A Place of Refuge

[Originally published March 1st, 2022 via the Mercury on the Run newsletter]

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

And when the brokenhearted people living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be

And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me
Shinin' until tomorrow, let it be
I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

-Paul McCartney

This song came to me toward the end of a day last week in which I simply could not get out of my head. I had been reflecting on my life and everything that lead me to where I am now. I thought about the things I got right and the things I got wrong, then mostly zeroed in on the things I got wrong and tried to think of every possible way I could fix them.

I wrote last week about my mixed feelings after having a great run at the Hagg Lake 50K. I had similarly mixed feelings as I stepped on an airplane for a planned visit with my Aunt Meiko in Hawaii, along the lines of "I don't deserve this," or "How frivolous am I?" In a way I felt a sort of shame or embarrassment for doing something nice without a noble justification behind it.

After the five and a half hour flight from San Francisco, I emerged from the dry, stuffy airplane into the warm, humid, and breezy night on the island of Hawai'i. I felt an instant sense of calm and knew this would be a special trip. Meiko met me with a big embrace at arrivals and swept me back to her home.

The next morning before dawn, I woke up to bird songs. While I'm not accustomed to that in my city-dwelling everyday life, it stirred up memories from being on the Appalachian Trail in the wee hours of the morning in total darkness, and knowing daylight was near when the birds started chirping. As I sipped some coffee, the early morning light illuminated the ocean beyond, and I finally got to take in my surroundings and appreciate where we were.

Over the next several days, Meiko, being the wonderful host that she was, took me all over the Big Island. We hiked the Kilauea Iki crater in Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park; indulged in local seafood, guava-filled malasadas (Portuguese fried sweet dough- yum!), Kona coffee, and rum cakes; and attempted snorkeling. Meiko, expert snorkeler, graciously walked me through exactly what to do and how to do it, but I chickened out due to my not-totally-irrational fear of large bodies of water. We also got to spend time just catching up and talking. We had been meaning to get together since last summer following all of my recent life changes. I confessed with her some of my mixed feelings on taking a true vacation, and shared some personal things that were heavy on my heart and mind. I disliked carrying emotional weight with me onto a trip that was supposed to fun, but I also couldn't deny or hide that it was there.

Following the snorkeling misadventure, we visited a historic spiritual sanctuary known as Pu'uhonua o Honaunau, also known as the Place of Refuge. In ancient Hawai'i, certain people, places, things, and times were sacred. They were kapu, or forbidden. Any breaking of kapu disturbed the stability of society, and the punishment was often death. Any fugitive who had broken kapu could seek refuge or forgiveness within the walls of the Pu'uhonua, and their life was spared. Walking the peaceful grounds filled with numerous palm trees, ponds, and situated around a gentle bay, it was easy to understand how it came to be a sacred place.

The next day we visited the Paleaku Gardens Peace Sanctuary, a botanical garden filled with numerous plants and trees endemic to Hawai'i, as well as from countries worldwide, along with multi-denominational statues and shrines to honor many of the world's cultural and spiritual traditions. Once again, I found myself in a peaceful and serene setting, but I found my mind running a million miles a minute, distressed about my own personal issues and aware of the invasion of Ukraine happening simultaneously on the other side of the world. Throughout parts of the garden were scrolls with quotes and poems, including one from the Dalai Lama that particularly spoke to me:

No matter what is going on
Never give up
Develop the heart
Too much energy in your country
is spent developing the mind
instead of the heart
Develop the heart
Be compassionate
Not just to your friends
but to everyone
Be compassionate
Work for peace
in your heart and in the world
Work for Peace
And I say it again
Never give up
No matter what is happening
No matter what is going on
around you
Never give up

On Saturday we made a day trip to Mauna Kea, a massive dormant volcano with the highest peak in the state of Hawai'i at 13,803ft above sea level. To get there, we drove from the coast up and up through the vast, dry, and almost desert-like landscape until we reached the visitor center at the elevation of 9,000ft. I planned to run and hike 4.5 miles up a trail from the visitor center, and Meiko planned to drive further up the road then hike in to meet me at Lake Waiau, a small lake close to the summit. We shared our plans with the park ranger stationed at the road, Ranger Mark. He gave us advice on how to avoid altitude sickness (including spending 30 minutes at the visitor center to acclimate), along with advice to take plenty of water, warm layers since the weather could change unexpectedly and rapidly, and medicine in case I got a headache. He told us they made frequent rescues because people underestimate how difficult the hike is.

While on the one hand I had the thought, "Well I'm an experienced hiker, that won't happen to me!" I was also aware that hiking up a mountain of that magnitude was way out of my realm. The trails I frequent in Portland barely reach 1,000ft above sea level and the highest point of the Appalachian Trail, Clingman's Dome, is 6,643ft. With all due respect to my favorite Oregon trails and the ancient Appalachians, this was one serious mountain. I took Ranger Mark's advice seriously, and even though I hadn't planned to, I took a backpack with water, extra strength Tylenol, layers, sunscreen, anti-chafe balm, and my cell phone. It's probably the most prepared I'd ever been for a 4.5 mile excursion.

Meiko and I wished each other good luck and I began jogging down the road to where the trail began. As soon as I started up the steep, rocky, and exposed trail, my breathing became heavy and labored in the thin air. I shuffle-jogged my way up the trail for a bit, but eventually settled for a steady power hike instead. The rangers said I was their first hiker for the day, so I literally had the trail all to myself. The path went relentlessly upward, and every so often I peeked behind me to see the visible progress I had made. Volcanic cinder cones came in and out of view, the visitor center eventually disappeared, and I was at eye level with many of the other surrounding volcanoes off in the distance.

Experiencing a totally new environment, seeing what was around the next bend, and delighting in how swiftly I could move over the terrain put me right into my happy place. I thought of how I wanted my life in the future to look, and of course the pleasure center of my brain told me, "More of this! More of this!" Then, somehow, thinking of the future turned into reflecting on the past, and the little high I was experiencing crashed down into a low, and once again I found myself replaying unpleasant events, conversations, and situations over and over again in my head. I continued trudging upward, the air becoming thinner, the wind becoming stronger, and knowing no one was around to see or hear I just let the tears stream out. I racked my brain with every solution, explanation, comeback, or protestation I could think of. In my fired up state, I increased my pace and started rage-hiking until I started seeing stars (hello, lack of oxygen) and was forced to stop and catch my breath. I let out one last cry of frustration, sniffed, and hiked on in silence.

A mile or two later, I crested a saddle in the mountain and could finally see Lake Waiau down below, and standing right before it was Meiko. Not wanting to shout at a sacred site, we excitedly waved at each other from afar, and I shuffled my way down to meet her. We sat down to rest and exchanged stories about our hikes over salted mixed nuts and Haribo watermelon candies. We had also both successfully not gotten sick from the altitude!

From there, we planned to meet at or near the summit, another couple miles up. I would go by foot, and Meiko would hike back to her car, then drive up to the observatory parking lot to meet me. We had initially read that it wasn't allowed, or at least frowned upon, to hike to the true summit of Mauna Kea. The five volcanoes of Hawai'i are revered as sacred mountains; and Mauna Kea's summit, the highest, is the most sacred. Ranger Mark told us, however, that since we were hiking, we had "earned" our permission to continue on to the summit.

With that I had planned to continue on. I hiked the remaining bit of trail to the road, then continued walking uphill until the summit came into view from a lookout on the road. Partially covered in snow and sloping to a gentle peak, it was a beautiful and majestic sight. I could feel and tell that it was a special place. I saw where the trail continued on from the road, but was stopped short by a sign: Aloha. Maunakea is historically, culturally and environmentally significant. Help preserve our culture and natural landscape and show your respect by not hiking beyond this point to the summit. I looked beyond the sign and saw numerous hikers making their way up the spine of the mountain. This gave me pause, so I took a photo of the summit from where I was, and waited for Meiko to arrive.

After some discussion, we came to a mutual decision to end our hike there, even though we were technically allowed to go on. We felt enriched by the experience we already had and didn't want to continue on just for the sake of it, all things considered. Perhaps the moment could be saved for a spiritual or significant personal reason for doing so down the line. We took in and appreciated the summit from a distance, then began the long, windy drive back down.

On my last day in Hawai'i, I woke up feeling troubled yet again. When would it end? Meiko and I had planned a low key morning, which I was going to spend writing a new post for this newsletter. I couldn't concentrate at all, however, and instead spent nearly five hours writing exactly and meticulously every single thing I wanted to say to someone that would never read it. The reason being, after reading the gargantuan letter several times over, I promptly deleted it–permanently. I realized it wouldn't have been helpful in any way, nor would it have ultimately changed anything. I said what I needed to say, but it turned out to be for my own eyes and my own peace more than anything else. It was then that the phrase (and song lyric) "Let it be" popped into my head and stuck there for a while.

I went out for one last hike along the rocky coast for the sake of moving and decompressing. The negative thoughts that had been clouding my head seemed to be floating away and dissipating. I made a phone call and found myself laughing and smiling by the end. I felt as if I had slayed a dragon or defeated a final boss in a video game. I recognize that it's fully possible the bad stuff could worm it's way back into my head at any moment, perhaps even a day, month, or year from now, but maybe the key is finding a healthy way to release it somehow. Movement helps, writing helps, and quality time with loved ones is key.

Meiko and I spent the rest of the day prepping dinner, conquering our fears of using the gas grill to cook up some Ahi Ahi and veggies (which turned out fantastic), and just talking for hours. Somehow this visit came at exactly the right time. If I could describe it in just a few words: calm, peaceful, restorative. Meiko drove me back to the airport, I stepped into the warm, humid, breezy air under the night sky once more, and we gave each other a huge hug aloha, or goodbye, until the next time.

💫

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