On 10/10/10 I was run over by a boat during the Moloka’i Hoe Canoe Race. And it changed my life. The prop went through my back in five spots. Three deep lacerations ended up cutting off four spinal processes, splitting my pelvis, and severing my gluteal muscles. I was extremely lucky. One fractional difference in any direction and I would have been either dead or paralyzed. The feeling of being hit doesn’t go away. But neither does the euphoria of being alive. I am alive when I should be dead.
After being hit we had to drive back to Hale O Lono Harbor on Moloka’i. I lay face down in the back of a fishing boat for an hour. Based on the feeling in my body and the looks on everyone’s faces, I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it back. Other than the overwhelming desire to lay in a soft, clean, and warm hospital bed, all I could feel was how much I loved everyone around me. I wasn’t scared to die, but I was sad to die. I realized how much I love our beautiful world and everyone that is a part of it. I could literally feel a wave of love connecting me to everyone and everything. Even though I was staring at the bottom of a boat, I felt as if it was the first time that I could really see. I know that we always have that ability, I’d just buried it underneath the rest of my life. But once everything else crashed down in the face of death, it’s all that was left. It’s all that I wanted left and I was sad that I'd only just noticed.
It’s been one month now. As I build my life back up, I am starting to bury that feeling again. Sometimes the light playing across the ridges of the mountain outside my window (or across the face of my fiancée) pierces through the veil, but sometimes I look at it with sightless eyes. Now that I understand the feeling, I am determined to hold on. To not let the daily activities of my life bury the world.
I need to become a full-time resident of this planet: to hold on completely to the awareness of my surroundings, to the awareness of myself, and to the awareness of love. The only way I know how to do this, other than getting run over by a boat, is to strive consistently for the idea of sustainability. Each step towards minimizing my footprint is a step towards awareness.
I’ve been dabbling unsuccessfully for the last two years with some gardening. The only real success I’ve had is a large basil plant that lasted a couple of months. My efforts at real food (since apparently you can’t live off of basil) have been somewhat disastrous. I bought a Sweet Potato from Foodland and did what the Internet told me. I put it in a dark cabinet until it sprouted, then I put it in a cup of water until it had substantial roots. Then I planted it. And I watered it. And I waited. It kept getting bushier and bushier and I couldn’t help visualizing the huge potatoes waiting underneath the dirt. After six months I finally felt it was time to “reap the fruits of my labor.” I excitedly told Sokchea that we were going to barbecue my potato harvest. I dug for half an hour looking for potatoes in the dirt, my excitement slowly diminishing. Our barbecue ended up consisting of one Okinawan Sweet Potato the size of my thumb. I had somehow produced less than what I started with.
Now I’m going to do it right. I’m sure that I’ll have a lot more failures, and that some of them will be significantly more disastrous than the Okinawan Sweet Potato. But I need to do this. Not because I think I’m going to save the planet, or money, or time. I don't think I'll do any of those. I am going to work towards producing my own food and handling my own waste. To “going off the grid.” And I am doing it for myself. To remember what it feels like to be alive. To be connected. To be aware.
And I am going to write about it. Every success and every failure will be recorded. Not because I have anything to teach anyone, but because I have a lot to learn.
Luke
Luke
So beautiful, and so inspiring! Aiyanna
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