my pet rock

The best question of the day I have seen thus far asked what one thing we have done that we are most proud of, that no one else knows about. I have been thinking on this one for weeks! Finally, during a restless night of half-sleep, the answer came to me.

Please try to follow, this may be quite tangential.

On my second to last trip to Hawaii, I ventured down by the ocean to a shady, Norfolk pine covered lava field to meditate. This area was my favorite meditation spot when I lived on the Big Island and was very much my centering place. I returned there after a harrowing,  booze-soaked, stressful year spent in San Francisco. After resting in my spot, listening to the waves crash against the cliff, the swaying of the pines and smelling salty ocean air waft into my nostrils, I opened my eyes and there before me, was a tiny chunk of lava that said, "I wanna go with you."

Psychically, of course. I mean - lava can't really talk.

Now, as many of you know, it is super taboo to steal the Goddess Pele's children. She is a notoriously acrimonious member of the pantheon and many have incurred her wrath (but not lived to tell about it). Ya just don't do it - no sand, no rocks - nothin'. Think: The Brady Bunch's famous tiki curse episode. It is simply bad mojo.

Still, what was I to do? This little baby rock said, "take me." So I scooped him up, put him in my hoodie pocket and started walking back towards the house. Later that evening, I consulted my friend Jennifer, who is more learned than I on such matters, and she advised, "Sometimes, Pele's children like to take little vacations. You'd have to bring it back eventually but if it wants to go, you should take it with you."

So I did.

On the plane, I was shiftier than a coke smuggler with plastic baggies up my arse. I was sure the aloha police were going to escort me off the vessel at any moment, but when that didn't happen, I convinced myself the plane was going to crash & burn into the sea. Imagine what an asshole I would've been had that happened?

However, I arrived safely back in San Francisco and placed my little friend on the mantel above my fireplace. I was still paranoid that one kama'aina was going to roll up into my pad and bitch me out for this grave affront to Pele. But, that never happened either. Instead, I ended up showing this little baby a rockin' time in San Francisco (absolutely no pun intended).

Over the course of that year, I dropped him in my pocket & took him out dancing with me during raucous all-nighters, drove him to Big Sur and brought him hiking in the redwoods; he even made a roadtrip to Arizona and got to see the Mojave desert! Often, he slept in my palm at night, although sometimes he would ask to stay up and chill on my windowsill during the full moon.

Despite these exciting adventures, I could feel his mana beginning to wane. The longer he spent away from Hawaii, the less kinetic energy emanated from my little hunk of pahoehoe.

On my last visit to Hawaii, I brought him back home.

We walked back to the same spot, where I then sat in meditation for a good hour. At the end, I placed my rock in front of me and covered him with some brush and pine needles. (I figured he would probably like a little protection while he readjusted to life back on the islands.)

I often wonder what happened to my rock after that. Most likely he hooked up with a hot little chunk of a'a and they had a few keiki's. Maybe he tells stories about the Mainland and warns other rocks that it's not worth it to venture so far from the aina? Or maybe he brags about his experiences and acts all tough - pretending he lived in Oakland rather than San Francisco?

I will probably never know what became of my little friend, but I do hope he enjoyed his time on the continent. He certainly helped me through some rough spots and I sure miss him.

However, I am relieved to be without the unremitting paranoia that Pele is preparing to smite me for stealing her baby.