Serial Manifesto

Learn what “aloha” actually means. It's not just “hello” and it's not about “vacation vibes.” Aloha is love, affection, compassion, respect, and a way of relating to others. Live Aloha Respect ʻāina. ʻĀina means land, but the concept is much deeper than real estate. Don't litter, trespass, carve your name into things, take rocks or sand, disturb cultural sites, or treat sacred places like Instagram props. Be a good houseguest. Learn the difference between local, Hawaiian, and

I’m going to tell you a story about a special person in my life that will probably embarrass him. But it’s so good and I’m Irish (we tell stories) so here we go. When my relationship of 15 years ended last April 2025 I was in a hard place. After 27 years of committed relationships and motherhood, I hadn’t really “dated,” before. I had high school boyfriends and love interests but had never really dated. I was curious, but I was also trepidatious. I don’t especially trust st

After the last court date I was advised by an attorney to go dark. No social media posting. No more writing on my website. The prosecution is trying to dig up some dirt and as usual, I’m too much and not enough. Seems like sound advise. I took it. Ish. For a second. But fuck it. I’m not afraid. I know who I am. The person I am. The mother I am. So why is my heart beating so fast? The next court date is September 11 and I have the judge’s ear, and from what I understand she’s

From what I understand, the last legs of a marathon are a particular challenge where one is tempted to say fuck-it and just give-up already. Honestly, it would just be so much easier. "Hitting the wall," is a well-documented phenomenon in endurance sports. I joined a friend on the last leg of their marathon once in Volcano, running together and he used to go out 25 miles a day as a regular thing. At the end of this marathon, the resolve had fallen away from his eyes. Even Jes

I was recently paddling out of Kona Bay when I attempted to motivate my crew in a soliloquy of expletives (picked up mostly through my boat work over the years). My coach quickly corrected me, “Remember how you speak on a traditional Hawaiian outrigger. Words matter.” As someone with a background in cultural anthropology this caught my attention. Did I just commit a huge cultural faux pas? I teared up, embarrassed by my mistake, and then I did my research. In traditional Hawa

Death comes close to me, and I welcome her, if for no other reason that I have people waiting for me on the other side. This was not the first and wouldn’t be the last. A rewrite — we’ll see how close I can get to the truth of it all. Every story is shaped by the teller, and where they’re looking when the shit goes down, and how they saw it through their own lens at the time and what parts the mind chose to notice and remember. My oldest son is 27, so that would make this 26

Day 1 - distance training I really didn't know what I was getting myself into when I walked into paddling practice last March. I'd seen the recreational paddlers heading out in the early mornings—a group of smiling "white hairs," mostly retirees—laughing together as they returned from the water. They looked like they genuinely enjoyed themselves. I had no prior experience and didn’t know anyone personally who was doing it. I've never been athletic (I free-dive and work on boa

I’m tired at the core. Like in my bones. It’s a big week. And year. But I'm good. It's good. I see my daughter Wednesday for the first time since May. We spent an hour on the phone yesterday, much of it singing phone Karaoke. We’ll have a picnic and skateboard and play and fall back into the way we always are — kindred spirits. I invited her and her dad to the pier and watch us paddle Thursday. We'll see if they come. I’m starting a new job that was supposed to have started

So I’m in love. I know, I said I wouldn’t do it. I just proclaimed I’ll never be in another monogamous relationship, that I belong to myself now, I’ll never get married again, I'll never compromise myself for anyone ever again blah blah blah. The universe has always had a sense of humor with me. I realized on the drive home from paddling that I was sunk. I was like, “oh my god, I don’t want anyone else. What now?” It’s physical. It’s chemical. It’s spiritual. I literally mel

When pregnant, moms develop odd super powers and aversions that sometimes stay. For me, it was a well developed sense of smell. I can tell if someone has been drinking the day before on their pores and if they have a bad diet. I can’t kiss a person with bad breath, or a bad undertone to their breath. I get nauseous from the scent of shiitake mushrooms because of my stepmom's Thai cooking when I had morning sickness with Liam 28 years ago. It’s that bad. I want to smell like s

I'm not into organized religion or basically anything that has a man standing between me and God, but I'm tight with God. It took a LONG TIME. After all that Catholic School indoctrination I really couldn't even say the word without feeling grossed out. Eventually I was able to come around to my own understanding of things, something more direct, the afterlife and the universe and my place in it (a speck in the infinite and unknowable magic of things with love as my guiding p

I stayed up too late last night. We had business to attend to --- bridges to mend, apologies to make, hugs for hurt feelings. Normal stuff, I guess. It's easy to cross wires with people you love, and the closer you are, the harder it is. But yesterday was a super good day. New job prospect, nice dress, good friends, reconnection, healing, elaborate and hilarious plan making. This morning I overslept and skipped the gym to detail my car. I accidentally exploded a whole bag of

I hold my breath a lot --- under water, when I'm thinking deeply, when I'm painting and trying to hold a straight line. But when we're paddling I can't. I was already caught doing that and was corrected, and anyway on the canoe we're basically panting -- groaning and roaring and counting and shouting. I am at least. We have to breathe: forward out, back in. 3-part painting in progress — a triptych Panel 1: Skull and scrolls (the wall) Panel 2: The cats Panel 3: The wild Mexic