February 01, 2006
Nothing Is Lost
Punahele...Surf on the Rocks at Punanlu'u state beach Big Island of Hawaii
Nothing is Lost
Deep in our sub-conscious,
we are told
Lie all our memories,
lie all the notes
Of all the music
we have ever heard
And all the phrases
those we loved have spoken,
Sorrows and losses
time has since consoled,
Family jokes,
out-moded anecdotes
Each sentimental
souvenir and token
Everything seen,
experienced, each word
Addressed to us
in infancy, before
Before we could even know
or understand
The implications
of our wonderland.
There they all are,
the legendary lies
The birthday treats,
the sights,
the sounds,
the tears
Forgotten debris
of forgotten years
Waiting to be recalled,
waiting to rise
Before our world dissolves
before our eyes
Waiting for some small,
intimate reminder,
A word,
a tune,
a known familiar scent
An echo from the past
when, innocent
We looked upon the present
with delight
And doubted not
the future would be kinder
And never knew
the loneliness of night.
Noel CowardNo, nothing is wasted. I am in the process of selecting and posting "My Favorite Posts" on my sidebar. This has necessitated my reading my entire blog over the past few days. (this has got to tell you how NOT busy I am at work...) As I did this I was reminded of a long ago conversation with my therepist Jan about my keeping a journal...
..."You have kept a journal for the past ten years? Keep on keeping it.Be brutally honest, document your life truthfully. Use it as a tool to monitor your progress in recovery. Take the time to read back and see how far you have come... and how really little has changed, for we are always light years away yet just around the corner from where we have come from..."
My blog performs a similar function these days. While in Hawaii it helped me to stay focused and not lose sight of the truth. It gave me a place to vent all that I felt about The Journey, let me grieve publically and privately at the same time. I might have had to have a stiff upper lip in public, but I could bleed all over the place here on my blog...
Now it is a living document that shows me in words and photos where we have been and where we are going. It also convicts me when I have the nerve to think we are bad off here, or when I am filed with resentment. Yes, Woody is maddening and perhaps we are heading for the end of the road, but Hawaii was a dead end, and I know it.
But like the peom says, nothing is wasted...there are moments when in the inner corridors of my mind, I can still hear the roar of the on comming storm front as the Puna Rain came thundering in off the ocean, the crash of the down pour then the deafening silence as it passed... the sweetness of plumeria and ginger sented air and the trill of the green house frogs...
Like the singers on Aloha Joe that live in LA or NYC but sing songs like "Molokai'i, Sweet Home" or "Take Me Home to Waimanallo" I can now count myself as a part of the Hawaiian Diaspora. I sing along, sometimes in two languages and my coworkers ask me if the music doesnt make me sadder. It does but it comforts me to. It lets me know that other kama'aina leave the islands and survive the loss, I will too, as long as I have my memories, photos and my thoughts it will be well...
Nothing is lost... and perhaps more is gained...
