Dictionary.com says that august means, "inspiring reverence or admiration; of supreme dignity or grandeur; majestic" I've recently come to believe in god, and I think august is an appropriate word to describe a little bit of what god must be. But this isn't a post about divine fractions.
I'm at Brigham Young University in Hawaii. Yesterday, after an amazing flight from Melbourne, Australia, to Sydney, and then to Honolulu, I arrived in my country's only island state. I left early in the morning on August 10th and I arrived early in the morning on August 10th. That's not a typo; it's just what happens when you cross the international date line. I'd never done that before, and the experience was a mixed bag.
My first 10th was extraordinary. I woke up early on a rainy Melbourne morning, packed my bags, had a big raw breakfast of grated and chopped apples, sliced bananas, cinnamon, and soaked chia seeds all over a big bed of green lettuce and celery. That's what I've been eating just about every morning. Then I went to the train station to do some busking. Here's what Dictionary.com says about busking:
1.Chiefly British . to entertain by dancing, singing, or reciting on the street or in a public place.
2. Canadian . to make a showy or noisy appeal.
I was doing the British version with my flute. On the way to the train station I knew that I would walk by a special house in the suburban neighborhood of Caulfield. The house was special because right out in the front yard there was a little orange tree that was dripping with beautiful, ripe oranges. The grass in the small front yard was long and there wasn't a path from the house to the tree, indicating to me that no one was taking advantage of this fruity bounty. I had been wanting some of those oranges for two full days, on and off. I stopped in the drizzling rain, looked at the oranges, contemplated hopping over the knee high brick fence and grabbing a few. But that brought up some moral questions. It would be stealing. I believe that stealing is wrong.
What was stopping me from going up to the door, knocking, and asking if the owner minded if I picked a few off the tree? Nothing but a small fear of a word that has taken on an unnatural importance in my mind: NO. I didn't want to hear that word. But, the truth is, the owner of that tree had every right to tell me no and I would have no right to be upset with him if he did. Once I had that worked out, I rang the doorbell, asked the grumpy old man who answered if I could pick a few oranges, and he said...."Yeah, OK." Haha! Victory! Honestly acquired, fresh, nutritious vegan pirate treasure. Lately, I've been going mad for fruit and vegetables. I hesitate to eat anything else.
Anyway, busking. I walked into the train pedestrian tunnel, opened my green cotton satchel up in a way that would, I hoped, invite many gold coins to be tossed in it, and placed the oranges artistically around its corduroy perimeter. Then I began playing a mix of Nepali folk tunes and a few little devotional ditties that I've created myself, and I smiled with my eyes at the commuters, students, and other folks who walked through that music filled tunnel. The fact that it was cold and raining usually seems to deter people from sharing their hard-earned money with vagabond flute players, but some kind of magic was happening in the Caulfield Train Station's Pedestrian Tunnel on the morning of August 10th (the first August 10th).
Forty five minutes later, when my fingers were aching with cold, I decided to close up shop (my bag) and hopped on the train to Southern Cross Station with an extra $16. Not bad for a quick day's work. From there, the bounty of August 10th continued to increase geometrically as I received love, food, friends, and veritable "get out of jail free cards" at every turn. I could do no wrong and every person, place, and thing in the universe was conspiring not only to make my life easy, but to make it downright joyful.
That was, of course, until I flew into my second August 10th.
My second August 10th landed me in Honolulu International Airport. I felt strange, sleep deprived, too hot in the humid, tropical air, and confused about what to do and where to go.
