I Wish

"I think that I shall never see
a poem as lovely as a tree."- Trees by Joyce Kilmer

Last night we watched a movie, munched on grapes, blueberries and pistachio nuts.

The night before was a night of big wind and blowing rain. Pete had just finished sanding one side of the vardo. We knew there was a storm coming, scanning the weather on an iphone is one of the ways to keep track, and the other source of forecasting came when we were out beach walking. "Big wind coming tomorrow," the old codger neighbor guy said on his way to the low tide line. "Up to twenty miles." He was on a mission to net crabs but had enough neighborliness to share the weather.

Earlier in the day, while Pete sanded, I drove down to the beach parking lot to avoid the sand dust and read my book. Just as I was settling in, and after I set up the handwritten sign 'Guests of the Ashfords' a man with ear protection, a sweaty tee shirt and been-at-work blue jeans circled the Subaru. I went on alert. He'd not yet seen the bright yellow sign on my dashboard, but as he kept walking and investigating, I knew I was under surveillance. This was the caretaker for the community, and I 'ought not be here without a resident.' This is a gated community, and the guy "Don't make the rules." But he was there to make me uncomfortable about breaking 'em. He was doing his job.

"...Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree."

There is an ironic twist to the experiences I keep spiraling round to, like this beach walking, privacy and privilege scenario. I've been there before. Decades ago and in a galaxy not that far away (just across the water and up the high banks of Mukilteo) I lived in a home in a community which reckoned ownership to a beach; and surveillance? That was part of the package, and geez did I have problems with the enforcement of those rules. It embarrasses me to recognize the foibles of rule making and rule makers. But perhaps that's the Universe, the Gods asking, "Play like me, can you make a tree?"

Touche, Akua. I can not.

What I love about the spiral path is the potential to learn something unexpected after the embarrassment. I cannot make a tree, but there are miracles possible anyway. So back to last night, and the grapes, blueberries, pistachios and movie. I Wish is a beautifully child-focused film directed by "the Japanese master Hirokazu Kore-eda, who is as gentle and wise as any director now working" wrote Roger Ebert. 

We are preparing to move, and though this move has less of the stressors of other moves, there is the unpredictability and the foibles of past experiences with people just doing their jobs. And what is really very cool is the Universe and the Gods are at their jobs as well. They put I Wish into Pete's large working man's hands, and we were realigned.  The heART of this film was innocent, child-like and we got to spend time with two brothers (actors who are real-life brothers) orchestrating miracles: making wishes!

The thing I love and appreciate about a film, besides great acting is the directing. If given a light touch, such as Hirokazu Kore-eda's an experience with time, place and  people feels like sharing in life. A light footprint. A kind and open-handed love. In the time we sat together, on a futon, in a small golden wagon eating fruits and nuts the jangle of rules lessened the constricting hold on me.

 "For many years this kind of heroic effort -- essential to learn to cooperate with strangers -- has been calling to modern people. I've wondered, watching economically powerful nations scrambling in the world's remote corners for the last large deposits of copper, iron, bauxite, and other ores, or reading about the failure of the once-dependable ocean fisheries, or about cynical corporate maneuvering to secure the last reservoirs of potable water, whether an unprecedented openness to other ways of understanding this disaster is not, today, humanity's only lifeline. Whether cooperation with strangers is not now our Grail." - a quote from Barry Lopez, on Myth & Moor ' On Listening to stories other than your own," by Terri Windling

Oh yes, to engage in that kind of heroic effort. That's my wish.

What is your fondest wish? I would love to know, if it's something you can share. And I also highly recommend sitting to eat blueberries, grapes and pistachios (or your favorite snack) while watching I Wish. After watching this film, the Universe nudged me with this idea: instead of simply repainting the wagon wall, create a mural (or use things other than milk paint) to make a kind of Wishing Wall.

We like the sound of that, and maybe you'd like to contribute by sending us your fondest wish to be written, or depicted on our Wishing Wall?

If this post inspires you to wish, or makes you think about how cooperation with strangers might indeed be 'our Grail' consider sending me a Tip. And, if you're intrigued by being involved in making our Golden Wagon's Wall a cooperative creation? Send your ideas, or your wish, along to us: leave it in the Comments, or email me mokihanacalizarATgmailDOTcom.


E Ola Mau Mauli
Power to Us People!

Mahalo nui,
Mokihana