Sunday Dreamin

Awhile back, when i was a glowing and slightly pregnant young woman, someone asked me with a casual grace i've yet to know in another, "hey nicole, what's your dream?" We stood waiting, in the yard of the Point House, for the best of our crew to assemble on late morning kayak adventure. Beyond the shore stretched Kealakekua Bay, a gleaming teal paradise and pathway to the many Intergalactic that come and go regularly from the Big Island mecca.



Like most spring into summers, those days held dreams sweet and living like celebration at harvest time. The words of my answer came forth with ease, tumbling from my lips as i squinted out from my perch toward the sun-dusted man who would hold open worlds at the birthing of my daughter months later.



"My dream is of a place were people can come to be born and die," i told this man whose spirit held hands with both wisdom and innocence. "A place where the sacredness of land is honored with gardens and food, the sacredness of spirit honored with ceremony, and all beings are held in an eternal radiance of power and play that we so embody in our essence.

Instantly, there came forth in my friend a master of such ceremony. And procuring a rather rounded stone that had danced for some time in the sea, he offered a circle in which we both stood to hold and honor the energy of our dreams.



Holding the warm stone in my hand, i set out to explore further the edges of this vision which had of late come to me. "A place where the energies of cultures from all around the world gather, as peoples from what we know as nations come to celebrate and honor the moving of spirit through such a sacred gate". "Of course there will be dancing and music, preparing feast and drink, sharing of wisdom and experience. I see this as a place of honoring the choice to be alive on such a planet, at such a time".



Paulo Cohelo writes of the "beginners luck" that accompanies one on the path to their personal destiny. As my gaze rose from the stone rolling silently through my hands that morning, the air filled with sea and the gentle and strong face before me spread wide with awe and wonder, was i graced with such luck.



How long we stood, eyes meeting and sweet awe bouncing to and fro between us, i know not. And as we were again joined by the other two of our group, as our circle had once instantly risen, it now fell once again into the breathing of the earth as we transformed into four. Once again on earth time, our tour of the bay filled hours of diving and playing beneath the place where water and air meet. It was to be the beginning to many days of remembering of an old way.



Just Friday past, as my eclectic and desirable restaurant bustled with the exchange of food and money, i found myself again face to face with a man of gentle wisdom. How curious we each were to meet here in the midst of our own private lives, and without forewarning. I somehow managed to spend generally all my time not running food and drinks, speaking with him and on various and generic subjects such as Balinese Alchemist Princesses and BA's in English and Writing.

As his bill lay waiting on the table, i was again asked, "Nicole, what is the vision, the grand plan, i mean there must be a place, obviously..." Though my answer was shaded in tones of a dream almost lost on the ever winding path we each know to be life, this soul whose name i learned not, remained suspicious of the depth he had felt and yet not heard in my answer. And what luck can the suspicion of a "strange" man in a restaurant for tell, perhaps i might learn soon of.

Quite slow and mellow have been the preparations of our coming return to the Big Island. And yet, amidst the many other preparations and ongoings, a magnanimous stirring becomes. For only so long does the sweet hot fire of Pele lie beneath the earth of such paradise before eruption surely ignites all in its presence? What majic and growing await us three as we embark in reunion to the isle of birthing, it will be my pleasure to share*

Aho

nicolitaminominapolis

aLL Things French

It was a ridiculously tiring day in a hot dry Sante Fe that i found both my sweet soul daughter and myself at the mystical whims of a great shamaness. I was currently in the midst of the early throes of my first Saturn return-essentially my life being instantly turned up and over in order to re-align my dreams desires and actions with my hot and juicy life purpose. I'll be honest, it was pure chaos.

The trip had begun on an even hotter day in Sedona, Az with frantic car loading of an assortment of sacred items, wine and general goddessness. Up and out through the slice of paradise, Oak Creek Canyon after a quick and awkward good-bye to the man who had been my lover, confidant and co-collaborator for the past five years. The eight hour drive through a fierce and ancient desert was past with wine and prayer, until finally the lights of the unknown could be seen on the horizon.

Our first night in Sante Fe was promising, nestled into the domain of an earthy philanthropist and healer. I could have been on the east banks of Venus after a four hundred year hiatus, was the mixture of familiarity and strangeness amongst the walls and gardens.

Setting out from the protection of Sante Fe's upper crust neighborhood the next morning i was hopeful to say the least. The sun shown warm, there were quaint and delicious smelling cafes abound through the tight adobe lined streets. Aleia and i had began the morning by wandering the river, throwing stones and looking for bugs whilst i had attempted to comprehend that i would be leaving the nuclear family life i had tried desperately to create with the man i loved.

It was too soon after a hurried mocha and hushed phone calls that i found Aleia and i alone in the center of Sante Fe's famous gallery district, an upscale jogging stroller and general sense of newness our only companions. We dined on designer burritos, Aleia played among gleaming bronze statues and i waited to hear from the consort who was our ride and general guide until my phone, of course, ran out of batteries.

How grateful was i to see the swift grey jetta pull abruptly to the sidewalk in front of us a little before noon. And now, off to the shopping spree! Not without my humanness, not to mention femininity, we had decided to enlist the bohemian assistance of Sante Fe's best second hand clothing store for a bit of retail therapy. I was still rockin a joint bank account.

Soon Aleia and i again found ourselves alone amongst so many foreign streets and stores. We had set out on foot this time, perusing shops and intersections until exhausted we wandered into a sleepy time furniture store. Thankfully, the sweet young family who operated the main controls had chosen a fine line of children's beds and playtoys. Aleia slid down from top bunks on red slides and flew wooden helicopters on low lying play tables. I called friends and breathed deep until no longer i could hold back the streaming tears of my fate unfolding.

Whence the Merliness had again managed to find the two of us, Aleia and i were in no shape but to be home, and in the comforts of things that no longer existed. Sensing the depth of our unwinding, we were driven out, after many lengthy phone calls, to the wilds of Tesuque. A village shaped by the peoples of the pueblo many lifetimes before cable television, and built upon by an assortment of wild west characters and movie stars who cared to have a quiet moment with the earth and stars, Tesuque could not have been more perfect had it been delivered from the hands of an angel.

The phenomenally radiant woman, whose heart had said yes to our coming, met us close to the bottom of the winding washed out desert road she called home. After brief words exchanged she was off again to pick up the brilliant and quite autistic son who also ruled her roost.

At the top of the hill, as the arroyo stretched out for hundreds of miles finally colliding with the blue-tipped mountains, perched the home that was to be ours for the next seventy-two hours. A sprawling expanse of wings and rooms, artist coves and kitchen stood sentry on a mound of sacred earth that was to prove a portal for inter and intra personal discovery.

Complete with sweat lodge, hot tub, gardens and trampoline, both Aleia and i were satisfied immediately. The exquisite and continuously reborn french model and visionary mother who resided as stewardess was only the 'we love you tremendously' to our tour de Sante fE. What lie inside the walls of that home can only be described as a masterpiece of provincial design.

Apart from the young struggling master, this was a home of the goddess. Men were permitted to enter in prayer, for life and love of the sacred feminine. Mornings were quiet and slow, walks abound, and the evenings after wine and prayer were capped by visits with powerful and curious beings from beyond earth. The stars spoke from above while hearts sung visions in the safety of acceptance.

How to spread gratitude for such an existence, except by acknowledgement of moments where humans come together in raw breathing of ceremony, both high and low, under w i d e open skies and the healing of sacred birthing and majic mineral springs.

to the echos of Paris across the Atlantic, sweet white french wines, and spouses that help me attain great wealth-bless.
n