The Show Must Go On

January 30, 2014

I had a brilliant idea for my Blog this morning and promptly forgot it the moment I pulled my toothbrush out of the bathroom cabinet. Drat!

Like a child, I meet the FedEx driver, imagining $40,000 in cash, a shiny new Mac laptop, Sherpani luggage, a Barefoot demo sweatshirt or cougar in a cage. I jump up and down with enthusiasm upon signing the register, causing the uniform squint at the squiggle and ask me my last name. I squawk back “Hill” and let the “Whoop!” come out from hiding.  

Two and a half hours later, my whoop is whooped, shoveled the 6-8 inches of hefty, powdery snow from the sidewalk and driveway (why build the damn garage so far back from the house, extending the drive into a football field.) The helpful neighbor barreled his shiny yellow tractor up and down the sidewalk, scraping grass, dragging branches, uprooting small trees, and disturbing all nature within a mile from here. His precious snowblower is on the fritz so he got out the bigger power equipment.  

Hankering for hot cocoa, I settle for peppermint tea and yearn for cookies to settle on my plate. Sweet potato chips will have to suffice. Planning the Youth Women Circle curriculum. Bought a new domain name and laying out a Proposal for the Radio Show. In a quandary as to what to call the program. “The Paula Hill Show” is too tired and ordinary. It will focus on issues that instigate self-trust and awareness. Topics such as Heartfelt Living, Humble Forgiveness, Opportunistic Vulnerability, Creating Right Livelihood, Underemployed Power, Spiritual and Financial Prosperity, Transitional Relationship Success, Creative Calm, Loving Altruism, etc. What do you suggest?

The God of All Things

January 29, 2014

I dreamt of God. What does he or she look like? I see a kaleidoscope of images, all of the people who touch my life.

In 1991, while traveling through small villages in the state of Minas Gerais, touring church-after-church in Brasil, at the insistence of my exchange student, Bruno’s mother. His best friend, Guilerme, came along, as well as a chatty friend of the boss, Ana. We finally halted in a small, yet another quaint settlement. As I unfolded from the back seat of the two door sedan, a little girl of roughly five, raced up to me. Her hair, ratted and blonde, lead a streaked face, sparkling eyes, and distinctly firm outstretched hand. In her palm rested the biggest pale crystal I had ever seen. It was ribbed with dirt yet I could detect the intricate detail of smaller offshoots. Before I had the chance to say anything other than “O’brigada,”she was off, running away from me at a canter. I turned to display the shining stone when a much smaller version of the same energy came bolting towards me, flung another brilliant stone in my hand, and barreled off into the large boulders. Same rats nest hair, dingy clothes, dirt-splotched legs, and generosity. “Para voce” was all I could grasp as the little cherub disappeared. An unmistakable touch of grace had me understand God and her trusted kindred spirits are always present.

How does your God appear?

Erupting Day

January 27, 2014

The demand of shark fin soup is decimating the Great White Shark. As I watch from my Omni theatre seat, I feel hopeless and desperate. Unable to shout out my hardened heartfelt sensation of sinking despair, I churn in discomfort. Many times, while snorkeling on the Big Island, Taelor and I had the privilege of swimming above baby sharks. As they softly caressed the sand floor, I admired their graceful agility and power.

One miniscule step at a time, I can calmly educate, share, explore the effects of humans, and possibly shift cultural attitudes. The more I know, the wider my audience will be. Choosing one focus at a time; sexual abuse, saving the shark/elephant/eagle/dolphin/salamander, women’s rights, ecology challenges, or recycling, is pragmatic. Though hard to swallow, at the same time. I want to be able to do it all.

The Great Ring of Fire presentation at the Omni also moved me. I continue to yearn for more time on the Big Island. Though there are so many other areas with volcanoes to explore and expand my explosive repertoire. Frequenting the lava flow viewing, from Kalapana as well as the National Park side, of the spewing Halema'uma'u in Hawaii, I am in awe of the force of nature. Heard the stories from native co-workers about the eruptions and how their families escaped the red hot destruction. The local mayor came to help people, encouraging them to take what they could, loading trucks and boxed furnishings for hours on end, days at a time. A sprig of palm that emerges from the black rock astounds me, out of the fire breathing Pele comes gorgeous life. It reflects the resiliency of the Hawaiians.

My daughter and I spent one brilliant Christmas day on the top of Mauna Kea, looking out over the range, inviting sea of uniquely different ecosystems that astonish me. I reach out to my friends in the tropics, wishing them a grand life, accepting the vog steaming from Kilauea, reveling in the warmth of the native lands, the people and her culture. I will be back one day, Hawaii.

Incoherent Times

January 27, 2014

     Tears stream down her face in the middle of the crowded bar, she swipes at the liquid, careful not to smudge the mascara. This is my third stop of the night, I am accompanied by a friend who doesn’t get out much and the “I’ve had enough” switch is clearly turned “OFF” or carefully ignored, put into the covered, taped-shut box and shoved into the dark recesses under the bed. “I stood on the 10^th Street Bridge,” she continued. The screaming despair, longing, abandonment and grandiose suffering, not knowing what to do with her runaway feelings had me lean  into her body, personal space, and heart. The band continued to play, badly at that, undeniably undanceable music, members unaware of the unfolding, untidy story. I nodded in utter concern for the then 18 year old, who stood on the precipice of messy truth. The world was not going her way, nothing like she had decided it would, forevermore.

    “Let’s go downtown!” clamor her slushy lips. I convince her I have to go home, and relieve the dog. She agrees and I whip up some saga of needing food in my sloshing belly and soon, serve rice and steamed veggies after we gobble bread and cheese, enough for a small village.

     It takes more than a few minutes to boot up my computer since she obsessively needs to search for an old flame on Facebook, to send him an urgent message. Won’t life be so much better with him in it? I cannot fathom an answer. The effort of impatience is too much, so she brushes her teeth, slides into bed, promising to get up early to start another day of adventure together.

Frozen Sculptures

January 26, 2014

The ice sculptures sat, frozen in time, at Rice Park, settled in their dreamy state, incredulous at the audience, drinking cold beer and wine, munching cheese curds and kettle corn while listening to the live band from across the yard. The swordfish scene won my vote, reaching for the frigid sky, flying scaled friends with wings soar below in glorious wonder. An ice fisherman, clunky boot heels grip the unyielding ice, cooler lid pitched open, a small pile of snow scattered around the fishing hole, awaits his catch. The crowd is substantial and encouraging, taking photographs of the art. Tonight, as the snow falls, cascading the images in fluff, the girl sighs in exasperation. Her favorite piece of art is altered. The disappointment more than she can swallow. She turns in frustration, engaging her partner in an argument of wills to support the looming disfigurement.

Naked Ladies

January 25, 2014

A pile of clothes labeled “small” another sits on the table marked “medium” and “large,” “extra large,” “accessories” and “jewelry” situated around the open room. At the sound of the bell, we roam around, toss off shirts and pants to try on various garments to take home for free. The church offered-up the space for the women to celebrate stepping-out of their comfort zone and into someone else’s gently used clothing. We drank wine, shared crackers and cheese, nibbled on miniature cakes and packed up the remaining items to donate to a good cause. Anytime I mention this naked lady endeavor tale with a man, he always claims he wants to be invited the next time. I promise I will keep that in mind.

AT&T Boo Boo

January 22, 2014

When the Collections Agency phones, I must remember to be kind, loving and considerate, as though the representative is my friend. Despite the fact that the company refused to accept an Offer and Compromise, along with a reasonable money order, returned without an explanation, I know they will continue to phone me up until they have what they need. Smiling in an absurd situation has never been my strong suit yet I am willing to work at it for the sake of my daughter and the unfair business practices of AT&T. I have sent copies of our letter to the FCC, BBB and Attorney General’s office to make them aware of the discrepancies of AT&T’s contract. I’m sure they are addressing the issue and it is #1 on their To Do List.