Kokua for Kauai | Being Here Now is Where I Belong!

I am realizing that calculated risk is in imperative action if I am going to fulfill a life of purpose and promise. This concept has always been present in my mind, though sometimes, similar to a thick canopy of tree tops blocking the sun’s rays, it’s enormity and necessity is veiled from my mind’s view. Just the concept, “calculated” & “risk” resonates to my core. I need a certain measure of extreme in my life, but I need to know I have planned properly for it, enough to which I am not putting myself in harm’s way. Planning isn’t always a triptych path of the roads to come, but more a trial and discovery through life that allows for, at the moment a risky decision is made, the ability for the mind to spin it’s rolodex of events, and says: “Yes, you got this!” of at least, “Hey, I am pretty sure you won’t muck it up!”

Where do I belong? Where do any of us truly belong, swimming amongst other bodies on this small island, swimming in a larger body of water in the pacific, in a still larger body of a planet, swimming further, in a universe of other celestial bodies, ever in their place. I beg of anyone, where do we belong? That’s a heady thought, one that has plagued the philosophers, the theologians, the everyday man or woman, for all of existence; but when I widdled it down to a thin point this past Saturday, the answer was very clear: Tonight, I belong Backstage!

The Build-Up 

Many moments led up to the series of events that came to fruition on Saturday night, most noteworthy, a radio interview segment on HPR with Paula Fuga on my way up to Kokee. I was inspired by this story of a woman who grew up so fast, turned to music, and the spoken and sung word, and was able to so effectively, yet in a way that resonated with everyone, reach the soul of the listener. She had Mana, and it was present in her voice, in her appreciation for everything that led her to that very moment. We would not be who we are today without all the experiences we had. To flag these experiences as good or bad did not do them justice. What if a seemingly “bad experience” was the pivotal driver to get us to the point we were at, and that current point would be deemed empirically “good”? Not so bad and experience after all?! I set off on my hike that day after hearing this radio show, after listening to her talk story and sing and was grateful to know, at that moment of listening I was where I was supposed to be!

Bill Kreutzmann and I had a date with destiny, a potential to meet that was always narrowly avoided due to circumstances, plain and simple. Meadowlands 2008, near miss! Portchester 2014, almost! Then I came to Kauai, and through a friend, a fishing buddy of Bill’s, it looked like the possibility was going to be realized. From 2014 until this past Saturday, multiple more near misses. While my hopeful optimism of the meeting was blinding, the reality of the situation said otherwise. Kauai, though, was where I was supposed to be at this time in my life. More on that shortly!

Jack Johnson and I met (through the purchase of a CD, not literally) in Westport, County Mayo, Ireland. He was the soundtrack for that entire experience, and soon was adopted as a road trip companion for many other travels to come via his music. I caught a show in Hartford, CT in the summer of 2008 and always had a dream to travel to Oahu for one of his legendary Kokua Festival Events. In 2014, my relocation to Kauai seemed to just about solidify that we would cross paths, at least in the form of musician/concertgoer, and I might be able to fulfill my Kokua Dream! This solidified Kauai as an important way point in my life’s travels.

Donovan Frankenreiter, that surfer, hippy, musician, all around kindred soul, resides on Kauai, and when I arrived here in the fall of 2014, I was certain that, at least once, we would, at the least, be in the same room together, I would be able to get a glimpse of his cowboy-esque ruggedness, and basque in the rasp and harmony of his music. Having adopted Bill Kreutzmann into his band, as drummer, Jack being a good friend of his, and Paula being part of that school of Jack Johnson (not sure he would say it’s “his” school) vibe tribe, it was all too overwhelming to believe that in one chance event, moons would align, celestial bodies, would, in formation, cause a cataclysm of Energy, and having set this plan in to motion, at the dawn of time, put all these pieces to a karmic puzzle in place and in one place for me to experience them. This is certainly where I was supposed to be.

And then 49 or so inches of rain fell on the Northern part of the island (I was told a recent discovery of a rain gauge, that didn’t quit, which was found increasing the already catastrophic 29 inches of rain recorded by almost double) in 24 hours. News outlets, other than those on the islands, were largely unaware of the disaster that unfolded, the destruction of property, of animal life, that occurred North Shore Kauai. And, while some other communities might have been up in arms about such a circumstance, lack of coverage, Kauai has a different style, (Kauai as why) a different attitude to these sorts of things. The resilience, the sense of community, the pride and the energy of Kauai and it’s residence, (yes Kauai itself is a sort of mythical figure in my eyes) is unmatched.  Within hours of rain subsiding, flooding still present, the community was rallying around the cause, in Stand Up Paddle Boards, canoes, jet skis, and mode of transportation they could use to get to those in need, and along with help from the military and the government, we were on our way, albeit a long way, to recovery. Donovan Frankenreiter then sets in motion the present day set of events, and Kokua Kauai is launched, with artists from the Islands, Jack Johnson, Makana, Paula, Tubby Love, Bill Kreutzmann, and many more.

I scored my ticket early, and rearranged a few things to ensure that I would be able to attend, and also have some recovery before work the following day. Anticipation of this event was only partially trumped by my Summit bid and successful completion of my trek to Mt. Waialeale, earlier in the week. (that’s another story, altogether)  At 3pm on the 12^th I left work, car pooled to Poipu with some good friends and took in the blissfully serene blue skies of Poipu. The island had endured 4 straight months of consistent rain culminating in the events on the North Shore which led to the creation of this Fundraising Event. A few brief showers cooled us as we hung around the parking lot, waiting for the lengthy line into the venue to die down. Kauai came out in style for support of this important event.

There was an overall air of happiness and positivity that permeated the Poipu Athletic Club. While the line seemed to insinuate that the event would be overcrowded, entering into the venue, slipping down the stairs, there was ample space to maneuver which added to the laid back vibe of the event. After successfully solving the equation that was the money to scripts to food and beverage items, only to find out the food items had been sold out, I settled stage right, (Paige side, as it were) to revel in bluesy grooves of Donovan’s band. (On a side note, everyone who was “working” the event was a volunteer. The tips given to the beverage stands all went to the benefit, and the concerts focus and emphasis was to all things charity and all things green; no plastic used throughout the venue and all single service items biodegradable.)

The Calculated Risk:

My Kauai adventure is ending, and I am relocating, with my wife to Birmingham Alabama. Life changing events such as these bring with them a mental shift: First, if you don’t do it now, you probably never will. Second, the momentary lapse from reality and temporary installation of confidence lends itself to riskier behavior. Like a shot of adrenaline, this confidence flows through every vein, coating the bloodstream, creates that butterfly effect in the stomach, permeating through my entire body, and makes conversation happen more easily amongst strangers, stature to hold itself just a little higher, less inhibition to the thoughts or looks of those around me. Like any “high” lingering in this state or zone is fleeting, and many times, the razor back ridge line that you are riding gives way to the other side and it’s a downhill spill from here. This night, with the moons aligned, the artists aligned, the Mana of the event, of the island, Aloha in the air, I felt I needed to take a chance and try to slip back stage.

The teetering mind and limpness to the legs are typically the downfall of any risky behavior that involves breaking some sort of rule. I briefly rolled through the possible outcomes of my attempt to get backstage and when the worst outcome I could imagine was standing awkwardly backstage in the same position for the remainder of the concert not knowing anyone, but being a little closer to the music, I knew that slipping over that metal railing, through the tree lined side of the VIP tent, and into a post-up position on stage right, was my plan of attack. With little hesitation I made my move just behind the screams of the running young children (children of the performers) frolicking about, under, and through the VIP tent. Success.

I was now standing a little taller, the side of the vip tent to my back, facing direct stage right,  smiling! The stage was empty, the lights set to a shady blue, awaiting the intensity and energy of Jack Johnson, who I now saw sitting on the small stair leading up to the stage, to my left. My head turned ever more left, and sitting in a chair, directly next to me is Bill Kreutzmann. My mouth dried up, and my thoughts followed suite, but the possibility that this close encounter would soon vanish from existence caused my fumbling self to approach him, and try to say hello. A scratchy voice and inability to process sensory stimulation and thought in real time elicited a very fatherly reaction from Bill. He said, “speak up son!” I did just that, snapping into my former confident self I briefly explained my excitement to meet him after a few thwarted attempts. It was a quick interaction, relaying my genuine gratitude, and I was back to my post, back to tent wall, and arms crossed.

Jack Johnson greets the crowd in his story-teller style, regaling the audience in snippets of his IRL escapades that led up to the writing of many of his most recognizable and addictive songs. Jack seems to speak to the individual audience members in these moments and briefly, we are friend camped around a fire place to hear of a funny an idyllic moment that occurred that he needed us to here. This ability, this connection, this human quality gently blends with his super star icon status, and makes him your friend, confidante, and companion, and really, really cool. A solid rendition of “Times Like These”, a story led version of “Banana Pancakes” and of the Jimmy Buffet cover “Pirate Looks at Forty” were all part of a request driven set list.

When I come to from my thoughts, and turn left again, there standing to my side is Paula Fuga and she is called to stage to perform alongside her longtime friend, Jack. Paula performs Country Road which she also performed on the HPR radio show I recently heard and her presence and energy command the audience. Her voice is so soulful in its story telling style. I know the story of this song from her insight during the HPR interview, and the theme is patience, the realization of what’s really important in life, and gaining that perspective in a traffic jam due to a car accident (it’s a true story). I am thrust into the words, “sometimes it’s hard to ease my mind, to realize…” I find myself, smiling harder, being let into a cosmic joke, and not everyone is privy to its punchline. I am in that moment of gaining perspective, of prioritizing what’s really important right now. From time to time, throughout the night, I make eye contact with those around me, manifesting the reality that I am not a trespasser, but truly belong here. I watch as Makana takes the stage, other Artists, and the stories that accompany their presence with Jack Johnson, as I am surrounded with the loved one’s of the performers. I am thankful, blessed, and am constantly giving thanks, silently, for the experience, however long it will last, to be at this vantage point.

Lessons, experience, passion, creativity, all abound as the night slowly forges on. The speed of this performance is actually in juxtaposition to the energy that it gives off, and I feel as if longevity is a sign of being in the moment, present with my experience, thoughts gradually becoming lighter, dissipating to the singular moment at hand, and feel this overwhelming emotion come over me. As I start to work through this emotion, I turn, again, to my left, and standing next to me is Donovan Frankenreiter. He had slipped past a few times, but now he is just enjoying the moment, and as he turns to me, we make eye contact, and he reaches out his arms and gives me hug. I said hello, quickly formulate half sentence regarding my enjoyment of the evening, his performance, and then he was gone. Coming past him, as he moved closer to the stage, was Paula, and I was able to also thank her, quickly relay my appreciation and inspiration of her performance and of her STORY. It was at this moment that I realized I had been able to, in one fell swoop, bring all these independent paths to a crossroad, and I was standing in the middle. This convergence was once in a life time. But, if I am open minded, with attention to the subtle clues of the universe, with the courage to take some calculated risk, events such as these will happen again. Events that will answer, albeit briefly, the question of “where do I belong?” Tonight I belonged here, backstage!

Epilogue:

Nearing the end of the show, I feel the rising crescendo begin to plateau, bank over the precipice of experience and begin it’s slow approach to reality. I get a text that my friends are moving back to the exit and making their way to the vehicle. I hear a man behind me mention that there is about 15 more minutes before the show has to end, due to curfew, and the same gentleman then taps me on my shoulder and asks me how I got back here, where my wrist band was, why I was here(was that really a question)? I pointed the direction back from which I came, and he told me I didn’t belong back here and had to leave. There was no big scene, but a slight walk of shame as I made my way around the VIP tents, watching the children of the performers sketching out drawings in crayon and winding themselves down for the night. I turn the far corner, opposite where I snuck in, and then see that fence in front of me, dividing the crowd from the backstage. The metal divider between here and there, between being with the performers or being with the audience. I slung my leg over the fence in acknowledgment of where I belong. I slip back into the crowd, proof in the way of video and photos, and find my way back to my friends. As I approach them, at the top of the stairs, music playing to my back, an outro of sorts, a soundtrack to our exit, they stand and we move to the our car with “Mud Football” playing in the background, and part of the chorus resonating, “thinking everything good, always would remain!” For a brief instance tonight, I was thrust back to that youthful exuberance and hopeful optimism, that everything good would remain, and came to the realization that, if we allow ourselves to slip between the experience, and be present in the moment at hand, free of judgement with a clarity of mind, we can exist in the present where everything good does remain. Mahalo Nui Loa.