A couple of mornings ago, I left the house to head into the Kauai Beer Co, an unconscious routine grown tired. The sky was an unblemished turquoise and the warmth felt like a loving embrace. Instantly, the plans changed. I pulled the sheet off Flaming Lips, flipped my computer bag over my head, strap crossing my chest. I then tapped the electronic baton, bringing Pandora to the ready, muted until the machine rumbled to life and then roaring, full throated out of the speakers. 

This morning departure felt like a gift, shattering my mindless menu of one foot in front of the other. I rolled down German Hill and headed south to one of my favorite roads, the Kipu Bypass. I got into my biker slouch and a smile gift wrapped my face. I always know when my birthday is coming, primarily because I am not a moron. Thank you, I can remember some basic things and May 29th has always been a time when I am filled with gratitude. I think I’ve been very lucky and the Universe has treated me better than I ever imagined as a kid.

I was rolling along the Kipu Bypass and thinking about what an adventure I have been gifted all these years. This time has always felt like an incredibly personal celebration for me. Honestly, I have no idea why I have been afforded this ride and it is one of the reasons why I have chosen to share myself the way I have with you. Sure, it started out as a way for me to create a tombstone of words for my grandson, but it has grown far beyond. I do this for you, whoever you are and wherever you are. 

Riding on the bike, showing my face to the sun, listening to my music, I thought to myself, how did I manage to make it here? I never imagined this life, at this time, in this place. It felt like the official beginning of my birth celebration, this 76th time. Of course, I was going to write about it, because I have no choice. Writing became my religion around ten years ago and a birthday has never slipped by without being lassoed by the words of that moment.

This birthday euphoria has been drugging me for a number of days this week and the ride was just the beginning. A couple of days later, just this morning, I got on my stationary bike for the ride to nowhere. I cue up my music on the phone and say, “Hey Siri, set my alarm for 30 minutes.” I tap the pause button and the serenade begins, earbuds exploding my brain with the sounds I love.

I was looking out at the landscape that is the majesty of Kauai. If anyone saw me on the bike, or even heard me, I think it would make them very nervous about my state of mind. Half the time, I look like one of those back-up singers, pretending all eyes are on them, embodying the music with all sorts of wild gestures. Born to Run came on and I was the Genie in the Bottle of Bruce. Two-thirds of the way through the anthem, he screams “1-2-3-4.” I stopped my background singer mime, brought my palms together and briefly cried, something I do a lot. Next, one of my favorites, Bruce Hornsby and Just the Way It Is. This song was part of the repertoire that kept me company on my lonesome, cross-country ride from NYC to Santa Fe, NM in ’87. It briefly brought back all those memories. Music modulates my mind and nurtures my soul every day.

A few weeks ago, I started thinking about how incredibly stupid it was for me to be living here and hardly ever going in the ocean. This was before the birthday business invaded my brain, too. I went on line and ordered swim trunks and goggles. I also ordered a silicone swim cap. The cap came in and I had to try it on. I looked and felt like an idiot, plus it was definitely restricting the blood flow to my brain.

It’s funny how the meaning of what feels like an impulsive gesture, can be far more significant than you imagine, a beautiful coincidence. I started thinking about going into the ocean on my birthday, making it a kind of baptism for me. I have been here a little over eighteen years and it was the ocean that drew me here in the first place and yet, I have avoided its embrace. 

I am not one to play any games with you. I am writing this part on Friday, the day before my birthday. Tomorrow, I will live the ritual of the ocean I have thought about for days. Everything I need is sitting on a pile by the door. I can’t wait to share it with you when I get home tomorrow.

Yes, I know for you it is just another paragraph, but try and imagine that a day has gone by and I have experienced something for which I have had no preparation. The next paragraph is as much a mystery to me as it is for you………………………….

I freakin’ did it and I am so glad you waited all this time. I just got back from the north end of Kalapaki Beach. I have really been nervous, thinking about pulling this off. I drove down the hill to the beach. I parked and proceeded to dump water on my head from my brand new container, because my hair cutter told me that you need to pour fresh water on your head before you go in and after you get out. What can I say? I like my hair.

Dripping, I bravely strode down to the beach, walked passed a statue of the Buddha, dropped the towel, kicked off my slippahs, removed my shades and then secured the goggles, suctioned around my eyes. I marched into the ocean like I owned it. I stood for a while, knee deep in the surf, back to the beach, face toward the endless sea. Then, I leaned into the ocean and began to swim. The best part was lying on my back, eyes on the sky, ears under water, muting everything, but my gratitude and my breath.

I am home  I am blessed. 

My podcast: Mind and the Motorcycle

https://www.buzzsprout.com/1292459

Foster and Feinstein on Youtube

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