Manifesting Aloha

I went for a grounding walk to welcome the Winter Solstice the day before the wind and rain stripped the trees of their vibrant-colored leaves. I'd been gathering my wellness plan for the winter months and had set out on a walk to invite more guidance for healing. I had just started therapy, where I was told an accident at age 14 classifies as a suicide attempt. 

Whether I've been in denial for the past 30 years or the timing was never right, there was no other point in my life that I was prepared to hear it. I took this new information with me and discovered a trail nearby. I turned my Spotify playlist to shuffle and had fun recording parts of the journey, but the heaviness returned when a jagged plant along the trail scraped my leg. I was startled by the release I felt from the pain and thought of what my therapist had asked, "Now that you know the truth, what will you do with this information?"

The Mason Jennings song called California began to play, and I felt knocked down like the trees the following day. This song has been emotional since I first heard it on the show called Reservation Dogs. California has been one of my biggest heartbreaks ever since my family visited in 1988 and decided to stay. It's not my native land, but the closest place I have to home--close, but not quite.

I felt Jennings's song deep within me. It exposed my longing for better days, regret, and loss of time. It holds my happiest memories of meeting my best friend, marrying my husband, and giving birth to three children. I also received my deepest wounds in California when I lost my will to live, lost my best friend, and lost myself. When that song played, it felt like it was resetting my broken heart. I reconnected with that 14-year-old girl on that walk, and together, we ran as fast as possible up the dusty trail. 

I could feel the limp from my injury, which was only noticeable once I started to run. It made me wonder what else trauma had prevented. I ran to the top of the hill and spun around like the hawks circling above me. Drunk on endorphins, I cried, "Fuck you, Califonia. I love you." I forgave the place that broke my heart and, for the first time, felt a deep peace in my home. In that experience, I realized how hard it’s been to heal in the place that hurt me, but the chaparral, purple mountains, and ocean breeze rooted me deeper through my senses and created a healing pathway. 

Later that day, I scrolled through my phone, looking for the videos I had taken of my walk. A video of me practicing yoga in my hotel in Hawaii last summer appeared along with the one I took of dolphins surfing California waves weeks prior. The differing perspectives were jarring. There I was standing opposite of California with a healing prayer in my heart, which dispersed into the turquoise Hawaiian water and returned through surfing dolphins to bless me in my home. I had been manifesting Aloha all along. 

I had no idea how much my trauma had prevented me from resting in authenticity. My pain has prevented me from becoming rooted, leading me to feel weak, unstable, and insecure. Like broken bones that were never reset, pain has restructured my entire being. My masks have drawn my head and eyes downward, creating a misaligned body, mind, and spirit. Masking my pain is no longer an effective coping mechanism, something that going deeper into my roots has allowed me to see. 

As a new layer of healing is revealed and a more authentic version of myself emerges, I understand the balance of action versus letting go. I had set out on that grounding walk to receive guidance on improving my healing. Instead, I was led to shed a layer of healing and strengthen my roots through preparation, timing, and intuition. That grounding walk showed me that healing is all perspective, beginning with an intention to heal and manifested through actions.  

Brene Brown writes in her book Daring Greatly that our first instinct before letting go is to "try on some kind of armor." She explains that our "common shields are dread, perfectionism, and numbing," which has been highly accurate for me. These are symptoms and red flags that have guided my harmful actions. To answer my therapist's question, I stay awake, watch for warning signs, and stay engaged with life by removing my armor. That is what I plan to do with knowing the truth.

Understanding the chakra system has allowed me to spot red flags. As I manifest Aloha, I come to know what home feels like. My armor masks my loss of security, stability, and connection to Earth, all red flags for a root chakra imbalance. Going into nature, making art, exercising, practicing yoga, listening to music, and writing have all been critical elements of locating home. They also happen to release endorphins, those "feel good" hormones that both trauma and addiction have dysregulated. 

I invite you to manifest Aloha, your peace, love, and harmony, by encouraging a sense of security, stability, and connection to home. The self-healing journey begins with awareness and prioritizing health, nutrition, physical activity, and our body's engagement with the external world. Stay tuned for my next blog, where we'll create healing pathways to Aloha by exploring the root chakra. Remember, no matter what phase you’re in, you are whole and have a right to feel at home in your body.