How To Be Bold and Humble

One week ago, I arrived at a very small airport, hopped on a very small plane, and flew to a very small island. Nothing more about my weekend in Moloka'i was small... except for the two children that joined me in my sleeping bag for the best night of cuddling I've ever had.

This post is about getting there.

When I found the building that welcomes commuters to inter-island travel, I walked up to the counter and spelled out my name for the friendly young woman behind it. I handed over my backpack to the smiling man in the neon vest, only after he told me there was no added fee. I had an hour and twenty minutes and no security line-- just a bagel with lox, my notebook and a sky full of sunshine. So I sat on a patch of grass just yards away and scribbled down my scattered thoughts. I was determined to justify to myself my feelings of desperation.

How do I at once be bold and humble? How do I at once be thoughtful and brave? How do I know when to laugh off an insult and when to start a riot? 

The state of the world is in our hands yet we are not strong enough to hold it. We know this, and yet we carry on. We define ourselves as a species every single moment, and surely we must know this, and surely, we settle. We could do better, but even our best will never suffice, for the world will always be greater than our capacity to understand it. 

Need we understand to achieve? Need we know kindness in order to be kind? To love?

Our individual actions as a collective action will not save us from ourselves. There will always be pain and failure and misunderstanding. There will always be room to grow. This is beauty of our human state.

If our actions are doomed to be insufficient, our efforts, then, are our only indicators of progress. Our individual efforts as a collective effort shall define the character of humanity. 

"I am also other than what I imagine myself to be. To know this is forgiveness." This is a quotation from Gravity and Grace, a mind-blowing, mildly depressing read composed by Simone Weil. "Love demands that the lover sacrifice for the beloved." -Meher Baba.

We all stood at the gate as another guy in a neon vest called out our seat assignments, classroom-style. Nine passengers in all, we crossed the asphalt, climbed the stairs onto the plane, and crouched down the aisle to our respective seats. The co-pilot, looking over the lenses of his wayfarer shades, recited the rules and safety procedures with the Maui ease, holding the curtain that separated the control deck of the plane from the reliant rows of strangers. When finished, he turned back around to face the nose, and the pilot reached back to pull shut the little white curtain. I thought about his nerves and wondered if he felt the weight of lives-at-stake every time he lifted this island-hopper off the ground, or if it only occurred to him once in a while. 

Drive, turn, take off. Haleakala to my left, the rippling ocean to my right, I can't help but think I'm riding the magic school bus. The wobble makes me grin: Oh, Maui.

If you look down at the ocean from a hopper plane above on a windy day, you'll see a mass that looks not unlike the night sky. The deep blue vastness is speckled with spots of white-- little currents gathering and dismembering endlessly. Shift your gaze outward toward the horizon, and you'll see a blanket of waves. coming together as one breath, falling under and over itself like a silent warrior. 

As we flew over the cliffs of Moloka'i, I felt embraced. We landed smoothly. My Mor Mor would have called it anything but smooth. Upon braking, I looked left to see a family of smiling faces pressed against the windows as they beamed with anxious excitement over the arrival of one of my fellow fliers. Hoopea Airport is very cute. 

I hopped into the bed of Pihana's pickup truck with her husband Matthew. Uncle Mike was in the passenger seat. Matthew, a big-hearted young man, said to me, yelling over the rush of the air, "When people come to Moloka'i, they don't want to leave. This is the land that time forgot." When we stopped at his house to pick up his Coors, he gifted me and Kumu each an avocado. 

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To read about my weekend on the magical island of Moloka'i, read our most recent post in the Ho'omana Spa Maui Blog.