10-02-12
Dad drops me off in the outskirts of the Tenderloin at the Bart Station hours early for my flight. Just the way I like it. We say our Good byes. Aloha. Its never really forever.
I am slightly scared to be walking into the station. Could I run if I needed too with this pack on? Then I see the uselessness in worry. Death can come at any moment. If I have learned one thing about myself it's that my fears stem from, A- fearing fear its self. Duh. But there is also the unwillingness to look my own darkness in the eye. And then, B- the actual act of being killed. I have allowed this to hold me back in many pasts and futures. Now, being able to connect to more overlaying aspects of me, I see that parts of me are dying now. Are dead. But, the way I see it, the deceased never ceased to exist. Death is something that can come at any moment. Bam! Pow! Releasing my fear of it I find my self in the beautiful neutrality of the moment. That's what I learned the first time living on an active volcano in the middle of the pacific ocean sitting under fully loaded coconut trees ready to fall on your head and kill you. Serves you right for not harvesting the bounty of your mother!
Reminding myself of the "Wabi Sabi" the "beauty in the imperfections." The constant duality of light and dark calmed my nerves and lightened my pack as I walked down the stairs. The lights of the Bart station activate a buzzing in my head that reminds me of the many halls I have seen in my dreams. Brightly lit underground tunnels, winding this way and that. Beings from all walks of life carrying out intentions. Where these lights installed by "them" with the intention to activate fear receptors in my brain? Oh, yes. I forgot. I installed these lights to trigger me. I like to scare me, to remind me to make another choice.
I walk up to the ticket machine. I touch and poke the screen to find its not wired in that way. Oh. Buttons. I see now. I fumble with my plastic bank card. It does not read. I opt to feed the machine with my American Human Experience Federal Reserve Note game tokens. She is hungry and takes them.
I stare at the screen, still not sure of how to communicate with this mechanics to get my desired out come. I wish that there was a human I could buy a ticket from. Like in my old movies, the jolly man in a tipped hat behind a marble counter in a beautiful sparkling train station. I navigate the machine and receive my ticket.
Walk down the stairs and to the appropriate side of the platform. There are friendly human eyes to greet me. Others on their way to work, one girl with a suitcase, she is most likely on her way to the airport too. The train arrives only seconds later. I enter into the middle car. Instantly the harshness of the ugly plain greyish walls of the train give me a headache.
Amazing how sensitive I am to color and light. If this was my train I would paint it a cheery golden yellow. My seats would be a bold yet comforting maroon red. On the bench my black backpack turns into a cluster of pillows in various shades of green and blue. This is my train. I hang crystal beaded curtains from the overhead poles and position my newly installed soft light to hit them at just the right angle, creating rainbows on the walls. Ahh.. that's better. I am now In my world of fantasy and Imagination. The Real World. I notice how tired and sad all the other passengers look. Maybe that's just it. They are passengers, along for the ride. Going through dark tunnels of another's creation. Or that is the belief they are in, that some one else made it and they can not change it. They are in my eyes, creating the creation of not being "able" to create.
A thought comes into my head that I might not make it to the airport. What if the train brakes down and we are stuck in this experience? Then we would have to talk to each other. That would be beautiful. Maybe we would be there for so many hours we would need to start sharing food, huddled around sharing our souls when we've given up hope a third of the way through the movie. Talking about what we wanted to be as kids when we grew up, and how after we leave this train we will all start living our dreams. And then suddenly there is a rush of energy and motivation to live while we are alive! Then, the combined realization of our power starts the train again! What will be will be. I would not reject that type of experience! Ha! At all!
But the train keeps moving and we all keep staring in our respectful zones, working carefully not to look at each other or speak.
I am lulled by the reflections on the widows as we rise above ground. Inside lights reflecting on the glass, melding with the outside lights. The image of my physical form rests atop. Layers of light and information criss-crossing to the point of undefinable origin. My golden yellow paint fades on the train walls, the nest of pillows returns to my black back-pack. I take back my crystal curtains and the rainbows of my spirit. Back in the neutral plain train. I feel so at home when my external reality takes on the layers of symbolism of the blueprint. I am getting better every day at creating my home in any reality.
I wake up from my reverie and realise I am further south, at the end of the line and have missed my spot at SFO. How did that happen?? The train announces it will now become a San Francisco bound train.
Will follow the tracks it just made. I am confused and get off the train. I turn around in circles for a minute, looking for a sign to point me the right way. Then I remember I create the signs and I like to make things confusing for myself so I have to continue to ask questions. The next human eyes I meet belong to a vivacious looking black lady with bright green nails. Oh, your awake in the early hours of the morn too! I see you human! I ask her what train do I need to take to get to SFO? Somehow I missed that stop.
"Oh, Nah, you dinn' miss it. This train doesn't stop there. Not at this time of day. You have to transfer at San Bruno. Get back on this train when dey open. They are switching drivers now.. ya know"
The glint in her eyes as she says " switching drivers now" makes me smile. I cant help but see double meaning in everything these days. We are all switching drivers now in our own ways. Conducting our trains. I'm not sure if she is just talking about this Bart train or if she is implying what i think she is. Her smirk helps me to choose it is the later. I then infuse the belief that she is conscious co-creater. I was unaware to change at San Bruno so I could meet this woman to remind me of the beautiful orchestration of independent conductors passing on their tracks turning solos into duets. The moment I insert this belief she is off chatting with another person. Asking a bright blonde lady with an acrylic french manicure why she thinks the trains run at different schedules at different times. As the doors of the train open she tells me to get off at the next stop and my train will come on the other side of the platform.
"Enjoy the trip" she winks at me as she enters through the train doors and into the next compartment.
"Thank you. Always do. You as well." I politely nod to her as I stay in my compartment.
"Oh! You know it!" and she is gone
The next stop comes quickly and I am off the train and on to another. International Airport bound. This train has far more life. People with suitcases on the start of an exciting adventure. Children in strollers laughing and giggling they are in tune to know that today is special for everyone. I am calm knowing I am going my correct way.
The train stops at SFO. A cluster of travelers read the posted signs and disperse to their respected destinations. A good size group waits for the train to take us to all terminals. The train arrives and we board. Event though it is still quiet between strangers the energy is buzzing with the excitement of travel. I reach the international gates depart the train and make my way to the Hawaiian Airlines check in. As I descend down the escalator I chat with a gentlemen fitted with a tool belt and yellow hard hat. He is on his way to work.
"They sure like to make it confusing. Got to find my way, way over there." he says pointing to a crane far off on the perimeter of the airport.
"Yes we do, The challenge makes it more fun and rewarding" I respond.
As if he doesn't hear me " I don't know how I am going to make it over there. I usually drive. This is my first time taking the train."
"You have time." I say
"Yeah, I'm all right." he assures him self.
"Enjoy The Trip! " As i scamper to the check in area.
I love the feeling of being lost. Knowing I have nothing but time to explore. The airport feels vast and is fairly quiet at around seven in the morning. I walk in circles for a bit not knowing what way to find the Hawaiian Airlines Check in area. I ask a very kind airport staff member, what is exact job is, I'm not sure. But he was playing it flawlessly. Happy to be of service. He tells me that Hawaiian Airlines can be found down corridor number 11.
Of coarse. The number 11 has followed me, and many others, for years. I believe it is ultimately a sign I continue to give myself that I am exactly where I need and desire to be.
Hawaiian Airlines flight number 11 to Kona. From there I will venture to Pineapple Park right on the Mamalahoa Hwy 11. Between mile marker 110 and 111. Of coarse my desired direction can be found down corridor 11. Right on Coarse
I find the corridor with ease and walk up to the automated check in kiosk. I swipe my credit card and my information comes up. Yes, correct name, flight, reservation is here, all is well. I tell the computer I have only one bag to check and hit confirm. On the screen a window pops up that says:
"GUEST IS ENTERED AS A MINOR IN OUR RECORDS. PLEASE SEE AGENT"
Huh. Interesting. At the Bart station I wished for human interaction. Now, in a beautifully lit space of shining floors and ceilings I am being granted my wish. I wait in line to talk with the happy Hawaiian Airlines representative.
"Hello. ID, please" Her eyes are kind and present.
I tell her that the system says I am a minor. I am not. We both laugh. "We can fix that, not a problem" She says. She goes into the system.
"Huh, That's funny. It has your date of birth as May 25th 2012. "
She changes my information to the correct date and prints out my boarding pass. Bags to check? Yes. Just this one. That will be $25 dollars please.
Dang. Really? hmm... game tokens. I am eternally abundant. Money is just one form of a permission slip. Right. Whatever!! I happily hand her my debit card. As she runs it, I notice to my left a group of people checking in with, in my opinion is an excess amount of baggage. At least two huge suitcases per-person. My attendant hands me my card and ID back. "Have a great trip."
I hear to my left " And for the excess baggage, that will be $400."
Stifled gasps and a "wow" comes from the travelers. My $25 dollars now feels like the nothing it truly is. I am light as I make my way to security.
I come to the winding line laid out by black poles and black strips of fabric. It is not very full of people at all. I see the TSA agents, the homeland security crest, the new " light technology" scan booth, signs saying:
"YOU CAN OPT OUT OF THIS TECHNOLOGY AND RECEIVE A PAT DOWN"
And other signs stating the various limitations on carry-on baggage and my first response is fear. I have heard and read many different articles and heard stories from other people about the negative effects of this type of technology and procedure. I have also heard horror stories about what can happen during pat downs. I am in fear and do not know what choice I will make. I then realize that all the information I am running is from what other people have told me. They may be friend or foe. At this stage it does not matter. It is from an opinion that is outside of my own. Okay, so everything is neutral. I choose to believe that. That works for me. I know that. I get that. I can choose to polarize and perceive the matter any way I can imagine. So then, in my reality the Technology is just that. Light. Energy and Information. I choose to believe that walking through this device will not harm me, in fact, lets even go so far as to choose that it can be a healing! Why not?! That's the way reality works. So why not play with it.
Exploring the other side of the spectrum and putting my voice, my spin on the matter brings me again, back to the neutrality of the moment. I don't know what choice I will make, because I am not there yet. I take one foot in front of the other. My guitar, the muse guiding the way. I hear strangers start to question each other about their origins and destinations. I am calmed. I give my ID and boarding pass to the TSA agent. Her eyes are dark. She is bored and uninterested. I feel compassion for her. And I wonder what her true passion is. What she does when she is not dressed in blue and badges.
She marks my pass and I walk into line to lay my things on the conveyer belt. Untie my combat boots, take off my studded belt, take the metal gages out of my ears, and off comes the LEAF ORGANICS hat to reveal my mohawk. A man dressed in business attire behind me kindly laughs at me. He is entertained, I know how I look. Silly little punk rock girl going through the motions at airport security.
A frantic woman comes up to my side of the line. "Could I please jump into your line?" She addresses the whole group. "This other one just isn't moving and my flight leaves in five minutes."
"Oh, by all means." I say. " You can totally go in front of me"
"Great. Thank you. " She bursts. Stepping in front of me
Over my shoulder I see the business man nod is head, in an "all-right..nice" type of manor. I guess not what he expected to come from the way I look. I respect and understand that. I've learned fully not to expect what comes from me any more either.
My things begin to pass through the scanner and I am ushered to wait in the to go through the Light Technology. I allowed my self the pleasure and slipped into another part of my consciousness, the one of the observer. The one who knows. Silence. True and utter Silence. To hear to feel the feeling of peace and rest. A snap into the void. And then another aspects shifts. I sense I feel I hear the TSA woman ask me via heart connection.
There's a -
YOU GOING TO WALK THROUGH?
Loud is the question. Yet all I can hear with my ears is the humming of the x-ray conveyer belt. The question comes from both the TSA employee and myself.
For a minute fraction of a second, I am startled by the ultimate supported love in the connection. Then I recall the silence of the previously perceived scene. I feel supported in the void of the unknown. I am an actor on the stage playing an improv game and then suddenly I am talking.
"I think I would like a human, please. "
"Ya, mean ya gonna opt for a pat down?" swaks the agent.
"Uh-hu. Yes. Please."
"Wait right over there." She points
I stand to the side of the Light Technology scanner and watch all the people pass thru.I watch the various emotional states of the people. Some in fear. Some just uncomfortable. Some Numb as they raise their arms above their heads and the rotating inner layer of the scanner whips round their body. I am slightly uncomfortable for I do not know what to expect. But more so, I am confident with my choice as I allow my self to watch. I feel almost invisible.
A young woman, maybe a few years older than me comes to me dressed in her TSA uniform. She has a sweet face and black rimmed glasses magnify the purity in her eyes. She speaks in a rehearsed and someone robotic manor. Explaining to me the procedure for the pat down.
"If you could please raise your arms out to your sides. I will start at your shoulders, going out to arms, torso, up and down belt, round waist line and belt area. Then round hips up and down both inside and out side of legs. When I get to sensitive areas I will use the back of my hands. Are you comfortable here or would you prefer to go to a private area?"
"No. I am fine here, Thank you."
She starts her pattern. Her hands are warm through her blue gloves. I marvel at how nice this human interaction feels, in such an odd setting. Her heart is pure. I can feel her warm grounded energy through her palms and was comforted by it. As she neared to my chest area she said,
"Back of Hand"
I was amazed to notice how different it really felt. A graze of bone and colder flesh that brought me back to the reality that this was a calculated procedure. She had me turn around as the continued around my waist line and around and inside the low belt line of my pants. Up and down my legs with a straight movement round my bare ankles. Her hands where so warm as she naturally and perhaps unconsciously grounded me to the center of the planet.
"Now, I just need to test the outside of the gloves for residue and then you are free to go." She says.
"Wow, how do you do that? You put it through one of the machines or something?" I am always curious.
"No, it's just a liquid solution to test for explosive powders." And she walks away.
huh, Interesting. I laugh at how I look. Dressed in cargo pants. Black hooded sweatshirt. Black messenger bag, black computer, and with me is a guitar in a black guitar case. I look like the young rebel stereo type in a bad early 90's film.
She returns. "You are free to go."
The body starts talking again on impulse " You have a very lovely energy. That could have been something very weird and scary. But you made it oddly enjoyable. Thank you."
She is slightly unsure at first how to take my comments, then she laughs and says" Yah, you just got a government issued massage!"
"Ha! Ha! Yes! You have a good day!" and I am on my way.
I walk into the bazaar of shops and merchants, signs and numbers, logos and labels.The travelers are busy buzzing talking, sitting or walking. Eating or sharing. Buying or giving. Looking or Listening. Its so much fun to walk and watch. The employees look happy to be of service making slight eye contact when I pass. I am in such an alert awareness of my appreciation for the human experience. So happy with my decision to opt out of the technology for the human touch.
I find my way to the proper gate its located downstairs from a perfectly simple and empty waiting area. I have plenty of time to enjoy and choose to stay on the upper level and wait to go down stairs. I watch out side the windows. The sun has fully risen now. People on the ground level working look like they are happy and having fun while working. A young man driving a cart calm and serine has his hands at his sides, driving too cool for school, no handed. I wonder if they are all really as peaceful as they appear in my perception. Or is the power of my consciousness is so vast that my view of their picture behind my reflection on the glass creates for them the reality of peace? I guess that's all in how you choose to look at it.
I follow the excitement to look at the website for a Emirates. A Dubai based Airlines that was brought to my attention in Los Angeles by a new friend who as been a flight attendant for another airline for years. He said that Emirates is one of the best airlines to work for and that he only tells people about the opportunity if he really feels they would have a shot at becoming a member of the company. I had been curious about this possibility but had not looked into it yet. I combed the site and was quiet impressed and further excited. Tax free salary. Furnished free apartment living in Dubai. Getting a chance to travel the globe in state of the art green aware aircraft. And get paid!! Plus, got to mention the uniforms are spectacular! A well tailored beige suit with red trim. An exotic red hat with a white veil that comes down one side of the head, covering one ear and wrapping low around the neck. Like a female Chic of Araby.
I filled registered in their system and began the beginning stages of application. I know that the process takes a while and I find the possibility alluring. There are many stages to go through. No change would be immediate. Perfect. Follow it. See where it goes.
I have a desire for a little breakfast. I walk back the way that I came. Back to the Bazaar to find some food.On my way there I notice that Emirates has an office only yards away from where I was sitting.I try to open Big Glass non-discripted doors. They are locked. I can peak through a gap between to see shiny polished woods, a statue of three horses. A door with a frosted glass window that says staff. And a dark wood staircase going down to a second level. Swanky. The synchronicity and my own excitement confirm this is an idea I will follow up on.
I end up at a pretty little bakery. Breads, muffins, scones, croissants, and all other things I know make me weighed down and the body has challenge processing. But tastes so good! I allow myself the treat. Just Enjoy it. My heart says be with it. Taste it. Will make it easier for us to digest. I go for a blueberry scone.
The woman behind the counter is a bright and cheery.
"Hey, honey. I saw you get the full treatment in security on my way to work" she starts me.
"Yeah. That was my choice. I opted out. And you know, it was quiet nice. Got a Government Issued massage." I steal my agent's joke.
She laughs. "Well, I'll tell you, you made the right choice. We can't walk through those everyday. So we don't. It's not good for you."
"huh, interesting. Guess my instincts where right."
"They always are. Have a great trip!" She bids farewell.
It's now about time for me to descend down stairs to be prepared to board. Its not until I am in the room on the lower floor that I fully realize I have done this trip before. The large mozaic on the back wall triggers the memories of my first flight to the islands. I made the trip in the nick of time. Boarding with minutes to spare. That time I knew I had just enough time. I did not have to rush but there was the ever present, however dull rumble of worry. This time I knew I had more than enough time. I like the ease and relaxation of being early. All Ways have. All Ways will. Only a few minutes and I am on the plane. Storing the guitar in the over head compartment. Nestle myself in the middle of the right hand row. Between a middle aged guy with a shaved head, a beard, sweatshirt and head phones on. He looks tired, well traveled. He is me. And a woman in her 60's or so. Sweet. Polite. Quiet yet obviously excited for her journey. She is me. I store the messenger bag from my mother safely under my seat. My seat in an upright position. Safety belt fastened. Next thing I know we are driving down the run way. Then we accelerate and I feel the wheels leave the ground. Lift off. What seems seconds later.
"We have now reached our cruising altitude"
I realize I have been in and out of sleep since the take off. At this point I fall back asleep. I do not wake up until my ears begin to pop. Signaling our decent back to the land of Mu.
Dad drops me off in the outskirts of the Tenderloin at the Bart Station hours early for my flight. Just the way I like it. We say our Good byes. Aloha. Its never really forever.
I am slightly scared to be walking into the station. Could I run if I needed too with this pack on? Then I see the uselessness in worry. Death can come at any moment. If I have learned one thing about myself it's that my fears stem from, A- fearing fear its self. Duh. But there is also the unwillingness to look my own darkness in the eye. And then, B- the actual act of being killed. I have allowed this to hold me back in many pasts and futures. Now, being able to connect to more overlaying aspects of me, I see that parts of me are dying now. Are dead. But, the way I see it, the deceased never ceased to exist. Death is something that can come at any moment. Bam! Pow! Releasing my fear of it I find my self in the beautiful neutrality of the moment. That's what I learned the first time living on an active volcano in the middle of the pacific ocean sitting under fully loaded coconut trees ready to fall on your head and kill you. Serves you right for not harvesting the bounty of your mother!
Reminding myself of the "Wabi Sabi" the "beauty in the imperfections." The constant duality of light and dark calmed my nerves and lightened my pack as I walked down the stairs. The lights of the Bart station activate a buzzing in my head that reminds me of the many halls I have seen in my dreams. Brightly lit underground tunnels, winding this way and that. Beings from all walks of life carrying out intentions. Where these lights installed by "them" with the intention to activate fear receptors in my brain? Oh, yes. I forgot. I installed these lights to trigger me. I like to scare me, to remind me to make another choice.
I walk up to the ticket machine. I touch and poke the screen to find its not wired in that way. Oh. Buttons. I see now. I fumble with my plastic bank card. It does not read. I opt to feed the machine with my American Human Experience Federal Reserve Note game tokens. She is hungry and takes them.
I stare at the screen, still not sure of how to communicate with this mechanics to get my desired out come. I wish that there was a human I could buy a ticket from. Like in my old movies, the jolly man in a tipped hat behind a marble counter in a beautiful sparkling train station. I navigate the machine and receive my ticket.
Walk down the stairs and to the appropriate side of the platform. There are friendly human eyes to greet me. Others on their way to work, one girl with a suitcase, she is most likely on her way to the airport too. The train arrives only seconds later. I enter into the middle car. Instantly the harshness of the ugly plain greyish walls of the train give me a headache.
Amazing how sensitive I am to color and light. If this was my train I would paint it a cheery golden yellow. My seats would be a bold yet comforting maroon red. On the bench my black backpack turns into a cluster of pillows in various shades of green and blue. This is my train. I hang crystal beaded curtains from the overhead poles and position my newly installed soft light to hit them at just the right angle, creating rainbows on the walls. Ahh.. that's better. I am now In my world of fantasy and Imagination. The Real World. I notice how tired and sad all the other passengers look. Maybe that's just it. They are passengers, along for the ride. Going through dark tunnels of another's creation. Or that is the belief they are in, that some one else made it and they can not change it. They are in my eyes, creating the creation of not being "able" to create.
A thought comes into my head that I might not make it to the airport. What if the train brakes down and we are stuck in this experience? Then we would have to talk to each other. That would be beautiful. Maybe we would be there for so many hours we would need to start sharing food, huddled around sharing our souls when we've given up hope a third of the way through the movie. Talking about what we wanted to be as kids when we grew up, and how after we leave this train we will all start living our dreams. And then suddenly there is a rush of energy and motivation to live while we are alive! Then, the combined realization of our power starts the train again! What will be will be. I would not reject that type of experience! Ha! At all!
But the train keeps moving and we all keep staring in our respectful zones, working carefully not to look at each other or speak.
I am lulled by the reflections on the widows as we rise above ground. Inside lights reflecting on the glass, melding with the outside lights. The image of my physical form rests atop. Layers of light and information criss-crossing to the point of undefinable origin. My golden yellow paint fades on the train walls, the nest of pillows returns to my black back-pack. I take back my crystal curtains and the rainbows of my spirit. Back in the neutral plain train. I feel so at home when my external reality takes on the layers of symbolism of the blueprint. I am getting better every day at creating my home in any reality.
I wake up from my reverie and realise I am further south, at the end of the line and have missed my spot at SFO. How did that happen?? The train announces it will now become a San Francisco bound train.
Will follow the tracks it just made. I am confused and get off the train. I turn around in circles for a minute, looking for a sign to point me the right way. Then I remember I create the signs and I like to make things confusing for myself so I have to continue to ask questions. The next human eyes I meet belong to a vivacious looking black lady with bright green nails. Oh, your awake in the early hours of the morn too! I see you human! I ask her what train do I need to take to get to SFO? Somehow I missed that stop.
"Oh, Nah, you dinn' miss it. This train doesn't stop there. Not at this time of day. You have to transfer at San Bruno. Get back on this train when dey open. They are switching drivers now.. ya know"
The glint in her eyes as she says " switching drivers now" makes me smile. I cant help but see double meaning in everything these days. We are all switching drivers now in our own ways. Conducting our trains. I'm not sure if she is just talking about this Bart train or if she is implying what i think she is. Her smirk helps me to choose it is the later. I then infuse the belief that she is conscious co-creater. I was unaware to change at San Bruno so I could meet this woman to remind me of the beautiful orchestration of independent conductors passing on their tracks turning solos into duets. The moment I insert this belief she is off chatting with another person. Asking a bright blonde lady with an acrylic french manicure why she thinks the trains run at different schedules at different times. As the doors of the train open she tells me to get off at the next stop and my train will come on the other side of the platform.
"Enjoy the trip" she winks at me as she enters through the train doors and into the next compartment.
"Thank you. Always do. You as well." I politely nod to her as I stay in my compartment.
"Oh! You know it!" and she is gone
The next stop comes quickly and I am off the train and on to another. International Airport bound. This train has far more life. People with suitcases on the start of an exciting adventure. Children in strollers laughing and giggling they are in tune to know that today is special for everyone. I am calm knowing I am going my correct way.
The train stops at SFO. A cluster of travelers read the posted signs and disperse to their respected destinations. A good size group waits for the train to take us to all terminals. The train arrives and we board. Event though it is still quiet between strangers the energy is buzzing with the excitement of travel. I reach the international gates depart the train and make my way to the Hawaiian Airlines check in. As I descend down the escalator I chat with a gentlemen fitted with a tool belt and yellow hard hat. He is on his way to work.
"They sure like to make it confusing. Got to find my way, way over there." he says pointing to a crane far off on the perimeter of the airport.
"Yes we do, The challenge makes it more fun and rewarding" I respond.
As if he doesn't hear me " I don't know how I am going to make it over there. I usually drive. This is my first time taking the train."
"You have time." I say
"Yeah, I'm all right." he assures him self.
"Enjoy The Trip! " As i scamper to the check in area.
I love the feeling of being lost. Knowing I have nothing but time to explore. The airport feels vast and is fairly quiet at around seven in the morning. I walk in circles for a bit not knowing what way to find the Hawaiian Airlines Check in area. I ask a very kind airport staff member, what is exact job is, I'm not sure. But he was playing it flawlessly. Happy to be of service. He tells me that Hawaiian Airlines can be found down corridor number 11.
Of coarse. The number 11 has followed me, and many others, for years. I believe it is ultimately a sign I continue to give myself that I am exactly where I need and desire to be.
Hawaiian Airlines flight number 11 to Kona. From there I will venture to Pineapple Park right on the Mamalahoa Hwy 11. Between mile marker 110 and 111. Of coarse my desired direction can be found down corridor 11. Right on Coarse
I find the corridor with ease and walk up to the automated check in kiosk. I swipe my credit card and my information comes up. Yes, correct name, flight, reservation is here, all is well. I tell the computer I have only one bag to check and hit confirm. On the screen a window pops up that says:
"GUEST IS ENTERED AS A MINOR IN OUR RECORDS. PLEASE SEE AGENT"
Huh. Interesting. At the Bart station I wished for human interaction. Now, in a beautifully lit space of shining floors and ceilings I am being granted my wish. I wait in line to talk with the happy Hawaiian Airlines representative.
"Hello. ID, please" Her eyes are kind and present.
I tell her that the system says I am a minor. I am not. We both laugh. "We can fix that, not a problem" She says. She goes into the system.
"Huh, That's funny. It has your date of birth as May 25th 2012. "
She changes my information to the correct date and prints out my boarding pass. Bags to check? Yes. Just this one. That will be $25 dollars please.
Dang. Really? hmm... game tokens. I am eternally abundant. Money is just one form of a permission slip. Right. Whatever!! I happily hand her my debit card. As she runs it, I notice to my left a group of people checking in with, in my opinion is an excess amount of baggage. At least two huge suitcases per-person. My attendant hands me my card and ID back. "Have a great trip."
I hear to my left " And for the excess baggage, that will be $400."
Stifled gasps and a "wow" comes from the travelers. My $25 dollars now feels like the nothing it truly is. I am light as I make my way to security.
I come to the winding line laid out by black poles and black strips of fabric. It is not very full of people at all. I see the TSA agents, the homeland security crest, the new " light technology" scan booth, signs saying:
"YOU CAN OPT OUT OF THIS TECHNOLOGY AND RECEIVE A PAT DOWN"
And other signs stating the various limitations on carry-on baggage and my first response is fear. I have heard and read many different articles and heard stories from other people about the negative effects of this type of technology and procedure. I have also heard horror stories about what can happen during pat downs. I am in fear and do not know what choice I will make. I then realize that all the information I am running is from what other people have told me. They may be friend or foe. At this stage it does not matter. It is from an opinion that is outside of my own. Okay, so everything is neutral. I choose to believe that. That works for me. I know that. I get that. I can choose to polarize and perceive the matter any way I can imagine. So then, in my reality the Technology is just that. Light. Energy and Information. I choose to believe that walking through this device will not harm me, in fact, lets even go so far as to choose that it can be a healing! Why not?! That's the way reality works. So why not play with it.
Exploring the other side of the spectrum and putting my voice, my spin on the matter brings me again, back to the neutrality of the moment. I don't know what choice I will make, because I am not there yet. I take one foot in front of the other. My guitar, the muse guiding the way. I hear strangers start to question each other about their origins and destinations. I am calmed. I give my ID and boarding pass to the TSA agent. Her eyes are dark. She is bored and uninterested. I feel compassion for her. And I wonder what her true passion is. What she does when she is not dressed in blue and badges.
She marks my pass and I walk into line to lay my things on the conveyer belt. Untie my combat boots, take off my studded belt, take the metal gages out of my ears, and off comes the LEAF ORGANICS hat to reveal my mohawk. A man dressed in business attire behind me kindly laughs at me. He is entertained, I know how I look. Silly little punk rock girl going through the motions at airport security.
A frantic woman comes up to my side of the line. "Could I please jump into your line?" She addresses the whole group. "This other one just isn't moving and my flight leaves in five minutes."
"Oh, by all means." I say. " You can totally go in front of me"
"Great. Thank you. " She bursts. Stepping in front of me
Over my shoulder I see the business man nod is head, in an "all-right..nice" type of manor. I guess not what he expected to come from the way I look. I respect and understand that. I've learned fully not to expect what comes from me any more either.
My things begin to pass through the scanner and I am ushered to wait in the to go through the Light Technology. I allowed my self the pleasure and slipped into another part of my consciousness, the one of the observer. The one who knows. Silence. True and utter Silence. To hear to feel the feeling of peace and rest. A snap into the void. And then another aspects shifts. I sense I feel I hear the TSA woman ask me via heart connection.
There's a -
YOU GOING TO WALK THROUGH?
Loud is the question. Yet all I can hear with my ears is the humming of the x-ray conveyer belt. The question comes from both the TSA employee and myself.
For a minute fraction of a second, I am startled by the ultimate supported love in the connection. Then I recall the silence of the previously perceived scene. I feel supported in the void of the unknown. I am an actor on the stage playing an improv game and then suddenly I am talking.
"I think I would like a human, please. "
"Ya, mean ya gonna opt for a pat down?" swaks the agent.
"Uh-hu. Yes. Please."
"Wait right over there." She points
I stand to the side of the Light Technology scanner and watch all the people pass thru.I watch the various emotional states of the people. Some in fear. Some just uncomfortable. Some Numb as they raise their arms above their heads and the rotating inner layer of the scanner whips round their body. I am slightly uncomfortable for I do not know what to expect. But more so, I am confident with my choice as I allow my self to watch. I feel almost invisible.
A young woman, maybe a few years older than me comes to me dressed in her TSA uniform. She has a sweet face and black rimmed glasses magnify the purity in her eyes. She speaks in a rehearsed and someone robotic manor. Explaining to me the procedure for the pat down.
"If you could please raise your arms out to your sides. I will start at your shoulders, going out to arms, torso, up and down belt, round waist line and belt area. Then round hips up and down both inside and out side of legs. When I get to sensitive areas I will use the back of my hands. Are you comfortable here or would you prefer to go to a private area?"
"No. I am fine here, Thank you."
She starts her pattern. Her hands are warm through her blue gloves. I marvel at how nice this human interaction feels, in such an odd setting. Her heart is pure. I can feel her warm grounded energy through her palms and was comforted by it. As she neared to my chest area she said,
"Back of Hand"
I was amazed to notice how different it really felt. A graze of bone and colder flesh that brought me back to the reality that this was a calculated procedure. She had me turn around as the continued around my waist line and around and inside the low belt line of my pants. Up and down my legs with a straight movement round my bare ankles. Her hands where so warm as she naturally and perhaps unconsciously grounded me to the center of the planet.
"Now, I just need to test the outside of the gloves for residue and then you are free to go." She says.
"Wow, how do you do that? You put it through one of the machines or something?" I am always curious.
"No, it's just a liquid solution to test for explosive powders." And she walks away.
huh, Interesting. I laugh at how I look. Dressed in cargo pants. Black hooded sweatshirt. Black messenger bag, black computer, and with me is a guitar in a black guitar case. I look like the young rebel stereo type in a bad early 90's film.
She returns. "You are free to go."
The body starts talking again on impulse " You have a very lovely energy. That could have been something very weird and scary. But you made it oddly enjoyable. Thank you."
She is slightly unsure at first how to take my comments, then she laughs and says" Yah, you just got a government issued massage!"
"Ha! Ha! Yes! You have a good day!" and I am on my way.
I walk into the bazaar of shops and merchants, signs and numbers, logos and labels.The travelers are busy buzzing talking, sitting or walking. Eating or sharing. Buying or giving. Looking or Listening. Its so much fun to walk and watch. The employees look happy to be of service making slight eye contact when I pass. I am in such an alert awareness of my appreciation for the human experience. So happy with my decision to opt out of the technology for the human touch.
I find my way to the proper gate its located downstairs from a perfectly simple and empty waiting area. I have plenty of time to enjoy and choose to stay on the upper level and wait to go down stairs. I watch out side the windows. The sun has fully risen now. People on the ground level working look like they are happy and having fun while working. A young man driving a cart calm and serine has his hands at his sides, driving too cool for school, no handed. I wonder if they are all really as peaceful as they appear in my perception. Or is the power of my consciousness is so vast that my view of their picture behind my reflection on the glass creates for them the reality of peace? I guess that's all in how you choose to look at it.
I follow the excitement to look at the website for a Emirates. A Dubai based Airlines that was brought to my attention in Los Angeles by a new friend who as been a flight attendant for another airline for years. He said that Emirates is one of the best airlines to work for and that he only tells people about the opportunity if he really feels they would have a shot at becoming a member of the company. I had been curious about this possibility but had not looked into it yet. I combed the site and was quiet impressed and further excited. Tax free salary. Furnished free apartment living in Dubai. Getting a chance to travel the globe in state of the art green aware aircraft. And get paid!! Plus, got to mention the uniforms are spectacular! A well tailored beige suit with red trim. An exotic red hat with a white veil that comes down one side of the head, covering one ear and wrapping low around the neck. Like a female Chic of Araby.
I filled registered in their system and began the beginning stages of application. I know that the process takes a while and I find the possibility alluring. There are many stages to go through. No change would be immediate. Perfect. Follow it. See where it goes.
I have a desire for a little breakfast. I walk back the way that I came. Back to the Bazaar to find some food.On my way there I notice that Emirates has an office only yards away from where I was sitting.I try to open Big Glass non-discripted doors. They are locked. I can peak through a gap between to see shiny polished woods, a statue of three horses. A door with a frosted glass window that says staff. And a dark wood staircase going down to a second level. Swanky. The synchronicity and my own excitement confirm this is an idea I will follow up on.
I end up at a pretty little bakery. Breads, muffins, scones, croissants, and all other things I know make me weighed down and the body has challenge processing. But tastes so good! I allow myself the treat. Just Enjoy it. My heart says be with it. Taste it. Will make it easier for us to digest. I go for a blueberry scone.
The woman behind the counter is a bright and cheery.
"Hey, honey. I saw you get the full treatment in security on my way to work" she starts me.
"Yeah. That was my choice. I opted out. And you know, it was quiet nice. Got a Government Issued massage." I steal my agent's joke.
She laughs. "Well, I'll tell you, you made the right choice. We can't walk through those everyday. So we don't. It's not good for you."
"huh, interesting. Guess my instincts where right."
"They always are. Have a great trip!" She bids farewell.
It's now about time for me to descend down stairs to be prepared to board. Its not until I am in the room on the lower floor that I fully realize I have done this trip before. The large mozaic on the back wall triggers the memories of my first flight to the islands. I made the trip in the nick of time. Boarding with minutes to spare. That time I knew I had just enough time. I did not have to rush but there was the ever present, however dull rumble of worry. This time I knew I had more than enough time. I like the ease and relaxation of being early. All Ways have. All Ways will. Only a few minutes and I am on the plane. Storing the guitar in the over head compartment. Nestle myself in the middle of the right hand row. Between a middle aged guy with a shaved head, a beard, sweatshirt and head phones on. He looks tired, well traveled. He is me. And a woman in her 60's or so. Sweet. Polite. Quiet yet obviously excited for her journey. She is me. I store the messenger bag from my mother safely under my seat. My seat in an upright position. Safety belt fastened. Next thing I know we are driving down the run way. Then we accelerate and I feel the wheels leave the ground. Lift off. What seems seconds later.
"We have now reached our cruising altitude"
I realize I have been in and out of sleep since the take off. At this point I fall back asleep. I do not wake up until my ears begin to pop. Signaling our decent back to the land of Mu.
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