...the end result when indulging in something you love, only to be constantly reminded and bothered by it later.
Sandruff.
Finally it was Monday! (Can't think of a time I have ever been excited about a Monday), but it was my day off. And I was super stoked to go explore the island. Knowing there are beautiful white, black and green sand beaches, sharks, raging waterfalls, plush gardens, the adrenaline of paddle boarding and surfing, lava flowing down the volcano, snow atop Mauna Kea, astonishing sunsets, miles of hiking trails...makes working over-time every week that much more painful. It also makes sleeping that much less of a priority. Which would explain my exhaustion, thank God and Hawaii for Kona coffee!
I had only met Melody for 30 seconds max, a fellow traveler from Georgia, when she invited me to go hiking. I felt my heart flutter in that moment. Yes! Yes! Yes! I would love to go. Rain or shine, we were meeting at 9 am in parking spot #48.
With my stained Northface zip-offs clinging to my body, my swimsuit secretly hiding underneath my tank top and windbreaker, my feet squishing in my gym shoes turned trashed hiking shoes (by default), my backpack bursting at the seams stuffed with powerade, sunscreen, and my umbrella, a steaming Kona coffee in hand, I found myself at parking spot #48 at 9:00 sharp.
Giddy. Excited. Anticipating. Waiting.
I was so lost in thought, I didn't realize the sprinkle had picked up speed to a downpour. The sky was growing darker, heavier; demanding attention.
After a quick meet and greet, Lindi another traveler from Mississippi, we were off.
After a few minutes of driving in pouring rain, flash flood warnings being broadcasted through the Jeep's crackly speakers, and slippery island roads, we decided to ditch our hiking plans and road trip to Hapuna (about 1.5 hours to the other side of the island). I was a bit disappointed, as I was stoked to go hiking. But having quickly learned not to mess with Mother Nature on this Island as: She trumps all. All the time. Is Undefeated.
My heart fluttered at thoughts of sun, sand, water, paradise.
My powerade was replaced with Budlight, my hiking shoes with flip flops, my umbrella with a beach mat, and my adrenaline with relaxation. The beauty of Island life...so many different landscapes and weather all in less than a 2 hour drive.
Sandruff.
...the end result when indulging in something you love, only to be constantly reminded and bothered by it later.
After a few Budlights, chilling to pandora, and some great conversation with some great new friends, it was time to venture into the water. Now, those of you that know me, know that it takes me longer to get in the water than it does for paint to dry. A slow, painful process. There's something about immersing my midsection and my shoulders in the water that is just plain torture. Uncomfortable. Uninviting. However, in my short time here, I have successfully cut my time down to 5 minutes to fully submerse myself in the water. Bragging rights? I think so.
After a quick swim, tackling the waves, only to be tossed head over heals and swept a shore, it was time to take this sand-covered, disheveled self back to my beach mat where I belonged. Once again, Mother Nature reminding me who is boss.
Sand in my Hair. Eyes. Ears. Teeth. Fingernails. Toenails. Swimsuit. My body covered. Lips. Hands. Legs. Stomach. Back. Shoulders. The harder I try to rub it off, the more covered I become. Now coming from the Midwest, as far away from sand as one can get, I refuse to complain about sand and beaches coupled with salty, blue water. I will accept them with open arms. But this crunching and exfoliating does tend to tickle a nerve. Especially when it caused my pink Cannon camera take it's last photo ever.
Sip of Budlight. Sand in beer. Crunch. Sand in teeth. I squirmed as my teeth continued to crunch on the sand. Much like fingernails on a chalkboard. Even after a crisp, cold shower on the beach, the sand continued to cling to my scalp much like a toddler clings to her mother. As I sat in the back of the Jeep on the way home in tranquility, that sand continued to linger, multiply. Three days later, as I sit and write this, scratching my head in deep thought, sand appears on my keyboard. Yep, My scalp, my ears, my fingernails are still prisoners of the sand. I wish my purse would cling on to my money like it has those tiny grains of sand. They seem to be a permanent fixture on my belongings. The harder I try to get rid of it, the more that seems to appear.
Sandruff.
...the end result when indulging in something you love, only to be constantly reminded and bothered by it later.
Which brings me to my main point. Sandruff, it's kind of like baggage. We all have it. There's no denying it. Maybe it's something from our past that continues to haunt our present, maybe it's a friend that is more "work" than pleasure, a job that is more dreadful than rewarding, or an ex that is more dangerous than loving. Although we can never really wash it all away with a crisp, cold shower, we can let it fade, dwindle layer by layer...until it loses all color. Almost to the point of disappearing.
I have found in my travels, through the hundreds of people I have met, many of us are running from our past. Some without even knowing it. Trying desperately to forget it. Replace it. Instead of dealing with it. Experiencing it. Feeling it. Letting it go. Letting it Die.
Our past is what makes us who we are. We can't change it; nor should we want to. It's the paint on the canvas of our masterpiece of life. Our words to the pages of our legacies. All part of who we are, All part of what's yet to come.
Sandruff.
...the end result when indulging in something you love, only to be constantly reminded and bothered by it later.
It's what we do with it, that determines our destiny. Nursing has put life into perspective for me in a way I cannot describe. Life is precious. Hang on for the ride. Enjoy every moment. And Never let your past linger or prevent you from all the greatness we are surrounded by.
Maybe it takes quitting that job that makes you more miserable than happy, eliminating that friend that seems to 'take' more than 'give', or maybe picking up the phone and saying a long over-due, "I'm Sorry."
Tonight: Ponder your Sandruff. Whatever it is. Experience it. Feel it. Do what you need to do to: Let it Go. I bet you feel a huge weight lifted off your shoulders.
Sandruff: ...the end result when indulging in something you love, only to be constantly reminded and bothered by it later.
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