“Heeeyy! Look at these rocks! I found them here, at this beach, can you believe that?”
A curly blonde hippie surfer dude was holding them in one hand, palm extended to us. One stone was smooth and grayish, like an elongated triangle. The other quartz-like and crystalline, with a rougher edge.
“Here, do you want to touch it?” He was like a 6 year old at show-and-tell emptying out his pockets.
Before we could reply, he was placing one stone in my hand and the other in DH’s hand. DH examined his carefully, while striking up a conversation with a tattooed girl sitting on the blanket. I was distracted, holding the stone in one hand and tugging at the kiawe thorns stuck to the bottom of my sandals. Slowly, I was prying them out with my fingernails. We start giving him back his stones.
|Ki'awe thorns can get very long and |
love to poke up through the bottom of one's shoes.
“Here, switch stones!” He is now putting the crystal in DH’s hand and the other stone in my hand. I stand straighter, triumphant. Three extracted kiawe thorns are now in my right hand.
I give him back his stone. “No,” he says, “You need more time with that, sistah. Absorrrrb the energy.” he says emphatically. Each word comes out slowly and deliberately, like the puffs of smoke from a hookah. With limp enthusiasm, I hold the stone a little longer and then hand it back.
“No, no!” He chastises me, as if I had sinned in trying to return it too soon.
Then he turns to DH and gives him a big hug. He turns to me and gives me a hug too which I don’t return. I am standing stiff armed looking at him. “Ye-aaah! You need this too, sistah, even if you don’t want it.” It was a baptismal hug as if he saved my soul. He is grinning broadly, like a Cheshire cat.
I try to return the stone.
“No-ooo, hold it with your other hand now. Fee-eeeel the energy!” He says this with the zeal of a messiah, a born again evangelist.
The kiawe thorns are in my other hand. I look up at him. His eyes are almost laser bright. He makes a good messiah, but he is also a shoo-in for
’s crazy friend. He is just missing the
Wonderland hat. Alice
“Would you like some kiawe thorns?” I ask him jokingly, showing him my collection.
“Sure!” rolling out the sound.
I give him the thorns and move the stone to my other hand.
The mad hatter without a hat is grinning, “Look, one of them is a double thorn, it’s a wishbone!” The bit of kiawe branch had two thorns facing opposite directions.
“Here let’s make a wish.” He takes one thorn between his fingers and I pinch the other thorn. I do not make a real wish. HELP is my wish. Help, I am talking to a crazy person. We pull. I end up with the bigger section. “Hey you got your wish!”
I am overhearing bits of the conversation between DH and the tattooed girl. "Yeah," she says, "It is hard to be single on
The evangelical hatless hatter jumps in, “Naah, it’s not hard to be single, if you like craaaazzzyyy people.”
I am smiling inside.
Opening his eyes even wider, he adds, “Hey, you’re either running away from crazy people or you’re accepting that you’re – one of them!”
He jumps up and whirls around, “Man, you guys are missing a beautiful sunset. You gotta open your eyes. This is like a MOMENT.” Hugging both of us at once, he turns us around, facing the sunset. It is beautiful. A pinkish triangle is streaming out from the top of Kaho’olawe. Yeah, it is beautiful. The sunset messiah is glowing. If he had a hat, it would be levitating.
|This is the actual sunset we saw that day.|
Later, I ask DH, “What do you think he was on?”
DH ponders, “I don’t think it was pot. Pot makes people more thoughtful and quiet. Could be alcohol.” I shake my head, thinking of his special rocks, his crazy
Maui wisdom. “Maybe, but I still think he was… stoned.”