SHE LISTENED TO THE MELODIC WAVES WASHING ASHORE, LAPPING onto the grainy beach while she reverently breathed in the scent of her beloved Monterey cypress pine trees mingled with the salty ocean air. The mixture of the trees and the ocean coursed through her body, sending a chill down the length of her spine. With her laptop set up before her, she found herself wandering into an understanding that there are many spiritual paths to awakening, and now understood she needed to be wooed by love and courage.
The air was crisp at that early hour, the sun only hinting of a new dawn. Smythe gently pulled the shawl wrapped around her shoulders closer to her body. She thought of love and her Beloved. God, Universe, the Divine, Source, All, Energy. So many different words to describe the indescribable—the mystery.
She once heard there is a difference in the belief of God from the one who experiences God. She sensed she was in the midst of a growing experience with her Beloved, and the All of Everything continued to beckon her closer, deeper. Her Beloved was everything to her—had always been everything to her, but for so long, she did not know how to access or expand all that the Source of Everything had become to her.
Artie watched Smythe from the kitchen window and grinned. She hesitated to interrupt her contemplation, but it was coffee time. She walked to the kitchen door and opened it, calling out through the screen door.
“Hey, baby, do you want coffee?”
“Yes, please. Could we have it out here?”
“Of course. Let me bring out a couple of sweatshirts. The Pacific air is cold this morning.”
Artie padded away and gathered two sweatshirts from the couple’s bedroom closet. She returned, handing Smythe her coffee and the sweatshirts and a wool beanie for Smythe’s head. Smythe watched as Artie appeared in the kitchen to pour herself a cup before joining her on the deck.
“What a lovely, foggy day,” Artie said as she sat down.
Smythe regarded Artie for a moment and smiled before taking a sip of her coffee. “I do love your coffee.”
Artie smiled. “You seemed deep in thought before I came out. Care to share your thoughts?”
Smythe took another sip of her coffee and breathed in the scent of pine as she watched the waves lap onto the shoreline. “It seems I was at this threshold. I was standing in this in-between place. I could feel my hand reaching out for a life I so desperately wanted, yet it rarely occurred to me that I was in the midst of living that life—living within this threshold—and actively creating the life I wanted as I went along. I had to wait. The aspects of it needed to be brought together, only I didn’t understand it then.
It’s that space, the threshold, where I was in so much needless angst. That space between the here and the not yet is where the life we are always creating lives… even now. We’re creating life in this moment, Artie. Creating for a future we have yet to see.”
Smythe took in a long breath. She explained to Artie that it was here, in this wooded ocean community she so long-ago visualized residing. It was here she envisioned where she would spend her life with a yet-unknown partner. Only she simply saw it as a dream, a mere fantasy. There was nothing that would indicate it would ever be a tangible reality. And, because there were no outside tangibles to suggest her dream would become a reality, she simply folded the desire into her heart, hoping against hope to make it a reality.
“Darkness seemed to envelop me every day. I remember thinking those months were one long, dark night of the soul. But then I remembered meditating on the fabric of darkness, and as I look back, I recognize there was always an illumination—much like the story I told you about when I died. Even though it was dark, there was an illumination. My Beloved was there then. Was there during those awful months; was always there, and so were you. While I don’t ever, and I mean ever, want to experience that darkness again, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. My soul expanded, and the love for others expanded as well.
“I remember hanging out with our ohana one morning on Oahu, and one of them asked me a question. Do you remember?” Smythe asked.
“I remember. ‘How did you distinguish between your own voice and the voice of the sacred?’ I found your response interesting.”
“Yeah. God’s voice has always been one of hope and possibility. One of wonder and joy, even when things got hard. It was a voice of deep, abiding peace. But the other voice, the voice that shook me to my core, was one of condemnation, accusation, guilt, and shame. And that voice roared loud with all of its accompanying emotions.”
Smythe paused. She could feel a tingle down her spine.
“I just grasped the difference in the two voices in a deeper way.”
“How so?” Artie asked.
“Well, in almost all faiths, it is said that the Beloved’s voice is quiet. I remember the voice I was fighting against to stay alive. It was so loud that I couldn’t hear my Beloved. I couldn’t seem to get quiet enough. It was only when sleep finally came that I was aware of a low-pitched melody playing in my head. An old gospel song that I play when I’m running. It was a song of hope, a song where I didn’t need to struggle; it was a song that said my Beloved would help me through. I just needed to hang on and do the next thing I knew I was supposed to do. Even if it seemed outrageous to others, it wasn’t for my life. It’s what Joao had been talking about. My Beloved was singing the melody of my life, and only I could offer the response song.”
“I think I’m still singing the response song,” she said, smiling at Artie.
“Yeah, you are.” Artie paused with a mischievous look pulling at the corners of her mouth. “So, ummm... about that unknown person in this dream…”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake! I married you, didn’t I?”
“Just checking, baby. Just checking,” Artie replied, smiling widely. She gazed out onto the shoreline, breathing in deep. “Want to go kayaking later today?”
“What time do we pick up Davey?”
“His flight comes in at 7:00 this evening.”
“Then, yes, let’s kayak. But I also need time to finish a model plane I’ve made for him.”
“He’s gonna go crazy over it.”
“I hope so.”
“Artie?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
“I know. I love you too, Smythe.”
Smythe looked out onto the shore and reflected on Artie and the qualities she was attracted to. Here sat this woman, full of courage, grit, intelligence, infinite compassion, kindness, and action, making a living as a protector of others. In an instant flash of clarity, she recognized that all of those qualities were actually qualities within herself. Artie was simply a human mirror of Smythe—a mirror of us all, really. Not of what she hoped to be, but of who she currently was.
For a time, she did not recognize those same qualities, for they were wrapped differently and spoke differently than Artie. The only difference between them was that Smythe had not tapped into her potential. She thought about the past year. She had attracted not only what she wanted, but what she needed. She marveled at the intricate weave of thought, hope, prayer, meditation, and energy which provided the circumstances for her to recognize all that she was be-ing.
Smythe had come home to herself and sat next to a partner; a wife who continued to mirror back to her the questions of her deepest longing. She wondered at the infinite God of the Universe—her Beloved, and she knew her Beloved conspired on her behalf.
*
* *
Along the seashore, along the western shores of Kauai, Joao sat with Akamu.
“It is done?” asked Akamu.
“The debt is paid, yes,” replied Joao. Joao looked up to the sky. It was a clear day, and he could see far out to sea. He imagined that across the ocean, sat Smythe, gazing out to the sea. He thought about the islands. About Akamu. He knew the islands faced an uncertain future.
“Does she yet understand, Joao?”
“I am unsure. But the one she loves senses it and will protect her. Of this I am sure. I understand she has met with some here on the island.”
Akamu remained silent, breathing in deeply as he watched the waves gently rolling onto the sandy residue of a thousand lifetimes.
…what if there is no problem?