The Stairway to Heaven

Finally, I’m back in NYC after a month in Hawaii. Yes, it was absolutely magical. But, it was also unexpectedly transformational. To be totally dramatic about it, life-changing.

If you know me well, you’ll know about “the mountain.” For those who don’t, I booked my flight with a mission: To return and re-climb a mountain, the hike notoriously dubbed as, The Stairway to Heaven (Haiku Stairs). Three years ago, I had conquered the front side of the hike, which is a set of 4,000 vertical steps up the side of the mountain ridge. This time, I was planning to conquer the much more difficult, 10-mile, 8-hour hike up the opposite side. Aka, “the legal way to hike the Haiku Stairs.” Or at least, that’s what I told myself….

It wasn’t until I had landed that I realized the whole, unwanted truth and the real reason why I was there.

I wanted out.

I was running as far away from everything as I possibly could. My room, once a space buzzing with creative energy, had become my own physical and mental prison. New York City, a place that once filled me with life and ambition, had sucked me dry. I was lifeless. Superficial. Chasing the wrong kind of fame and surrounded by deceitful people guised as trusted friends. What’s more, the tragic loss of my passion for poetry. Back then, I would say in every interview, “to inspire one person. That would be enough.” Somewhere along the way, that wasn’t enough. In the pursuit of reaching the masses, I got caught up in wanting, “lights, camera, and action.” It became a self-serving claim to an illusion of fame. The sickening question, “Who did I have to become to make it there?”

Just like in Out of Chaos, I had (once again) put myself in overdrive–consumed by fallacious projects and ever skeptical of the half-truths being thrown in my direction. In emotional distress, I tried to “shut it all off,” close the valve on my feelings and intuition. The more I tried to detach, the more I lost touch with myself, mentally and spiritually. I didn’t know what was true, what was right, who was honest, and who was deceptive. Enough was enough. I wanted to fly away from my feelings, escape the illusions, and let go of everything that had slowly chipped away at my vitality. Truth be told, the situations were very complicated and all connected. Everything I desperately wanted to run away from, meant willingly losing something else. Weighing the pros and cons of letting go of opportunities and people is difficult.

Hawaii seemed like the right place to go. After all, it’s paradise. Not only that, but I knew spending time with my brother would help.

The last and final truth came crashing down: You can run but you can’t hide. The way you feel will follow you everywhere you go. A sense of lack will always linger within like a small, nagging ache, hanging around until you finally face it. Every part of you that longs for change will scream until you actually learn and accept what needs to change.

I was on a hike with my new friend Daniel. As we trudged through the mud over roots and soil, he said, “You know, most people who come to Hawaii are running from something.”

I kicked a rock and watched it roll over the muddy trail. “I know.” I sighed. “Eventually, I have to face all of it.”

He laughed, “Or….you could just run forever…!”

To which I replied, “As long as you’re running, there will always be something chasing you.” Cause and affect.

You have to face everything.

I had come a long way in the years since I had first climbed that mountain. Jobs and weight loss and books and shows and people. Every story and poem I told was a reflection of my own transformation–mentally, physically, and spiritually.

Ironically, the entire 3 year journey led me right back to where it all started: Hawaii and The Stairway to Heaven.

Some part of me believed that once I re-climbed the mountain, something magical would happen. I thought getting to the top was going to gift me with a new purpose, new-found strength, and the answers I was desperately seeking. I’d hoped that maybe, the clarity I was searching for lived at the summit.

(Oh and DUH. A suuuuper, like totally sick instagram pic so that everybody could see that I actually did it.)

When I got to Hawaii, detached and drained, I was immediately surrounded by a group of wonderful people–including my brother. We were all a little sad about something, but that allowed us to connect and lift each other’s spirits. They helped make everyday an adventure. Together we all laughed, cried, ate, and lived.

They took me snorkeling for the first in the middle of the pacific. My brother taught me how to surf. (Well, kind-of. He gave me a surfboard, showed me how to paddle, and then said, “GO.”) We cooked our favorite foods and ate with the locals. We visited every side of the beautiful island–from the mountains to the seas: also known as makua & makai. I kayaked for the first time, hiked two mountains for sunrise, danced and swam under two waterfalls, and wandered alone through a bamboo forest. I tripped and tumbled down the side of a mountain…(which I can assure you is a lot scarier than tripping and falling in feelings.)

Through the eyes of a telescope, with beers and laughter, we all watched the lunar eclipse from start to finish. The first of its kind in over 600 years. I swam with sea turtles and seals and jelly fish. Everyday, I watched the glorious sunrise and sunsets floating on a surfboard in the middle of the sea. Of course, I sang the theme song to the mountains of Jurassic park and strummed my uke around a table of good friends.

Last but not least, God blessed me with the most miraculous, breath-taking rainbows.

Every adventure was exciting. Spontaneous. Thrilling. We didn’t have our phones much. There was no outside world. Just pure presence. We were always totally in the moment, away from the worries and problems of the superficial reality I’d grown accustomed to. Most importantly, each thing we did, came with a lesson:

Surfing taught me the importance of balance and oneness. It taught me to continue to get up and try, despite the amount of times you come crashing down. The mountains taught me patience and peace. To breathe in existence and to be one with my surroundings. The sunrise and sunsets taught me love and warmth, and that light is the most powerful source of life. Snorkeling taught me that there is always more beneath the surface and that the deeper you dive, the more you will find. The eclipse taught me the beauty of darkness and the importance of light as its counterpart– that what is hidden is always revealed. Kayaking taught me team work, synchronicity, and perseverance. The seals, turtles, crabs and jelly fish reminded me that simply existing is still beautiful and exciting. Every single rainbow taught me hope, light and beauty always follows storms, darkness and despair. Nature is strong and fearless, yet gentle and kind.

Hawaii taught me what it means to truly live.

To breathe and be the spirit of Aloha.

The pressure to be anyone but myself faded as I dropped the idea of wanting anything in life just because of what people might think. The idea of chasing fame and clout became meaningless. I began to remember how the greatest impact is made with one person at a time.

At the very least, we are all here to help one another to be the best version of ourselves. It is a miraculous, individual purpose…one that we all have the power to hold. Everyone wants to believe that creating change involves fame and the masses, but really, it’s one soul. One true connection after another, that inspires an individual to be better. The domino affect in full effect. That is how we all can change the world.

I thought the mission was to conquer the mountain…but it wasn’t. It was everything else the month in Hawaii gifted me with…healing, transformation, realization, inspiration, adventure, determination, and reinvigorated vitality. I was tested emotionally, physically, spiritually, and creatively. It was an absolute re-set of my mind, body and soul. In the end, I was given the greatest gift of all, appreciation and perspective. I walked away from everything. Poetry. People. Opportunities. The doors were slamming shut left and right. I knew coming back to NYC before my next adventure would be much different. I’m a little sad, but I knew what I had to lose, in order to gain myself back.

The key takeaway? To live life, love no matter what, and always go in the direction of happiness…

Regardless of what anybody else thinks, says, or does. If it makes you happy and brings you peace, go there.

Do the thing. Go to the place. Tell the person you love them. Face everything that chases you.

If you’re gonna be running….it should be arms wide open towards whatever the f*ck makes you the happiest with nothing at your heels but good memories.

Aloha Nui Loa,
Nat