escaping the plandemic to grow superfood & heal my brain tumor
My inoperable brain tumor helped me escape the Pandemic to live on the Garden Island. Kauai. During covid, the beaches have been empty, I’ve been persistent on filling my spirit cup to its fullest with long walks, rolling around in the sand like a dog and letting the ocean take my body into the sun.
The ocean drains me, I’m stuffed full of farmers' market after glow. I keep myself moving so I’m not tempted to fall asleep. My body is looser here, my arms flop around at the sides of my bloated belly, my feet are still numb.
I stare far out past the horizon, my past self is no longer bothersome. When I first got picked up from the airport, I started crying. 5 planes in a single day wearing a mask and I made it to Hawaii. The driveway into the farm is like the Indiana Jones ride in Disney World, I’m grabbing the ohhh shiiit handle as we drive past a field with the Water Buffalo.
“The past is very important. Don’t go back, but we have to keep respecting those that our kahuna (elders) had. We still carry today our aloha for our temples, even though they’re destroyed. Christians talk about God the Son and the Holy spirit. Well, The Hawaiians do that too, only they believe in what is shown in front of them- the sky, the earth and the ocean, that’s what gives us life. -Charley Keau, in Harden, Voices of Wisdom.
Everything is alive. 10–2 is when the sun is its strongest. I can’t drive, so I put on my sun hat and hike up the driveway. There’s no sidewalk, but I jog next to the freeway to the lookout. The clouds hang low, kissing the mountain tops.
In the back of our minds, there’s always the old. It comes back. You have a feeling that your ancestors are always here-always with you.
At the waterfall, I thank God for planting the seed in my mind to take me on this conscious expanding journey. When I speak it out loud it feels like it’s going somewhere. The trees respond by bending with the wind. Everything is alive, the Taro shine hello and the water buffalo coo at the strawberry sky.
“Hell yeah,”
“Heaven yeah, you need to change your language!”
Diosa tells me.
We’re sitting in his treehouse munching mangoes, speaking in the infinite. My only homework is to keep things organized, fix my sleep, and chug water. In the meantime, I finna hangout and find the ultimate routine.
I don’t have a farm job yet because of my neuropathy (numbness in hands and feet) I still have the responsibility of updating my GoFundMe. I raised half the goal of 20,000 that got me here. It’s been a few weeks since anyone’s heard from me, it’s exhausting- all the messages and questions about why I’m not doing chemo.
I try to find the motivation to write, but my body hurts. I’ve got a constant hunger ache for fruit, I make smoothies with Lilikoi, coffee and dates and pass out with the fan in my face.
Ka lā hiki ola
each day is brand new
Poipu has this smaller island I felt safe enough to swim out to, once I got to the island I dug my hands and feet into a down word dog, then child pose, the waves just reaching my hair. A sea turtle washed up on shore. He opened his mouth and nodded his head at me. I asked the sea turtle for the wisdom and strength to do something productive today.
I write up my story, how I found about my tumor and my plan for being here.
I Was Diagnosed With An Inoperable Brain Tumor At Age 21
This all started almost a year ago; I’d been living my day to day — working as a filmmaker in South Dakota, shooting…
Thank God for Lana, helping me get my shit together when I was totally out of it. Making my KOA farms medication checklist, pushing me to keep things clean and keep in touch with friends, but no one understands and repeating the same story over and over is getting old, I want to write a new one.
So I’m cutting everyone off, again, temporarily. The ones who are still there when I’m better are the real OG’s.
I hope they understand. But I’m in the water now, so fuck everything else. The only thing that matters now is checking my balance. I’m staring ahead, my arms are my sails and I have perfect balance. I don’t even have my headphones on, but the music is flowing right through me. I’m chasing the sun but it runs away, it’s dark now and I’m the only one in the water, I wonder why I’m not moving as fast anymore don’t realise I’m caught in a current, I’m scared now and feels like I’m no longer alone in the water, my hands and feet are numb Jonathan Jay comes out to save me, the fire dancers on the beach are leaving their get together. We make it to shore and Jonathan Jay says, “you should always be truthful with how you’re feeling, especially when you’re in the water, in the dark and alone, otherwise you’ll fuck yourself over and be done!”
I used to cry a lot, but when I first found out about my tumor, I forced myself to stay calm because this was only the calm before the storm and if I couldn’t survive the calm how could I ever survive a storm.
Hurricane Douglas was moving closer to the Islands. we watched and prepared just in case. Everyone on the farm moved their belongings up to the big house. We watched the radar on the computer. It hadn’t hit the Big Island, so we grew increasingly aware we might have a storm coming. I helped Jonathan Jay pack up his treehouse as the rain fell. We were making a lot of progress, but I was gaining anxiety. He told me not to worry. A hurricane isn’t like a tornado. It comes in pulses.
I smoke a joint to myself. An hour later I’m laying naked, alone hard crying because it’s all hitting me now. Holy fuck, I have this tumor and I just moved out here alone. My parents are worried about me and I’ve been having slurred speech. it’s hard to tell what the symptoms are coming from, I’ve been off my prescriptions for over a month, we’ve been changing my cancer medication. I wonder if I’ll ever write again, make films again, feel normal again. I hope I don’t have severe nerve injury. I hope I’m not retarded now.
Hoku scares me, barking and coming through the door, jumping on my bed. Valerie comes in with a flashlight in hand.
“you okay?”
I started laughing at everything that was happening to me because it just didn’t seem real anymore, I almost couldn’t believe it. The hurricane never hit, but the buffalo got loose, Don, Jonathan, Kamal and Lana and I extended ourselves into a human fence. The next day they called in the buffalo whisperer. I saged and prayed, prayed harder than I ever had, prayed the buffalo would stay in place and that I could feel my legs again.
Val lays right next to me and puts her hand on my heart.
“here’s a little Hawaiian prayer.”
Ho’oponopono
I love you
Aloha au iā ‘oe
I’m sorry
e kala mai ia’u
please forgive me
e kala mai iaʻu
We keep repeating this mantra until every bad thought, dream and energy is wrapped up in it and ceases to exist.
https://medium.com/@cinimist/escaping-the-plandemic-to-grow-superfood-survive-brain-cancer-494e703f932b