On the Edge of Greatness, Photo by BradensEye featuring her first (but not her last!) rendezvous with the infamous “Jaws”, traditionally spoken as “Ke Kai ‘o Waitakulu” (which means “The Teary Eye”) for Super Swell Saturday January 16, 2021

Bliss ain’t no joke. There’s a compelling swagger affiliated. When you’re around this level of delectation the entire planet spins with ease. Time appears to pause right in thin air. I feel the world stops to make darn tootin’ certain that I’m relishing each lick of her tick. Conquering takes on goliath thrust. The implications of our happiness radar tend to soar. Yet, for all sorts of lame, obscure, or adulting reasons we aren’t always so prompt to kindle an overwhelming portion of magical moments for our repertoire. It’s wildly not every hour that we’re right up against it. That flush of sound that barrels excitement through the core pores of your being. The tingles that seem to untangle anything heavy of heart or mind pulverizing you. Focusing on the urge to surge has instilled a proverb of resolution within me. Where your goosebumps give way to gratitude’s gurus.

But the least push of joy
Breaks up my feet,
And I tip — drunken. ~
Emily Dickinson, Life, Poem 9: The Test

Euphoria is a complete package. It’s the high that flexes your middle finger delightfully full of laughter regarding whatever or whoever thinks they can wreck your happy party. Stressing such bias toward sensibilities of frolic actually unravels the emergency of our stresses. Herein is the seam that draws me off of my bum-numbing if seated too many minutes recliner, away from the screaming emails laptop screen, the clots of television bedlam filling my bloodstream, and teeming globs of social media mayhem on my mobile phone. Instead, I’m boosted by the arch of sharing a bendy yogic body puzzle flirt banter with my Massachusetts muse. As well, I brazenly tow the flow of following my heart straight out the door, into the van, forsaking all former plans for my day now darting through sun sprays, sinfully drowning in the sugary assurance that soon I’ll arrive for a voyage which carries longevity.

I’ve been trying to keep track of how inanely influenced I allow my decisions to be outside of myself. I’m indelibly apprehending these increments of my survival. Wherein I’ve bent madly in favor of the external. Diminishing return after sheltering return when I released the fact of my emotional pull to fit another’s opinion. Until I activated my glint. Remembering the foreboding promise of my own choosing. Whipping my belly’s connectivity to Superwoman talent into shaping the presents (presence) my spirit deserves. Our intuition never bailed. This docile instinct has traveled all ages and generations. It has but one goal in emphasizing our soul’s calling. It doesn’t concern itself with rules, organizations, or public persona judgments. Singular welfare is exclusively its stake. Creating a coquettish relationship with our life is conducive for the sake of lighthearted valor maintenance.

We keep it blazin’ yeah
As long as we living this life ~
Jamar Rolando McNaughton / Kelsey González / David Pimentel / Matt Merisola / Danny McKinnon / Vicky Nguyen, Free Nationals, ft. Chronixx, Eternal Light

As shy as I’ve been over surfing again, I’ve kept close tabs on the conditions of a myriad of Maui’s breaks that were good to me. Cruising a motley amount of weather apps, social network sites, and especially supersized live online streaming, I immediately got caught up in a bucket list craze colloquially known as Jaws. I’d not thoroughly fondled this force of passion inside of me since the early 2000 era aiding my then-boss Dennis Hopper’s son Henry with cool surfing lingo. I’d banked years of energy around a belief that viewing surfers ride these swells was vital for my complete wellness. So, with isolation sparing me excuses, I asked family and friends if they knew how to go see it. I heard lectures on traffic, the roughly two-mile ‘walk’ down to the cliffs (signifying uphill to depart for anyone paying attention, which my adrenaline was not), or told that the laidback boob tube version was best. I nearly didn’t show.

Rainbows are like temporary tattoos of joy. They’re usually splattered so sassy in order for us to flip out of any funk we’ve granted a dwelling. You just can’t be angry about rainbows. Your sky all lit up with Crayola confection. There’s simply zero substance for suffering when rainbows are afoot. This was the beginning of my Jaws love affair ~ frothy ocean foam turned vibrant artwork. An unshakeable hunch had led my haunches. I knew the stars were in my court when sourcing a parking spot along the packed highway was my anchor. I deliberately grabbed a gratis hike a tad outside of my exercise comfort zone in lieu of accepting the paid shuttle. I come alive through thrills. Whether prospering personally or, in this case, eyeballing surf legend others. I brought home connections to strangers turned virgin acquaintances of photographic inspiration and boatloads of monumental memories. Joyously transforming the jaws of life significance for me.

Auspiciously actioning isn’t beside the point, it is the point!

LOVER of life. Especially people, places, philanthropy and photography.

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