Vast, Vacant, Past, Present

I just returned a few days ago from my first trip to the Big Island. It was a short one, lasting only four days, but it was enough to calm my island fever, at least for a little while. I completely fell in love with the place, its vastness and open expanses of land. I couldn't believe just how un-Hawaiian it seemed in some parts. Kohala, Waimea and the drive up Mauna Kea transported me to English countrysides, the Kentucky Derby and Northern California, and Mauna Kea itself took me to some desolate parts of Iceland, which exist only in my imagination from photos that I've seen. I felt like I could finally breathe and fill my lungs and soul alike with openness and fresh life. It's hard to explain what a profound impact the place had on me. I could have cried when I saw the happiness of the free cows, goats, sheep and horses, grazing on the lush green hills and fields, not a care in the world. I was witnessing pure peace. Yet the island also held some powerful energies, especially near the volcano and South Point—torrid fields of lava and bulldozing winds.

Parallel to the open and vast experience of the big island, which I only hope to continue to experience in my life, my family is undergoing an extreme home makeover. (Not like the show, where people come and clean up our crap) we're replacing all of our carpets and mattresses and selling the majority of our furniture, and old things, to make room (not necessarily for new but for the sake of room.)

The other day I disassembled my twin bed, which I've slept on since I was 11, and finally got a larger mattress. It makes such a big difference in the quality of my sleep. I'm sleeping on a firm full now, no box spring, nor frame for the time being, and have slept better these past two nights than probably this entire year (except a few nights here and there at other homes and in Sweden.) I have taken down almost all paintings in my room, and all of the trinkets that hung from my walls and other surfaces. I replaced my red sheets with white ones and I'm ridding my room of everything that's not essential. It's so clean and peaceful in here now. I cherish the sunflower painted on my wall, and the vase of Shasta daisies from my garden on my window sill, but everything else can go.

It feels great. It's interesting, because in Germany my room was pretty sterile and uncharacteristic and it only depressed me. Then I longed for nothing but paint on my walls, curtains, and colorful things everywhere. Now I want the opposite, and just need a blank slate for thinking and feeling. Curious...

It's an interesting time of expansion, I feel. I think that moving is upon me, and that I'm wrapping up my life here, and letting go of material things from the past that I no longer need. We'll see what the future will bring.