Papaya and Ampalaya: Life Tales of the Bitter and Sweet

Sometimes life gives you sweet--just like papaya. Sometimes life gives you bitter--just like ampalaya. At least that is the harvest wisdom that was generously shared in Wai'anae on the Hoku moon last night with Puanani Burgess, Ho'ipo DeCambra, Lucy Gay, Karen Young, and Karen Yamamoto Hackler.

I've been very fortunate to have this opportunity to join these amazing sisters. And I'm deeply grateful to reflect on my own life tales and to share one or two of them in an upcoming benefit storytelling performance for the Hawaii Women's Fund coming up at the end of this month. I am just beginning to "try" on the name of writer, playwright, and performer. And as transitions go, I am sitting here wondering how this all really fits with life and if I can take the bitter that comes with the sweet.

For so long, I've often been comfortable behind the scenes in community organizing, capacity building, and production. A certain amount of power comes from such a role in directing behind the scenes to make events happen. A surge of self-efficacy and ability to impact the world is very gratifying. And then, there is of course, the tremendous responsibility that I am afraid I have not always upheld well or paid too dear a price for. On good days, I see it as service and the necessary sacrifice of leadership. On bad days when my shadow rears, I see it as my martyr ego that enjoys the torture from a soul numbing bureaucracy.

However, I am beginning to slowly savor this new kind of vulnerability that comes with leaving an old life behind. It is a leading from my insides- that comes with being naked with my truth, a laying wide open to the holy muse that will move and consume me. Now that I no longer have a traditional job, or no longer belong to particular non-profit shop or outfit, I feel freer to plant my own dreams and expose the weeds that need pulling from own garden. I know that in showing how I work the soil in myself, I automatically send a vibration that will liberate others to be their authentic selves.

This morning, after Paul and Malaya go off to school, I walk to my backyard.
I admire our herb garden which is now overgrown. I take in the lemongrass, rosemary, basil and sage and look at the papaya tree that my mother-in-law and father-in-law planted. I say thank you in my mind for their foresight in giving us plants that serve as natural medicine. I say thank you for providing fruit baring tree that feed us. I sigh, for not having given it attention till now. I get the fruit picker and see the two ripe deep yellow papayas calling, waiting to be eaten.

I tug and pull and watch the sap of the juices drip down. I sense the quickening of the fruit loosening from the tree and hear the audible snap that sends the fruit tumbling down to me on the ground. I also collect a few of the green ones. I gather them and inhale. Eyes open, I admire the smooth/rough texture underneath my hand. Eyes closed, I deeply breath in the soil and the toil that brought me here. Inside, I partake of this ripe jewel. I taste the sun that went into its liquid sweetness. My shoulders, ease and relax, and I smile- deeply satiated and satisfied.