A Monk's Guide and the Sand Zamboni

Today was the end of day three. Sunday was day one--I slept ten hours and then we spent the day at the hotel in the usual fashion, that is, starting out with a three mile walk along the beach with my mom and watching the kids build sand castles and swim on the beach. Then we headed up for lunch at the beach side restaurant, small glass of champagne included. In the afternoon the kids move to the pools and Bill and I visited the spa by the sea. A meeting of the 4:00 piña colada club--no new business and no old business. Simple dinner in the room. Early to bed. Monday was the same minus the spa visit.

Today we ventured out to the north shore-stopping at Matsumoto's shave ice and Giovani's shrimp truck. The shrimp was new this year-gasp. We've been going to the same places at the same time for ten years now. But, Mary found this food truck online and judging by the line and the wait it was true to its reputation. So, now we have a new tradition. We took a long hike in the sun to Ka'ena point, where the west and the north side of the island meet. You can see both sides of the ocean and also some rare albatrosses nest there. The beach at the hotel is an engineered lagoon, the the north shore is the real deal. No swimming there.

I read a book. A Monk's Guide to a Clean House and Mind, by Shoukei Matsumoto-no relation to the shave ice grocer. I don't know. According to the book I have mold and dust on my heart. All cleaning is symbolic. At home right now, every single thing is cleared out of the entire downstairs and the floor is getting sanded and varnished. Then the walls are getting painted. It will really be a fresh start. There will be no fingerprints, scratches and dark grey patches. No blemishes on my heart or in my mind. The monks clean everything everyday. With everything in its place it might be easy to achieve enlightenment. I'm totally tempted by this. What if? What if this were possible? What if we took it even further than Marie Kondo? As we put things back after the new varnish and paint, we can curate. We can spark. There might be a moment when everything is perfect.

There is a machine here at the hotel beach. It's like a Zamboni for the sand. It drives over the whole beach overnight and in the morning it's all smooth and there are no footprints. The monks would love it.

Even if I were to achieve enlightenment in the living room, dining room and kitchen, there will still be the rest of the house and the garage and the garden. Even if I made a beautiful list in my bullet journal and came up with a rotation to clean all the screens and polish the wood and shampoo the carpet it would still never be complete. There would still be cobwebs in my mind.

That's the reason I'm not a Buddhist. I'll never be a monk. My mind is more like the north shore. The waves crash on the rocks and whirlpools form and the sand is full of coral fragments and sharp pieces of lava.

The hotel beach has little golf club grass leading up to the raked sand. But it's only one beach on a huge island of mostly wild waves and rocks. A monastery of beaches.

We only get a few hundred yards of perfection.

Real life is wild and unruly. It requires grace. It requires relinquishment. The peace that passes all understanding.

Dear Lord,
Thank you for vacations. For little moments of perfection in our busy lives. Thank you for the smooth sandy beaches but mostly for the actual rocky and wild perfection that is the real landscape of our lives. The beautiful, powerful and relentless north shore waves of real life. Help us to appreciate the beauty of it all, safely from the shore. And as far as the clean house and clean mind--well help us with that too-- at least a little. 
Amen.