Episode 3: Hawaii
Welcome to MOONDAY CAFE a podcast that’s posted every month on the day of the full moon.
MOONDAY CAFE is devoted to the mind-expanding, mind-bending magical power of story.
After a few months, Dovey finds herself abandoned in Japan. The Marine has sailed away for 2 years without discussing it with Dovey. The Mamasan helps her push onward, guiding her with a plan to seek a spiritual breakthrough. She arranges to make a journey to Hawaii for a solitary vision quest.
Dovey takes a leap.
Our guide is author, inspired performer, and barefoot cowgirl, Dovey Conlee.
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Episode 3: Hawaii
The vision quest outfitter had arranged for Dovey’s escape into the rainforest of Hawaii. Her flight from Japan was delayed in Guam after a passenger suddenly became very ill on the crowded plane. The Pan Am jet was still in US territorial waters and was ordered to land on the island to seek emergency medical assistance. The unfortunate delay of a half day gave her more time to think as she swam in her own emotional ocean, heightened by an even greater compassion for the passenger that would be left behind.
It had actually been harder for Dovey to say goodbye to the Japanese Mamasan that looked after her than it was to wave, through lonely tears, as the aircraft carrier departed with the Marine. The Marine would be on a hardship tour of two years. When his orders were received, it was a shock to Dovey because it was a selected or requested, tour. She didn’t see it coming and when she voiced her wounded opinion, she was informed that ‘this was his career and if she did not like it, there’s the door.’ The harsh training the Marine had received as a sniper made him a much different man. He was now considered a killer. And his persona was very proud of that type of power.
Words can be weapons and can never be retracted. That terrifying and that stinging statement about being shown to the door would never go away. It hung in the air threatening her fragile peace of mind that was already poisoned by that harsh confrontation. She needed ritual. She needed some form of comfort.
When the Mamasan saw the teary Dovey alone on her balcony, writing furiously in a rice-paper journal, she grabbed her purse and headed out of the office that also served as her apartment and placed the ‘be back soon’ sign on the door and turned the lock. She eased into the alley and moved out of sight, making her way to the village market where ‘news’ was more fresh than the daily catch brought in from the South China Sea.
The Mamasan was like a house mother, always comforting and wise in her understanding of the trials of a military career. She herself had married a GI that did take her to the states only to have her realize that with that form of loneliness, she was better off with her own people back on the island nation of Japan. She surrendered her life in the US and in return was given a small hotel as a settlement and moved forward with her life, always open to the concerns and the tears of the misplaced wives that try to make a go towards a balanced relationship. The Mamasan was quick to sooth and wise to stay out of others’ misunderstandings and emotional turmoils, but she was also swift to gain confidence and whip smart with her wisdom about impasses and deal breaking difficulties.
As expected, at the market, news of the aircraft carrier’s arrival was in the air and it brought with it a mix of emotions and possibilities. Provision orders had arrived from the purser’s office onboard and the itinerary for the ship’s arrival was revealed; it would arrive by the end of the week and would dock for a full week before departing for the long tour that would post the vessel off the shores of Cambodia and Vietnam. Although the war had technically been ‘over,’ it was clearly not ‘over’ and the military training was more than just training. There was still a bit of battle.
Dovey layered up for the walk to the Shinto temple that was on the edge of the Kinville village. It was her ritual routine for grounding. The incense, the bells, the chanting of prayers from the reverent men and women dressed in their stoic variations of magara kimonos, the bald Buddhists dressed in turmeric colored togas, the children in plaid school uniforms, the crowds paying respects and praying, all felt grounding for her. Daily, she visited the temple where a bank of drawers offered fortunes in exchange for a coin tithe. The fortunes were a long-reaching grasp at something to comfort her. It gave her a feeling of direction and reminded her of the Texas Curandera of her youth.
The Shinto shrine fortunes were slips of paper that resembled the Chinese fortunes wrapped inside an almond cookie, but the Japanese versions were a much larger strip of paper and each offered a spiritual message that was embedded into the calligraphy.
The fortune that Dovey pulled from the large bank of 100 drawers had a crisp and startling message. It read….
LIFE OPENS DOORS FOR SOME AND CLOSES DOORS FOR OTHERS, BUT YOUR ANCESTORS SHINE ON YOU LIKE A THOUSAND SUNS.
Sigh. Fitting, she thought to herself and stared at the burning bowl where the fortunes are ceremonially changed into smoke that is believed to rise into the heavens. She waited in line for a turn at tossing the narrow strip of paper into the coals.
As the smoke curled up and began moving through the temple garden, she felt a knowing come over her. She knew she was not wanted. The Marine was gone.
She had written in her journal….
Relationships come in all forms.
Relationships that teach.
Relationships that heal.
Relationships that deliver us into new realms.
When she returned to the tiny hotel, the Mamasan was waiting for her in the tiled lobby, pretending to water the many plants lining the front window. As she entered, the Mamasan, spoke to her softly in Japanese, calling her MESUME, or daughter.
When Dovey heard the affection, she withered some and bowed her own head. The Mamasan bowed deeply toward her, honoring the obvious grief.
The Mamasan said YOU SHOULD NOT STAY HERE, but what Dovey heard was YOU CANNOT STAY HERE, accelerating her despair. She had no other place to go. She felt an even greater abandonment and, once again, she felt so very alone with no plan.
Over the next few days, the Mamasan kindly coached her, helping her make plans to depart Japan for a spiritual awakening journey to Hawaii. The Mamasan shared about the mysticism of the Polynesian culture that inhabited those islands and the healing vortices located throughout the arpeggio. She had been there herself on her own spiritual adventure.
There was an outfitter, she told her, that arranged for individual ‘vision quests’ in the rainforest on the sparsely populated island of Kauai. It had been proven that it was the strongest place in the entire Pacific to heal a broken heart and to speak to the soul inside.
Over the next 2 weeks, Dovey made silent, ambitious plans, then took her life into her own hands. She would go first to Hawaii.
When the delayed Pan Am flight finally arrived in Honolulu, Dovey cleared customs and immigration for the first time in her life. Seeing the sign of welcome into the United States of America gave her a lift and the organization of the western culture helped her feel more sane. The crowds in Japan on the subways, the trains, the ferries, it was just too suffocating and she was glad to feel that American island breeze that felt like a promise.
There is a startling power in the unparalleled beauty of the Hawaiian Islands. Deeper inside the very heart of the culture and social customs of Hawaiians lies a rich tradition of spiritual expression. Perspectives and practices of Polynesian myth and magic are passed down through generations. Hawaii felt welcoming.
3 hours after landing in Honolulu, Dovey boarded a commuter jet that landed in a tropical, open-air terminal on the lush island of Kauai. The Mamasan had directed her to find the hangar that held the helicopter touring service and to ask for Nigel, who would be expecting Dovey. When she found the building, the heliport there had a royal blue helicopter idling, rotors spinning and the staff there rushed to grab her bags, identifying her by name and introduced her to her pilot. She watched as her luggage was loaded, along with provisions for her journey. After a few safety tips were given, she boarded the aircraft and they ascended into the sunny sky.
The Australian pilot of the Bell-Jet Ranger landed the blue helicopter in an open field on the edge of a roaring waterfall. He instructed her to stay inside until the rotors came to a full pause. As the beast churned more slowly, moving towards a complete stop, she was overwhelmed, but the excitement made her feel that she might faint. Like, a ‘freak-out’ type of faint.
The thought of 3 days alone in this makeshift camp was the things that idiots dream up and it wasn’t too late to make the pilot take her back in a hasty retreat. No one really cared about her future BUT the Mamasan, and yet, here, in this isolated garden of Eden, she even questioned that, as if to think perhaps this was a bad decision.
The Nepali Coast of Kauai with its tall bony fingers reaches out to the northern Pacific, forming small coves with a big surf, dangerous tides and lush mountaintop rainforests. This portion of the rainforest held a strong, sacred vortex, a power point and it was completely private.
When the pilot stepped out of the helicopter, he pulled her luggage and her provisions out of the back and advised her that he would set up her camp. Dovey followed the man up a trail and through some massive banyan trees that cascaded with orchids and ferns. Garden variety pathos ivy, elephant ears and dracaena plants lined the pathway as if a gardener had placed each plant on purpose. Colored parakeets flitted through the landscape.The beauty was beyond any type of belief, completely beyond imagination. It was technicolor.
When they reached the tent, it matched the photographs that the Mamasan had showed her. Inside, it was set like a safari tent with a deck and a bed ready for the linens that were part of the provisions. There was a large barrel with fresh water and a bowl with a pitcher to act as a sink; there was an outer latrine with an outdoor shower and a toilet. There were 3 kerosene lanterns and a box of waterproof matches. A hammock, a small desk-like table and one chair. The deck was lined with cocoa palm trees and night blooming jasmine. There was incense, a small gong, a vase with fresh flowers, a small trunk and an armoire to act as a closet. Ribbons, feathers, stones and other talismans from previous questers decorated the tent poles and canvas walls. She heard a faint wind chime. She heard birdsongs.
When the pilot brought the provisions, he placed the basket of fruit on the table and placed some other not so perishable groceries inside the wardrobe. Kindly, it was time to understand the aspects of this adventure that was about to unfold. The pilot sat on the small trunk and pulled out a pamphlet of the typed rules, per se, and instructions for a successful, solitary vision quest.
A flag pole there was the only form of communication. A green flag was required to be flown all day to show that there were no emergencies or needs. If there WAS an emergency of any sort, then a red flag was to be flown. A neighboring command post from the lower part of the hill would watch the flags and transfer that information to the heliport. If the fog and the daily rains shrouded the flag pole, she was on her own until the skies cleared. Dovey nodded as she re-evaluated her choice to do this alone, by herself. Parts of her heart were exploding from the adrenaline. It felt like a real purgatory.
She learned that there were no poisonous snakes on the island and that wildlife was minimal, but there. Likely she would see a spider here and there, perhaps a field mouse, plenty of frogs, but rarely anything past that at this clouded altitude.
The pilot was firm with the main command that the coastline was totally off limits. The view from above was compelling, but the ocean unforgivably treacherous.
After the pilot asked if she had any more questions, he stood, shook her hand, synchronized his watch with hers and departed down the trail to start the helicopter and then disappear into the distance, leaving her there with her journal, her wild imagination and a terrifying need to ‘meet and know’ her true self. Finally. And, to ask that her ancestors show her the way into her future.
The FULL MOON began to rise.
Movement forward is always a risk, but it’s also worth the shot.
She is in a much larger, more magical world now.
So, Dovey takes a leap….into magic.
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