Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Sparks and Flickers

56.9 degrees in the dark of this Kilauea morning.  That’s cold for Kauai.

I swear the honey in the squeeze bear is moving more slowly because of it.

With knee highs and an afghan, I reflect on yesterday’s post about my intent to be porous.  To let myself be truly touched by life.

To be truthful, there was no long sustained wave of open-heartedness where I was washed in blissful love light.  But there were flickers of sweetness in the day.

A co-worker called me “honey” when she told me I’d found her exactly what she needed.

The soulful surrender of a Piers Faccini‘s song over studio speakers:
Joy joy
I’m out of luck
Joy joy
I give up
(whole song here and more about yesterday’s radio show, Music as Medicine here)

Driving past a woman walking alone on a country road.  Her face smiling, the wind blowing her blouse alongside the bananas.

Greeting eyes with a long-time, handsome friend.

Holding my son in my lap as he told me about his day.

Being handed a home-grown rose in full bloom.  Inhaling the scent – and as always – being transported to Marionette road, where my great-grandmother’s roses lined the driveway and filled my seven year old head with floral love.

photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved

Sparks of light.  Small calls to live and feel deeply.  To let the moments permeate and pass.

6:59am.  Gonna let breakfast preparations permeate my being now.

Here’s to sparks and flickers!

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

The First Day of 2011

I wake in the dark to an empty house, well-rested.  Brew coffee and write.

As the first shadows begin to appear in the early morning sun rise, I make my way to my car and drive to one of the most beautiful beaches I know.  My steps are the first imprints of 2011 on these golden sands, wandering slowly under a pinking sky.

Often during this time of year the waves are so big you cannot walk to the end of the beach.  This morning the winter swell is moderate, the tide low.

photo courtesy of Pepe Conley

I have an all-access pass to the place that is my temple.  Not a soul in sight.

At the fresh-water spring that flows through rock and thick green moss, I strip down and stand in the tall fall.  Look out at the vast ocean that stretches north into nothing but horizon.  Salt and sea mist rise and cool water anoints my crown.  Good morning!

In the afternoon Jeb and I load up my car with good friends and a big bowl of Thai squash soup.  The scent of garlic and curry wafts through the vehicle as we make our way to the Taro Patch where a community potluck is being held.  Hawaiian chanting, African drumming, songwriters and a didgeridoo.  Two couples get up and renew vows before the 400+ crowd in ‘sacred union’ ceremony.  There is interpretive dance that I think has something to do with a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

All of Kauai’s woo woo crew are here in a potpourri of bright batiks, Hawaiian prints, Burning Man accessories, fedoras and board shorts.  We are an eclectic family all perspiring together in the muggy grass.  But we’re happy by the riverside, in the sacred space of this place at the base of Kalalea – Anahola’s distinctive mountain.

Children run about safely unattended.  Jeb keeps scaling jagged lava rock and I can’t decide if I should pluck him down or just stop watching.  Elijah and John Dumas are on the stage singing about the freedom of living your dreams.  They’ve altered the standard “Happy New Year” so that we all may transcend time and space, by simply saying “Happy New Now.”  It’s New Year’s Day on Kauai.

The event culminates with a “Goddess Chant” but I’m confused to see all the women at the back of the stage and a man with the mic in the front singing about opening our hearts.  We gather our things and exit before I have a chance to see them come front and center.

Back home with friends, we eat a simple dinner of garden pesto and pasta.  Crisp bread and red wine.  For dessert, maple wafers and tangerines by the fire, while a friend from Tahiti tells tales of diving with dolphins in his thick French accent.  Jeb demonstrates how to make a blade of grass whistle in your hands.

From Kauai, I’m wishing you a beautiful new year and a most excellent ‘Now’!

 

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 1 Comment

Best Laid Plans…

contingency |kənˈtinjənsē|
noun ( pl. -cies)
a future event or circumstance that is possible but cannot be predicted with certainty
• a provision for such an events or circumstance : a contingency reserve.
• the absence of certainty in events
• Philosophy the absence of necessity; the fact of being so without having to be so.
ORIGIN mid 16th cent. (in the philosophical sense): from late Latin contingentia (in its medieval Latin sense ‘circumstance’ ), from contingere ‘befall’ (see contingent ).

5:45am and I’m driving in the dark to Foodland on a vinegar mission.  Jeb’s magic potions have tapped our house’s supply and the representative at Sears says I need to dump vinegar in my malfunctioning washing machine.

I get on a plane tonight and my planning list did not include this troubleshooting on the agenda.  Friends laugh at me for packing two weeks early but I’ve got this penchant towards contingencies.  I expect the unexpected.  This washer on the fritz – case in point.

There have been other flare ups not penciled into my itinerary.  Didn’t expect Jeb to have two bodily injuries in one week, which factored in a last-minute doctor’s appointment.  I also didn’t expect my cell phone’s voicemail to lock me out the day before departure.

But if it’s all about the journey, then I try to do some sight-seeing along the detours.  Jeb got his first chiropractic adjustment, faced some fears and left the office walking a little taller.  I met Joey, the Apple tech support rep who was having a slow night and welcomed the chance to get me back into my voicemail, wishing me a good trip.

You gotta trust a change of plans.  For instance, yesterday I learned the rocket scientist would not be present at my coastal feel-good place.  Our roads are so forked we’re not even on the same continent.  My retreat takes on new elbow room.

Driving back from Foodland with my quart of vinegar by my side, the sky is just beginning to light in purple mauves and greys.  Venus sidles up to the sliver of the waning moon, hanging low above the island highway.  This moment is precious.  One I would not have had if my washer was in perfect working order.

So I’ll splash some vinegar around inside the Kenmore.  Reference my to do lists and keep crossing off the tasks accomplished.  I’ve got a semblance of a plan in mind.  It makes it smoother.  But most certainly those things you just can’t imagine – the twists in the plot, the unexpected guests – they bring the magic (even in their disrepair) if we take the time to let them shape our path.

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
John Lennon (Beautiful Boy)