I biked along the ocean yesterday. Rolling hills, lava flows mixed with deep, wet forests lined my path. We started at the farm, Nathan and I, and journeyed to the Kalani Ecstatic Dance which happens every sunday morning. People call it church, but it's hard for me to compare the two. We danced, freely, openly, lovingly. The open air studio has a sweeping view of the sea: I faced it with the energy of a hundred people behind me. I felt their vibrations in my shoulders, moved it down my back, and danced my little heart out. It was quite spectacular, especially after a rainy bike ride there.

I was going to go to bed long ago. Then I started listening to a song I haven't heard in awhile. I know I can learn to play it on the piano, but the house doesn't stir enough to make playing music on the apparatus fair game. Today, or this week, or some hour around now marks 3 years of my beloved dog Lucky's death. I shared 17 years of my life with her and to this day I still open the door to my mother's home slowly, waiting for her to wag her little self around it's edge and paw my legs, squirming so. She doesn't.