Day 11:
I indulged in two shrimp tacos and a strawberry lemonade today in my new favorite Hawaiian restaurant, North Shore Tacos! There, I also engaged in an interesting conversation with a sailer who spends his time onboard submarines. He'd been stationed at Pearl Harbor for the last five years. He was eager to tell me all about it. The part where he said that he'd spent two months under the surface had me thinking about joining the Air Force! Have I already said that?? Goodness. Love you dad! But you know I'm not partial to the water. Particularly being underneath it! You remember my baptism?? Yeah, I do too!
I might get slapped by Hawaii buffs once I admit this but I haven't even been for a swim yet. I don't even have trunks. I walked along the beach barefoot while the sun set. That's probably all that is going to happen between me and that ocean too. I'm holding my ground perfectly fine on this one, thank you very much!
Anyway, from tacos I went to go see the Martian. Ha! Yes I was given a hard time for attempting to see a movie while in Hawaii too. It wasn't playing at any convenient times. I tried yesterday for it as well. I guess I'll just have to wait till I get home.
All of that is ok, because in a more appropriate manner I went and visited the Byodo-In Temple in the Valley of the Temples Memorial Park.
"Awe" isn't the right word for how I felt as I walked the grounds and entered the temple, but I just can't quite place it. Imagine this: not quite somber but almost, just a touch of tranquil, chalky almost deep blue but not deep deep, wavy blue with texture like that of a painted ceiling, and a hint of peace. Just a hint of peace though, a hint of melancholic-peace to be more precise, as opposed to happy peace, or even puppy-love peace. But not not actual peace. Whatever it was, it was palpable and different than the air just outside the park, and my attempts to describe it I feel have failed.
I walked up the steps and took my shoes off before entering, as the sign requested I do. As I walked inside, the statue of a giant golden Buddha sat in the center of the room in the lotus position. It was intense. On either side of him were six, disciples? angels? I'm not sure but there were twelve all together and one directly above his head, making thirteen, fourteen including Buddha. About eye-level on the walls surrounding Buddha there were symbols that represented mostly, what I think were sects of Indian religions, but to the left of him and two over, there was the Christian cross. Maybe the most interesting thing about the room, something that I almost missed and subsequently wondered how many people completely overlook, were the small round mirrors on the ceiling. They were barely noticeable, but you could align your body just perfectly with one of them, look straight up and see your reflection. You could only see your face though, they were that small.
With no particular thoughts to send on the wind, I lit an incense candle and placed it in the bowl of sand in front of The Buddha. The smoke twisted and snaked its way through that blue, a hint of tranquil, chalky, not not peaceful air.
I left trying to figure out that feel. It really is a nice feeling, one that my melancholic heart was aching over, but it was odd. I think the only reason I feel it to be odd though is that it almost resembles the feeling inside the LDS temples, but not quite.
Anyway, after leaving the Valley of the Temples Memorial Park I made the hour trek toward Sunset Beach. I made it just in time. The waves crashing against the black rocks, the single palm tree leaning in over the rocky shore in the distance, the centerpiece, being the sun blessing a host of people, including myself, as it said its goodbye, was all so wonderful. There were some with cameras steadily drawn on the scene, some trying to get the perfect profile pic, some paying little attention, others were kissing and holding hands, and others just watched. I took a few pics and than watched the sun in its precision, its ever constant path, disappear behind an intersecting point where the power of crashing waves met with the ever immovable, rugged rocks. It was a meeting of three symbols of which the mind can't help but acknowledge as such, of which the eye can't help but gaze longingly for, of which the soul couldn't help but love. But in a moment the centerpiece was gone, leaving then, in its absence, I felt were merely a clashing of two headstrong siblings. Powerful, and Immovable going at it for all eternity only finding purpose and direction every evening with vivid remembrance in the light of the sun.
...
It was the difference between feeling the good things of the past, things that have passed away, the ancients, and feeling the beauty of the present and embracing what is had now. That's what it was. It was old love.
