Some people say we only see what we want to see in life—that we have selective vision. If there’s something off kilter in a step, it may take an extra tilt for it to be seen. If there’s a taint in beauty, it’ll get shrugged off as being encompassed by beauty as a whole. But some things, left un-spoken of for too long, grow to a point where they demand to be seen. Even in Paradise.

When most people think of Paradise, they think of the sound of ukuleles playing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. They think about leisure and joy. Gentle showers and bountiful sustenance. Pineapples, coconuts and mangos. Palms trees and mountains consulting with the heavens. Multitudes of surfers, riding to the shore. They think about sunshine bathing the body, mind, and spirit, where all sentient beings needn’t a worry to bog them. When most people think of Paradise they think of laughter and peace with family and friends. They think about being washed by the brilliant colors of the spectrum. Butterflies fluttering in the wind, and flower-arranging beauty that’d never been wrought with sin. They think of pleasant aromas opening the senses to an endless swell only satisfaction knows. And warmth. So much warmth. 

When most people think of Paradise, they think of perfection without a blemish on the radar—the sweet nectar of life dripping from the flesh of the fruits—and with good reason. Upon initial observation, Paradise does portray the nexus of elemental balance coming together in its most perfect state, where plenty of treasures modestly boast their grace in utopian dream. BUT, Paradise (like darkness), is in the eye of the beholder. And, if the eyes are plagued by numbness (and lodging a thorn), demons are sure to be the ones running amuck, greasy fingers wrapped around, pushing it further without remorse, demanding to be seen, and felt.

Once plagued, there are two options…face it to death, or ignore it to death. 

There was something in Hawaii that’d grabbed my heart in attempt to squeeze it dry. And I’d still been a masochist by way of my (self-inflicted) disposition. SO, I relished in the embrace. If a tripod isn’t standing, masochism doesn’t fade easily. If a triangle’s out of sight and off trajectory, there’s little hope for ping-pong to evolve. There was a third party somewhere though…

 

Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for more excerpts, and as usual, feel free to leave your thoughts. PEACE IN.

-Tom

 

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