I am not, what you would call, a fan of the rain. In fact, I damn-near hate the rain. And getting caught in its slippery grasp, with or without a pina colada, is not a whole lot of fun to me.
Since moving to Maui a year and a half ago, I’ve had the opportunity to get a behind-the-scenes look at what makes the Valley Isle one of the most beloved vacation spots in the world. In addition to the sunshine and the Aloha spirit, the other (underlying) factor that draws so many to Maui’s shores is, indeed, the rain.
There would be no lush, green mountains without the rain. There would be no beautiful flora without the rain. There would be no rainforests or rainbows without the rain–literally. Ultimately, there would be no Maui – or Hawai’i, for that matter – without the rain. So, how can I, in good conscience, damn-near hate something that actually yields something else that I hold so dearly?
Good question. In fact, that question is so good that it begs another:
How can I damn-near hate (or actually hate) an experience (or an actual person) that has – some way, somehow – actually led me to loving the life that I lead right now?
Damn, now that’s a good question. And now, for a damn-good answer:
Back in the day, though, I used to think that I could juggle my hatred for one thing (or person) with my love for something (or someone) else. But now I see I wasn’t juggling my feelings as much as I was joking and fooling myself into thinking that my hate could drive out hate. But as Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. so wisely surmised sometime ago, “only [my] love can do that”.
Consequently, in the midst of this universal time of cleaning and cleansing, I am not only ridding myself of things that no longer serve me, I am also loving away the (real and imagined) hateful experiences that I’ve encountered in my (distant and recent) past to make ample room for the lovely life that I am living today.
2014-2017 Copyright Stephanie Rochelle Redd. All Rights Reserved.