Saturday, August 29, 2015

Memories in Hawaii

During this last trip I learned to paddle board.  For me it was like riding a bike.  When I first learned to ride a bike, I fell down a lot.  It sucked.  I couldn't do it.  It was a day of frustration.  The same on the paddle board.  A lot of falling, and I had to stop when I was too tired to pull up onto the board anymore.

The second day, something inside my brain clicked and I was up within minutes.  Just like the bike.

I learned:
to look forward, not down,
the paddle is suppose to be in what looks like the backwards position,
I want to work out more when I get home,
I was glad I didn't pay for a lesson,
that when I was tired, I could sit down and paddle,
and I didn't care ever about what anyone thought.

There was one day, I paddled way too far.  I kept head up, watching the houses that were just down the beach from my condo.  Learned some new places to try and snorkel.  When I turned around to come back, I was way outside my imaginary boundary.

Coming back, I focused on mountain near little Beach on Maui.  Head up, watching that mountain and there is a face in it.  A old wise man with angry eyebrows.  A grumpy guy.  This face helped to keep me on the paddle board for days.  When I wouldn't fall, I'd say Mahalo to him.

Now I'm out of bounds, and having trouble going back to home base, the water was darkest blue.  The dark blue scared me because it was so unknown.  It seemed I wasn't moving with every paddle stroke.  I checked the face, not angry.  I registered concern.

I realized I was projecting out some serious concern when I turned around to come back.  Eventually I watched his face, and concentrated until I made it.  I never stopped paddling and anything dangerous about the whole thing seemed like a dream.
It always is.

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