In Hawaiian history, a Pu’uhonua was a place of refuge. A place dedicated to the protection of innocents, lawbreakers, those defeated in battle. It was a place of absolution, a place in which violence and vengeance were left at the door. Many of us still need places of refuge.
I wrote this story roughly six years ago, and a new friend encouraged me to put it out there. Fair warning, this is a story about losing my dad and reckoning with those emotions many years after the fact. It’s a longer piece, and not a light read. But this story is also about honesty, freedom, and longing. I hope something in it resonates with you.
So I did something out of character. I bought a concert ticket for a show in Colorado. Shakey Graves, one of my favorite artists, is playing at Red Rocks and … Continue reading
We talk a lot about giving. Sacrifice. Selflessness. I’m not saying we do it well, but we praise the act of giving like it’s the last step to sainthood. Giving … Continue reading
I’ve been thinking about this concept a lot lately. Some might call it avoiding responsibility. I like to think of it as outsourcing. We think we’ve dealt with it by … Continue reading
Green, blue, and gold-brown everywhere, filling my hungry, roving eyes and translating to happy in my heart. I love this drive. Mountain View to Montara via the 280 bathed in … Continue reading