Surrendering the Key

"Silence is the sleep that nourishes wisdom." -Sir Francis Bacon

Silence is most certainly golden. I don’t mean gilded in gold, with a pristine lacquer jacket and rusted inner organs. No, I’m talking about pure, 100%, bonafide, 24k gold. The kind of gold that runs for $1159.20 USD per oz (on a good day).

Friends, for an experiment that was supposed to last a total of 21 days (the Wikipedia-guaranteed time minimum for habit-breaking)… I have been silent for 21 days AND four months.

During this extended time of reflection I have laughed more than I can remember laughing in eons, and I have had enough adventures to take me contentedly into 2015.

I learned a different kind of bravery when I single-handedly brought down the house with a moving rendition of Barbara Streisand’s “Don’t Rain on My Parade” and an encore performance of Ella Fitzgerald’s “Summertime.” Red-faced, clammy-handed, and grinning from ear to ear, I took a bow before a ship-full of strangers and laughed, delighted, when the pianist kissed my hand and called me dahhhhling, with just the right amount of accent. It was truly the cruise of a lifetime.

I cultivated quality time with family. Board games, card games, and crossword puzzles, I played them all. The ensuing movie nights, family dinners, sports games, cleaning sprees, impromptu family extravaganzas, time spent with the people I love made all of the silent hours worth it.

Finally, the most important thing that I did during my silent, self-imposed hiatus, was to practice loving myself. I took advantage of the silence and remembered the things that make me a unique and valued individual. I relearned the hopes, the dreams and the deep-dark cries of my heart and for the first time in a long time, I listened.

Silence is indeed golden.

If you are anything like me, you are currently spending too much time spinning tall tales, too much time laughing at the jokes of others, and not enough time making memories of your own. Here is the good news, its not too late to learn the truth. In the words of Lao Tzu, “Silence is a source of great strength.”

Until now, I’ve been caught up in the crazy-wonderful-heartbeat of good-intentions until a few of my quickly spoken words became too bitter to swallow back down. In the past few months of silence I have done MORE. I have loved MORE. I have laughed MORE. And I have lived MORE.

And here is the best update of all…

While I was busy keeping this wicked tongue of mine silent, I turned inward and set myself (and my pen) loose on my greatest adventure to date. For every word that I have deprived you of, my friends, I have given my story two. For every page of travels I have forsaken in silence, I have taken my characters to places of new heights.

The time has come. This year has been a journey to top all journeys, and an adventure to be remembered. I thank you all for the love and support, and the words of encouragement. I am proud to announce that my 1^st novel is nearly complete! In my silence I found the voice I had been missing for a while. My own.

Beloved, place a guard over the cover of your mouth and throw away the key. Give it to your husband, your wife, your significant other, your sister, your brother, your best friend. Or best of all, give it to your God for safe-keeping, and listen, what you hear when you are silent just may surprise you.

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“He who has knowledge uses words with restraint: and a man of understanding is even-tempered.”  (Proverbs 17:27)

Wayfinding Through the Storm

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning how to dance in the rain." (Vivian Greene)

Although recently I have found myself overwhelmed by winds and rains that have rivaled hurricanes of epic proportion, my life is slowly coming back into focus through the fog. I am happy to report that since I have been able to partake in the miracle that is sustenance, every facet of my life has improved; my mental clarity, my emotional state, my ability to see the glass half full again, and most importantly, my faith.

I am no stranger to storms. I think about my life at a glance and the poem “Mother to Son,” by Langston Hughes immediately comes to mind. “Life for [her] ain’t been no crystal stair,” but still she encourages her son to push past the tacks, splinters and torn up boards and keep on climbing, even during the times where “there ain’t been no light.”

Some of the lights in my life have gone out. I’ve languished for a few months now trying to determine my course of direction, to no avail. In fact, if I am going to be entirely truthful here, after facing so many trials in my pre-Christ days, this time I figured I would simply wait for the “this too shall pass moment” and ride my newfound faith off into the sunset of happy endings. But as we both know, it doesn’t work like that. In life, you have to make your own happy endings.

Recently, I was blessed to attend a conference where I heard the indigenous keynote speaker give a presentation on professional team building. To give a very short synopsis, he equated team building with canoe paddling, and discussed how every single person in the voyaging canoe has a distinct and valued job. What a dose of perspective! For the people of Oceania, deep sea voyages were the foundation of traditional society. The role of the navigator is invaluable for many reasons, but in the midst of a storm, he or she must be able to navigate without sight, especially when each direction looks as dismal as the next.

In Polynesian culture, to successfully navigate a deep sea voyage, the navigator must always know where they are in relation to Tahiti. The ocean is unpredictable, and many things can happen at sea, but no matter what, you must never lose sight of Tahiti. Even when the way is dark, a master navigator will hold the image of Tahiti in their mind and chart the direction of the canoe on the compass of their na’au (their gut, their heart, and their faith).

For weeks I have floundered at sea, lost in the raging storm that has become my life. I’ve taken some hits, I’ve hunkered down, and I’ve wallowed long enough. I think it is finally time for me to fix my eyes once again on Tahiti and set out for shore. Will you journey with me in my canoe?

When a crew makes ready for a long voyage it is critical that each member of the team supports the purpose and mission of the journey. Sometimes there are people who desire to be a member of the crew, but they are not willing to uphold the vision of the navigator. Traditionally, those individuals are released with the words, “This canoe is not for you.”

How many times have we found ourselves in a canoe that was not meant for us? I’ve been so desperate to get into someone else’s canoe, so desperate for a chance to prove myself, a chance to be loved, a chance to be a part of something great… that I neglected my own canoe. My own heart. My own vision. I allowed the enemy to take the helm and trapped in my own fear, I lost sight of Tahiti.

For a long time, I filled my canoe with people who wanted me not for who I was as a person, but for what I could do for them. I believed that if I worked hard enough I could steer the canoe, set the pace, call the strokes, AND find Tahiti. (All without compromising the integrity of my heart.) I realize now, (as much as it pains me to admit it), that I can’t do it all. And really, I don’t have to! It’s time to re-group, re-calculate, and ensure that everyone paddling in my canoe has a clear understanding of the vision.

Where does faith fit into my journey? Just as Tahiti can stand as a metaphor for the mythical land of origins, Kahiki, to me Tahiti symbolizes the center of my faith, Jesus Christ. I am navigating this canoe with the vision of deepening my faith, seeking a closer relationship with God and attempting to be more like Him in the midst of trial and tribulation.

Not gonna lie, its been tough. With my eyes open all I can see are the clouds that obscure my view of the path, and recently its felt like night every day (without the stars). But after weeks of darkness, I finally understand that if I close my eyes and rely on the compass of my heart, my faith is a brightly burning beacon before me. And just like that, I can see Tahiti again! Finally, after months of wandering, I know my direction.

Thank you for journeying with me!

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 “You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.” (Jeremiah 29:13)

When Words Fail

"Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy
and keep choosing it every day!" (Henri J.M. Nouwen)

This last Monday, I submitted my resignation to the institution where I re-forged my identity. Its been one week and two days since I signed my name to the paper that would release me from the safe-haven where I have grown into the woman I am today.

As a student, I found comfort surrounded by stacks of textbooks in the corner office and struggled unsuccessfully through Hawaiian language homework while curled on koa pews. I listened to the Aunties weave stories of years gone by and sat at their knees with my mouth closed and my ears open. On those quiet Sunday mornings after service, the empty sanctuary felt just like home to me. I used to sneak onto the altar during the weekday afternoons and belt out His Eye is on the Sparrow when the church was dark and silent. It always felt like God heard my song echoing straight to heaven, and that was a balm to my heart like no other.

The tears that I’ve cried in these offices have stained the worn carpeted floors and antique upholstery. In the past three and a half years I’ve made my mark on these halls. I walk through the empty rooms and only silence echoes. I can feel the foundation of the very church crying with me.

The stones weep.

I want to duct tape myself to the front doors with chains and barbed wire and rage against the machine. But there is no one left to rail against. But God.

In one fell swoop the ground was swept out from under me and I lost my footing. Everything that oriented the compass of my heart has been demagnetized. I am completely unmoored.

But even amidst the grief that is washing over me, there is still the joy that my God has not forsaken me. That my family is still walking beside me despite the challenges. That my friends have taken to holding me up in the moments when I don’t want to go on. That the joy of my salvation is still secure, and that no one can ever take that away from me. That even amidst all of the trials and tribulations, the Enemy couldn’t fully eradicate my pride, and my self-worth, although the latter is slightly in pieces.

The time has come for me to step out into the world and decide anew what kind of person I want to be. Have you ever forgotten that we can do that anytime we want? That we as individuals can CHOOSE to be righteous amidst trial, can choose to speak life giving words, can choose to forgive. I’m through letting others dictate how they get to make me feel. Only I have the power to decide the direction of my identity. And I’m excited!

I haven’t blogged in two weeks (going on three), not because I haven’t had anything to say… but because I’ve had far too much to say, and none of it appropriate for public consumption. For the first time in my life I feel free. Its been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to write joyfully, and an even longer time since I’ve had the hours in the day to sit in Starbucks or crammed into a library nook agonizing over the perfection of a page.

Hello April! I dedicate the entirety of my creative juices to you this month. I have chosen to declare that this transition will be a blessing. While I pray for the job that I have left behind and send up prayers for the new job that God has for me in the near future, I plan to live in the JOY of the Lord every single day.

This is the month of Easter, the month where I get to shout from the rooftops, “He Is Risen!” and the angels shout back, “He Is Risen Indeed!” The month where I get to give thanks for the people I love, who chase away loneliness in my life. (Thanks guys!!) And sing songs of praise 24/7! Whooo hoooo!

But in this journey, I’ve learned at least one new lesson that I can share with all of you. When too many people are speaking words of advice into your life, it’s easy to forget the sound of your own voice. Dear ones, take the time to sit with yourself and honor the voice that is in your own head. Allow yourself to feel anger, pain, sadness and joy, and know that you are perfectly normal to grieve over change. Don’t diminish your own feelings because of the expectations of others. Honor yourself for choosing life, and do it daily.

For a girl who lives her life exalting in the power of words, it was eye opening to realize that sometimes, words fail. Sometimes the righteous are not victorious, sometimes standing up to evil means simply taking back what is yours and leaving the rest behind. After weeks of drowning in the flood, morning has broken and my spirit has resurfaced. In the words of Darrell Evans, “I’m trading my sorrow, I’m trading my shame, and I’m laying it down for the joy of the Lord.” Beloved, I wish all of you the same!

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“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” (Galatians 5:22-23)