My voice has expanded. It's unfurled in directions I didn't know it could go. And, in some ways, it isn't even what I thought it was.

To call someone a navel gazer on the mainland is to say that they're narcissistic, self-absorbed in their introspective pursuits. This perspective, I realize, might be the very reason I've come to think of a spiritual life as some sort of luxury. I'm suddenly struck by the irony of a culture that seems to point to personal spiritual quests as somehow selfish when, in the end, those journeys, like the discredited belly button, are ultimately a search for connectivity.

Danny begins to walk fast and it strikes me that I don't know where we're ultimately headed. This bothers me. I'm calibrated for destination. It's partly why I've been imagining divinity as some sort of beam-me-up-Scotty experience. But maybe transcendence isn't about leaving. It's about being present. Life is a performance piece. Like dance and song, the art is in the process. Like hula and oli, the process is the prayer.

i think about how - if I want to welcome the inevitable transformations of my life - I'm going to have to fully open myself to spirit-speak, to a seemingly cheesy-Earth-Momma vulnerability. I'm going to have to cede control - not just mentally or physically but also spiritually.