If this were a project, which I think it has been from the start, it would begin with a question of whether or not, followed by a question of endurance. The first question asked whether or not I could actually leave home. The second question is for how long.
During my new teacher orientation, the Head of School spoke of culture shock in four stages. In a nutshell, they are 1) the honeymoon stage, 2) the what-have-I-done stage, and 3) settling into normal life. Stage four was effectively skipped, but I’d call stage four decision time. The lines between these stages are so blurred, and at any given moment, I feel all four of them.
The first stage is glorious. When I would drive down Honoapi’ilani, makai to my right, mist-covered Mauna Kahalawai to my left, I’d smile in my car and say, “Holy crap I live here!” Swimming with fish and turtles after work and standing at the edge of cliffs overlooking the ocean, a feeling of amazement arises. Feeling the warm sun on my skin instead of the increasing jolt of the sharp cold – this is stage one. Apparently, some people get lost in it.
Stage two occurs when I look at my situation beyond the tunnel vision of stage one. It wrinkles the bigger picture, and I try to iron them out. This stage manifests itself like a cramp or indigestion. It’s unpleasant, I know the cause, and I know how to fix it. It’s painful, but not unbearable. It shows up when I dream about my family, which was often at first, then after a few weeks of absence, the dreams have started again, and I wake up in the middle of the night unable to fall back asleep. It shows up when I’m having a good time at the beach, and I see a kid who looks like my godson. It happens when I’m dining alone, and a few tables over, a group of 20-something Filipinos are hanging out laughing and catching up like I did with the Whistler Crew. It happens when I talk to my family and friends back home, and it happens when I don’t talk to my family and friends back home, so I end up going with the option that keeps me connected. It happens when I try to make new friends, but get too impatient and picky. I hate stage two. It’s a riptide pulling my subconscious, dragging me to unknown territory, making me panic, and forcing me to grow. Which is exactly what I asked for.
Stage three hasn’t made an appearance yet. Two months from the move doesn’t seem like enough time for normalcy to settle, though sometimes, I’m deceived by routine. Plenty of firsts remain to experience, so normal life patterns aren’t even established yet. I’ll let you know when I get there.
As for stage four, if you asked me today, yes, I would want to come home, but if a one way ticket were in front of me, I would decline. This experience is an investment of time, which, to me, is more important than money, especially when it’s a significant amount of time away from family and friends. But like I wrote before, I’ve invested in myself, hoping to find out more about life outside my Seattle bubble, hoping to find out more about who I am and what I’m capable of. And the ultimate hope is still the same: that I return home a better man.
Some Key Learnings
- I’ve grown in my connection to nature, extending on all the hikes and reflection I did in the PNW.
- It is hard to manage waste here (garbage, recyclables, compost).
- Cake noodles of the Hing Loon variety are hard to find, but if you take the noodles at Ono Kau Kau (Honokowai) and mix it with the minute chicken from Lee Ho Fook (Honolulu)… yeah it’s still not as good.
- I’m learning more about patterns of human claim over land. People are opportunistic. People are spiritual. People are unwilling to share because of greed, and are greedy because they want more or too much has been taken away in the first place.
- Local Boyz > Ululani. But Monster Ice is unparalleled.
- I need to live on Hawai’i Island at some point in my life. Perhaps when I stop teaching and write full time. And I’m gonna need some good company.
- Water diversion, microplastics, alternative energy, cultural awareness, poverty, pollution, ridiculous wealth… too much to think about.
- I’ll say this about my friends: yall are the most loving, selfless, easygoing people. I can’t wait to see you.
- I talk to my parents (okay, mainly Mama) everyday. You can move a mama’s boy thousands of miles away, but that don’t change a thing! Seriously, my whole fam, Mom, Dad, Mario, Aims and Miggybear have been there for me since I made the decision to move to Maui. I talk my mom’s ear off, and listen to her just to hear her voice. I know how priceless it is to hear the voices of the ones you love.
That’s all for now.
Love/Aloha,
Jace
