now fatherless.

After months of hiding and running away from the pain felt from my loss, I began to wonder what was it that my father saw in me? He spent my entire life bragging to his friends about how amazing his daughter was. But truthfully, I did not feel amazing. I couldn’t even pinpoint any part of me that he felt was worth talking about to his friends. I felt lazy, unmotivated and unworthy. I was a 30-year-old college dropout. I was living a life where I had forgotten about my dreams and never challenged myself. I worked a job where there was no opportunity for growth. I wasn’t healthy, emotionally or physically. I was smoking two packs of cigarettes a day and spending way too many nights out, socializing until the wee hours of the morning. I had no dreams. Well, I did at one point, but I had forgotten about those decades ago. I was a lost soul, living a life without purpose.

I spent more than a year depressed until one morning when I woke up and had an epiphany. I realized that even if I wasn’t the person my father thought I was, it didn’t mean that I couldn’t still become that person. I was going to turn my life around and be the person that I had always envisioned, the one my father always saw. Where was I going to start?

I started by taking a few classes at the local community college. Eventually, I found myself with enough credits to transfer to a four-year state school. I put down my cigarettes and picked up my old, beat-up running shoes. The open road offered me an opportunity to reconnect with my own personal thoughts, but to also talk with my father.  Running brought me peace. I began to run regular races and with each and every race I ran I found that I was changing. My self-doubt had taken a new shape and was being formed into self-confidence.  I was on a new path, a healthy path that would ultimately bring me peace.

When I started to challenge myself, I actually began achieving things in life that were larger than any personal vision I previously had. I graduated with honors (Phi Alpha) and because of this, I was accepted into a Master’s program at the University of Southern California. I went from being a college dropout to being accepted into one of the most prestigious schools in the United States. I was starting to see less and less of the old me, and more and more of the new me.  The paranoia and self-doubt that had crippled me disappeared, and it was replaced with an incessant desire to push the envelope and try harder at life!

I decided to pack up all of my belongings and leave my home state of Connecticut for California. I left the past I was holding onto for so long, for the new future that I was assured was waiting for me. What I found was amazing. What I found was a new chance at life!

It has almost been ten years since I lost my father. What I realize now, and didn’t realize then, is that my father gave me life, not once but twice. He breathed it into me the first time he held me in his arms on the day I was born, and he did it again with his last breath. You see the loss of my father prompted me to change my life, and I am not sure that I would have been strong enough to change before.

There are pieces of my father that I will never be able to have again. I would give anything to hold my father’s hand. I would give anything to hear his voice, his laugh or even just be able to look at him. These pieces of him are lost forever, but what I have been left with is something much deeper. I have been left with a second chance at life. I know that it was his last breath that brought life back to mine. It was because of that last breath that I am where I am today, filled with love, acceptance and desire to succeed beyond any previous personal limitations. For the first time in my life, I am whole.

Do you ever wonder about how your life could be different if you had responded to an event or circumstance in a different way?

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Life Lessons I Learned On My Trip to Hawaii

“Life isn’t just to be endured, it’s to be enjoyed.” ― Gordon B.Hinckley

It wasn’t apparent the moment the Hawaiian Airlines jet touched down on the tarmac at Honolulu International Airport, but it didn’t take many days to realize that Hawaii has a split personality. The first is tourist-driven – umbrella drinks, brightly patterned shirts, surfing lessons, a beachside luau, and maybe a touch of sun-poisoning thrown in for good measure. This face of Hawaii is pragmatic, realizing that her best natural resource is the tropical climate and natural beauty that summons tourists by the millions annually on a journey to up-end their wallets and shake out a generous serving of cash for the local economy.

But for those willing to seek, the state has another face, this one older, spiritual, and lurking in the shadows just outside the easy flash of strolling Kalakaua Avenue. That’s the one I came to love. It’s also the one that lodged somewhere in my brain, followed me home to Illinois, and changed me forever. Here’s how.

Digging Into Aloha

Back in the 1960’s, surfers in town to catch big waves off Diamond Head noticed the locals using a strange hand wave now called the shaka sign. It was a funky little acknowledgment of the aloha culture that permeated the Hawaiian islands. It became part of the “hang loose, dude” way of life that attached itself to those longboard riders of yesteryear. But living the aloha way is more than a shriek of joy after successfully navigating the Banzai Pipeline with limbs intact.

In short, there is a deeper meaning to aloha and it came to mean something to me.

For centuries, the spirit of aloha has guided the interactions of Hawaii inhabitants with the natural and human world around them. It’s a code of ethics. It’s a Prime Directive. It’s a recognition of the concept of God (or whatever name you choose to assign) living in all of us. Aloha is about doing right because it’s the right thing to do, an idea sometimes difficult to keep in mind when taking another white-knuckle ride on the morning commute to work.

The code of ethics behind the word aloha could be translated as: “Come forward, be in unity and harmony with your real self, God, and mankind. Be honest, patient, kind to all life forms, and humble.” I intend to do a lot better on this front going forward. This world could use more aloha and less dog-eat-dog.

Life’s Speed Limit

The US mainland seems to have one speed – wide freakin’ open. What’s it good for? Stress, for one thing. Add to that road-rage, ulcers, heart palpitations, insomnia, exhaustion, poor relationships, out-of-shape bodies, and the list goes on. In short, a low quality, fast-paced life has become the norm in our world.

What I quickly noticed about the Hawaiian pace of life, once I wandered outside the big city of Honolulu – which seems to be getting a little too mainland frantic for my tastes – was a slow, relaxed way of life that likely requires fewer trips to the doctor for a Xanax refill.

What is it that drives us to seek out islands around the world in the first place? For some, it’s a way to avoid extradition. Others want to drink themselves silly and behave like they’ve re-entered adolescence. I like to think these are the minority.

For me, it’s about a comfy hammock at sunset and time to just breathe. Why did life evolve at a more leisurely pace on Hawaii? Was it the heat of eternal summer? The hypnotic roll of ocean waves over sand? The soothing rattle and scratch of palm fronds riffled by gentle breezes? Turn the iPhone off and the real conversation up. I’ve learned to enjoy a glass of wine with the fading remnants of the sunset rather than the television’s unholy glow. Live a life of measured existence instead of mirroring the path of a madly careening pinball. These are new old ideas I brought back from the islands.

Hula for Life

I blame hula kahiko, the ancient style of the traditional Hawaiian dance, for forcing me to face the reality that my fast food-propelled way of life had transmogrified my formerly fit figure into something more resembling a gelatinous sow.

It’s true. Tourists get one version of hula (hula auana), a flowing, relaxed presentation typically accompanied by ukulele, guitars, and other modern instruments. But hula kahiko is an entirely different beast. It’s fast, frantic movement driven only by chants and a variety of drums. Born of ancient religious rituals and requiring the kind of strength and agility not normally developed slumped inside a cubicle eight hours daily staring at a computer terminal, a chance hula kahiko performance plugged me back into the natural world with a vengeance. I realized that adulthood had shifted my compass.

Once in Hawaii, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt grass underfoot. Hawaiians, the REAL Hawaiians that populate the small towns and countryside throughout Oahu, the Big Island, and the rest get it. From what I can tell, they never lost touch with the human/nature balance.

It’s been a year since I debarked that jet plane for two weeks in the tropics. Is it too cutesy to say it was a life-changing experience? Heck, I’ll say it anyway. The islands taught me more than I expected. I’m a lot happier these days. And while the rats continue racing frantically all around me, I’m proud to say I’m quite happy ambling along in the slow lane now.

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