Dear Akiko,
I hope you are well.
Being at your bed and breakfast during the holidays was a
dream come true, 30 years in the making.
When I watched your documentary, August at Akiko’s, six
years ago, I knew I would one day travel there and fulfill my life-long wish to
go on retreat. Yet, it took many more years to get there: first, I had to take
care of my dying mother; then I had to learn how to manage money; finally, I
had to find the time to get away from it all.
On New Year’s Eve, 2024, I landed on the big island of Hawaii
and found myself in a room in your Sanctuary House -- a green, two-story
building with books, altar, inspirational quotes, and the wafting scent, traveling
through open doors and windows, of Japanese incense, and Hawaiian trees and
flowers. The house’s décor of eclectic
furniture and appliances was simple but charming, never distracting from the sounds
of life in its surrounding rainforest: nightly songs of coqui frogs, and the morning
chorus of Hawaiian birds, hens, pigs, and cats that took cover from those pigs wherever
they could find. Even the rain felt large and glorious as if it was daily cleansing
the earth.
I expected quiet and solitude during my stay but was instead
pulled into a magnificent adventure with my fellow housemates, all in their 20s
and 30s (I am in my 50s), who needed respite from their stress and
pressure-filled, high-powered jobs in major cities.
We quickly shared healing truths, hopes, and dreams with
each other as we walked on the Old Mamalahoa Highway, practiced earthing at Veteran’s
Park, swam at Richardson Ocean Park, hiked along Hakalau Bay, star-gazed at
Mauna Kea, shopped at the Hilo Farmer’s Market... One housemate said we could be authentic and
truthful with each other because you were truthful and authentic with everyone.
You taught me how to keep my chin down during a demonstration
of Zazen meditation so as not to stress the spine and shoulders; and Maddy, the
yoga instructor, taught me how to stretch and how to say Aum from my belly
button to my lips. I learned many things during my ten days at your place, but
I especially learned the answer to a personal koan that’s followed me around
for years with its popular imagery: See No Evil. Speak No Evil. Hear No Evil.
That first morning, on the ledge of the kitchen window in the
Sanctuary House, I ran into a small golden statute of three laughing Buddhas holding
their hands up to their eyes, mouth, and ears. Immediately, I knew the answer
to my koan: withholding judgment was the only way not to see, speak, or hear
evil, and therefore the only way to love. So, I loved Everyone and Everything at
Akiko’s, and I hope to continue to do so in my daily life.
Forever love and mahalo to you and the ancestors,
Barbara
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