Healing Waters

4.26.2011

(Written several weeks ago on my flight back to Hawaii.)

Cruising altitude.

We have been chasing the sun West across the Pacific and I just witnessed the kind of glorious sunset that brings tears to your eyes. I feel as though it was meant for me alone, because everyone on the plane has their window shades closed. I am reflective and thankful in this moment, even for the illness that plagued my body for the last three weeks, while on vacation. It was a reminder that things do not always go according to plan, and how we respond to those situations is what is important. I am grateful for a moment of pause, for quality time spent with my parents, and for the chance to sit cozily by the fire and watch the soothing rain fall outside my Pacific Northwest home.

I return now to the little speck of land in the middle of the Pacific that I have called home for over two years now. I have an overwhelming sense of peace returning to my island home. More than ever, I know Hawaii is exactly where I am supposed to be right now.

That was all I wrote, but I am reminded of when I first moved to Hawaii and I wrote in my journal on the plane. I recall a similar feeling of calm, despite the fact that I had just picked up my life and decided to move to Hawaii. I wrote that I was a bundle of emotions, but that I was not scared or nervous. The move felt right. I still feel that way; that I was meant to come here. My connection to Hawaii is strong. I’ll never forget the flight attendant saying, “Aloha, enjoy your visit to Hawaii. If this is home for you, welcome home.” It became my home that day, and even on my recent flight, two years later, seeing the lights of Honolulu made me smile.

As we began to make our descent, with about an hour left in the flight, I began to chat with the gentleman, named Ken, seated next to me. He asked if Hawaii was home for me and we talked about our love for the islands. When I inquired if he was on vacation, he replied, “Well…sort of.” He went on to tell me that his wife grew up on Oahu and they planned this trip awhile back. Two weeks prior to their departure, she was killed by a drunk driver on her way to work. For the next hour, my heart broke for this man, as he told me about his beloved wife and their life together. They met in Seattle and both loved the ocean and were avid kayakers, surfers and paddleboarders. They loved to pack up the car on the weekends and head out without a destination necessarily, but with a desire for adventure. One day, they discovered Crescent Bay, outside of Seattle, where they eventually bought a house. “We fell in love with that Bay,” he told me, “We left the city and never looked back. It’s way out in the sticks but there is nowhere like it.”

I listened to Ken’s story and admired his strength in such a difficult time. I struggled for words. What do you say to someone who has just lost the love of his life? His wife, partner, best friend, fellow adventurer is gone forever. My heart was heavy.

I began to tell Ken about a discovery I had while I was home. I’m not sure why I told him this in that moment, but I did because it came to me. I was reading up on a ship that my Grandfather used to own on Vancouver Island. My father and his brother worked on the ship for many years. The ship is called the Uchuck III, and it is still in service today, transporting passengers down Nootka Sound on adventure trips and tours. Many people load their kayaks onto the ship to explore the outer coastal areas; lands full of rich history and natural wonders. My Grandfather passed away before I was born, so in honor of him, one day I will take a tour aboard the Uchuck and travel the waters that he once did. I have known about the Uchuck since I was a little girl, however, it was not until my recent readings that I discovered “Uchuck” means “Healing Waters” in First Nations Nootkan language. I believe strongly in the healing power of the ocean.

There are no coincidences. I learned that fact when I was supposed to, when the timing was right. Right before I met Ken. Right when I thought I had no words to say.

As the plane landed, I told Ken that the waters would heal him, that his wife will always be with him and that her spirit and their connection are intrinsically tied to the ocean. We said goodbye.

Sometimes a stranger can deeply affect your life, in an instant. I will never forget that plane ride with Ken. I hugged my boyfriend tight with tears in my eyes when he greeted me with the most beautiful lei. “Do you mind if I give this to someone?” I asked him. “No,” he responded, no questions needed or asked.

I spotted Ken a few yards away just as he was about to load his surfboard onto a family member’s car. I placed the lei around his neck and we hugged. I told him to enjoy the warm Hawaiian waters.

In memory of Ken’s wife, Ellen