Be Here Now
And Be Here Later

It was November 2006. Hot as shit outside. They called this place Captain Cook. I'd read the stories of that guy. How he'd “discovered” a lot of places this side of the seven seas. His facade as a god ran out on the Big Island. Just down the road from where I was working is where he was slaughtered in the sand. In the looming shadows of the Kealakekua Bay cliffs, where they would bury their royalty.

When I signed up for Willing Workers on Organic Farms [WWOOF], there wasn't a bone in my body that knew hard labor. Yet, my subconscious knew I would overcome the rough start, and my blood knew that my future ancestor would awaken and get my hands dirty, as my people have always done.

I spent nearly three months in South Kona. Writing songs, picking coffee, harvesting lettuce, grooming trees, building things. I had two gurus at my first work trade. They seemed like total opposites in doctrine, but naturally similar in essence. Andy was a profoundly angelic creature. A marvelously talented cellist, a man of the lord, a real island monkey. He was the first to call me Nahkohe-ese. Hemonsu was the quiet, hard-working coffee plantation owner with profound wisdom in the little he said. He and his wife both had adopted Hindi names, which intrigued me and helped me settle into my own reclaimed name.

I found Ram Dass' book Be Here Now in the library at that farm. Or was it in a box somewhere? I can't seem to remember exactly. It found me. But, when it did it was exactly when I need ed it. It quickly became my scripture. Each page cradled my longing for a teaching that could ease me through the transformation I was experiencing. That old archetype was dying. It wasn't long before I was able to begin applying the poetic mantras to my daily life.

Of course, there's always some kind of use whence the song came to me. There was a girl, naturally. Thank god. She was a catalyst in the lessons of youthful, reckless love and the struggle of intimacy without expectation of commitment. Be here now. Enjoy the ride. Don't tell anyone how to live their life, but know how you will live yours---with boundaries, but on an open road to courageous self-security.

The story in this song is a real thing. It happened. When I listen to it now, I grin. Always trust the symphony in your head. Love without limit, but when you find your edge, respect it.

I can still see that yellow school bus, the lettuce, the basil, and that twinkle in my higher reflection as if to say, “It's a long road ahead, kid. Be present and kind. Only good things can come of it.”