Sunday, February 11, 2024
Not all my visions are realized
But all my visions are seen
Those unrealized are touched in a reality a taste away
It’s fragrance luring me through realities
A maze of hide and seek
Few touched, some seen, most felt
To play, to keep me tucked away, from the terrifying reality
where I am at the helm to unleash
All that is now
Nov 9, 2025 Lafayette Park, San Francisco
We moved every few minutes to find the perfect position to lay on our made-for-one picnic blankets. Our backs to the ground were the most comfortable—light blue sky above, white jetstreams dissolving into clouds. But on our backs we couldn’t see each other as we played catch-up on months of unshared stories of our lives. So we slithered, writhed and rotated like lazy seals docked near the marina, trying to position ourselves in a way that felt like home yet didn’t disrupt the best view of all—of a dear friend sharing an intimate story, almost a secret, in a profound act of vulnerability.
She didn’t want it that sunny, I wanted some, the sun moved too, and so it was a dance, an unorchestrated one. It felt like peace to flow with my friend, especially after so long and especially with someone so lovely, one who reminds me that I’m not the only person living life and facing the tiny and sometimes huge pebbles stuck in my shoes. Unable to pause and take care of myself, nor able to ask for help, stuck in an in-between, questioning your ability to survive, pushing your ability to survive. Why do we do this? Why do we choose to live life hard? It can be really easy, but then where’s the life in that?
The pebbles we choose to suffer over are the embellishments we decorate this life given to us with. It’s our masterpiece—choosing our suffering as life’s artistry. Having friends who share their embellishments and which ones they picked is a gift. It allows one to see one’s own humanity reflected back, just in different garb, that’s when you know you are alive—enough to see another and to see yourself.
Friday, December 6, 2024
Jump off line: Tell me all about it
I went surfing. My instructor Lily is part of the only women-owned surf school here in Oahu – the North Shore Surf Girls. Lily looks like a supermodel – tall, fit, blonde with blue eyes. She is radiant, jovial and just beautiful. She grew up here and has been surfing in these parts since she was 6.
She starts with teaching me the techniques, the dos and don’ts. Towards the end she asks me ,“are you ready?”. My reflex answer to that question is “I was born Reddy!” but before I could respond, she exclaimed “you look ready!” I don’t know why I thought it would take me another 2-3 weeks of physical therapy and exercise to attempt surfing.
I walk into the water, it’s rocky and the water is just right, not too cold. Soon, I get onto my longboard and start paddling. I am hit with shock mixed with surprise. I blurt out “it’s so soft!” Lily looks at me puzzled. “The water.. it’s so soft I don’t know why I was expecting it to be hard. It’s like.. like water!” I can’t believe myself. I had unknowingly been bracing myself for this moment for weeks now. A habit I seem to have developed in preparation for doing things I deem hard. Here I had somehow equated my ability to surf to be proof that I was ready to go back and face the world – what had seemed so hard the last few months. I had thought of surfing as a high bar for a tired, moody, chaotic me to achieve.
Lilly helps position me to catch my first wave. “Push up!” She says. That’s my cue to start paddling as fast as I can so that I can get on the board just as the wave starts to roll and so I get on my board, find my balance but the wave peters out… “Ahh you need a longer wave! Hold on” This next one I paddle, get on my knees and then my feet, I wobble, find my balance and then I stare out at the beach and palm trees with my jaw wide open. I caught a wave. And it lasted a loooong time. I drop back into the water and can hear Lily screaming and cheering me on. I catch another. And another. And another and many more. I start asking Lily tips on how to get better and what’s good versus great and how long it would take to not be a beginner and what that means. She answers my questions, we chit chat about her life and my life. She later says, “I just surf for fun. I enjoy the small waves, nice and mellow. I don’t care about the big waves.” That’s when I decide that I am not gonna aim for the big waves, I am just going to have as much fun as I can. I am keeping surfing as my fun thing. And I might extend that philosophy to all of life. My fun thing.
Thursday, December 5, 2024
Jump off line: Here’s what I want me to remember
I am finally picking the light stuff. A bracelet with different crystals – blue, pink, white and brown – all translucent and light. I replaced my black coffee mug of 16 years with a new one I bought today with heart like shapes watercolored in all hues of the rainbow. I am about to get a surfing lesson. One after a decade. Ironically I am wearing the same skin guard and shorts I did when I last surfed the warm waters of the Pacific Ocean. But I am different. Curiosity has been superseded by caution. I now know the ocean can be uncertain. It can surprise you. Take you off guard. I choose to remember how she can also delight you. Match your vibe. I am both excited and nervous, uncertain which. I remember my tattoo which is now part of me. It says I am you and you are me. I know not a better you than the ocean herself. Atleast I’m certain of this.
Thursday, December 5, 2024
Jump off line: You can let yourself be known here
“You know what we are talking is real?”, he said. I nodded. “Others want me to talk like them, to get to their level. It’s so rare to get to speak like this.” “Yeah, which is why I don’t think I’ve ever really spoken.” He chuckles. “You’re funny.”
I have a constant thread in my head which is playing Tetris to fit in the various things I wanna do today versus tomorrow, planning out how long I want to stay here before going to Maui, should I move to Waikiki or stay here? Do I need the consistency of familiarity or am I ready to risk disruption.. and so on. I try to be present every moment but it seems impossible. One has to plan. Right? Yes, but you have the choice to sequence it or schedule it or hit snooze to that thread. And, more importantly, trust yourself to follow through. Like you would if you promised a child that you’d get back to them. You would, wouldn’t you? Take the leap of faith and trust yourself to follow through like you always have to others even if not always to yourself. Loosen control a bit and put an end to the recurring thoughts like the many alarms you snooze every morning. You only need one alarm to begin with and if you live right you won’t even need that. Things come to you at the right time. All I am saying is that there is a pink rubber stamp I bought in a little Japanese shop in East Village, NYC that says “Trust the timing of your life.”
Tuesday, December 3, 2024
Jump off line: A few things in no particular order
I woke up thinking I wasn’t doing enough, not making progress fast enough, not healing soon enough and then I saw a snail in the garden with its shell on.
Jacob, my paddle board instructor points out the Hawaiian Green sea turtles in the water, on the beach. He tells me they like to ride the current. I ask him how can I paddle faster. He tells me I don’t need to.
In the morning I sit with my blue majik spirulina bowl in what has become a daily routine of jogging, meditating, doing nothing by the beach. I google the benefits of spirulina, it feels good in my body. I marvel at my bodies ability to tell what feels good versus great. It’s starting to speak to me. My doctor said that when I first came to him 4 months back I was disconnected. Presumably from my body.
A guy at the beach says aloha to me, I assume he is talking on his headphones and ignore him. He says, “I have been coming to this beach since I was 2. Here in Hawaii when somebody gives you aloha, you give some aloha back. Else the locals will stop talking to you.” I apologize. We start talking. For 3 hours. He tells me about the history of the island, the many people who came to conquer it. He is very knowledgeable. He is a surf instructor. I get to know that he has coached world champions. We talk about what it takes to get good. He tells me about the Makai, the ocean. How you have to know it’s every turn, its currents, its subtleties. It’s a dance.. and she throws them off every now and then.. but it’s all fun. I tell him about my desire to learn surfing. My plan to create an ecosystem. I marvel at his intellect.
Later in the afternoon, I take an hour to learn how to breathe right. I play around with various angles of my neck and spine, see what feels right.
Valeria was cleaning my room and took 5 mins to properly line the trash bin. She says she’s a perfectionist, that she does things with love.
I feel awe for the Hawaiian spirit. I am drawn to this land like a bee to its hive.
Sunday, December 1, 2024
I put on my sneakers for the first time in this trip thinking I am finally ready for a little morning jog. I jogged slowly down the bike lane flanked by lush greenery unique to Hawaii and the many wandering iridescent roosters. I hit shuffle on my Lotus Love Spotify playlist and the song ‘Morning Sun’ comes on. I am reminded of the yoga instructor who introduced me to this song whose directions to child pose towards the right to the sun and the left to the moon and then the center to the stellar spellbound me. I let it play and then played ‘The Cyberpunk Runner’ to increase my tempo. I tried it for a few minutes and felt distracted. Mood noted. I switch back to playing Morning Sun on loop for the remainder of the job. It must have been a couple of miles till I got to the Sunrise Shack. I got my almond coconut bullet coffee and Açaí bowl topped with vegan protein. I went down the nearby beach, took off my sneakers and sat in silence. The sand was cold, the morning sun had not hit it yet. I finished my coffee and bowl while I started to take note of the thoughts pouring out.. in the form of a memo(!). It was my immediate plan of action. Finally some clarity. I shared it with family and realized that I was finally feeling confident enough in myself to do so. I was anxious about their response. I stood up and stretched, massaged and gently touched my body to listen to it, the only way I know to love myself. I remembered to stand at ease like Jill taught me yesterday. It felt counterintuitive. Jill said it’s because it’s my blind spot. I stood still with my feet looking far out at the glistening ocean, sinking deeper and deeper into the sand with each incoming wave. I saw a medium sized black crab and was reminded of their adaptability and ability to self protect at will with their shell. I wanted to take more pictures but my phone battery died. After a while I felt ready to walk back. My feet were sandy, so I walked on the trail barefoot for a bit till it dried out. The tiny pebbles and twigs felt like natural foot acupuncture. I felt thirsty and was surprised to immediately turn a corner to find drinking water fountain. I didn’t know how far my hike back to the lodge was and walked slowly past joggers, dog walkers, moms feeding their kids breakfast as they made castles in the sand. I let my mind wander. I walked behind a family for a while. The dad was holding a baby who did not break eye contact with me for a while. I started to play funny faces with her like my mother did with me till she got bored of me or I of her. I got to the lodge and started thinking of what I wanted to do next and scratched my left little toe along a rock. I was reminded to be mindful of my body and not careless with it. I ran into Bernie and he asked me how my morning was. It was perfect. I was perfect this morning.
Write me a song
That lights me up
Takes me to the stratosphere
And beyond
To the galaxies
And the Milky Way
To Neptune Uranus and the Sun
Write me a song
Where I feel like I’m amongst the stars
Bright and shining
As bright as I can be
As bright as I am
There is no containing me now
Write me a song
That showers
Star dust on everybody breathing and alive
Star dust on everybody breathing and dead
Star dust on everybody to make them come alive
Write me a song
Diamonds and dollars
Pouring and all around me
Turn me up
I want you to write me a love song
That makes the birds sing
The bees hum
And the wolfs howl
Write me a song
Look me in the eye
Write me a song
Then say my name
If I’m not seeking meaning in some future state or the past,
if my joys are not from my fantasies and the possibilities,
Where do I find meaning if such a thing exists?
Where do I create one?
Perhaps in nature around me, in beauty
and the little choices of the day, in stretching just a little
towards the future while immersing in the present.
The more alive I am in the now, the slower time passes.
Trust the timing of your life.
Prosperity 