When Carlton and I wandered around the country for days on end, I always insisted that we could do anything for five days, then I needed a day off from “having fun.” In pre-Internet days, I’d say I needed to do laundry, get supplies, write postcards, and reorganize. I need that discipline more at 81 than I did at 41, but I tend to forget that reset days are still necessary.
So today was a reset day. Zoom yoga this morning, followed by some serious thinking about what to send home and what to schlep with me on the next phase of this Last Great Adventure, Maybe.
Last Great Adventure, Maybe. That’s how I tagged all the photos from this trip. When I started, I was thinking: “OK. This is it. Last time to spend six weeks in Kona, and last time to head off halfway around the world.”
But the longer I’m away from The Asylum, the more confident I am in my ability to keep going. I’ve already reserved this condo for next winter. Japan might be a different story — medical evacuation insurance will soon be impossible to buy — but we’ll see.
Gratitude
Grateful to Carlton, who insisted I move to The Asylum, where they worry more about me than I do. When I get back, they have to let me in, and I know everything will be “fine.”
Grateful to Billy and Monique. I know they’ll look after me. I don’t want them to need to take care of me, but it’s comforting to know they have my back.
Grateful that my elderly, increasingly unreliable body still makes the bell.
Nobody is Promised Tomorrow.
In Hawai’i, Kīlauea is the realm of Pele, creator, destroyer, and the heart of the islands. When she erupts, it isn’t just geology on display; it’s a reminder that the land is alive and constantly being renewed. People show her deep respect, whether actively erupting or resting quietly beneath the surface. Offerings, prayers, and pūʻolo bundles at the crater honor that presence.
Hawai‘i is more than an Instagram moment.