My Backyard

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.”

As the rain stopped and the sun shined on a late Sunday afternoon, I spotted a double rainbow illuminating the sky through my patio window. I dashed outside and took 77 steps upward on a windy, rocky path towards my backyard’s banana patch. I found my designated moss-covered lava rock to sit on and watched the rare natural phenomenon. In fascination, I observed how the colors dazzled and blended within each other. With the gentle breeze against my face, I felt a surge of “mana” (power and strength) and gradually entered a zen state of mind. 

Closing my eyes, I heard the soothing song of the orange-laden Shama Thrush and the rustling of the Kou tree. Slowly, I zoned out the noises of my surroundings until all I heard was my steady breathing: inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. My mind became crystal clear as my insecurities, expectations, and stress from the rigors of daily life vanished away. I remembered that it was ok to stop for a moment, take a breath, and relax. This is where I renewed my spirit of “lokahi” (unity of purpose).

 I then opened my eyes to witness a lime-green Madagascar day gecko climbing the stalk of a baby banana tree. Making myself as still as possible, I watched the gecko carefully and methodically strut upwards towards a cluster of ants. Then in a swift motion, the gecko stuck its tongue out and caught its meal. I pondered about how the gecko did this so easily. It soon came to me: patience. The gecko didn’t rush towards its prey but was disciplined and observant. Ever since I was little, I have always been curious about geckos. By watching the gecko catch its meal, I understood the importance of demonstrating patience in all aspects of life. 

When the sun started to set, the full moon rose into the evening sky. I walked 10 steps downhill towards the dragon fruit plant. Intertwined in the green, spiky vines, I spotted a flower ready to bloom. I studied the white petals blossom and watched it reveal its yellow pistil. Although it may seem small, the weight and meaning of this brought a smile to my face. By appreciating the little things I experienced in my backyard, I learned to value the small actions that occur in my daily life. Either it is giving the “Aloha” greeting of the day to all I see or fulfilling my family “kuleana” (responsibility).

No matter what time of the year, there is always some kind of fruit and veggie that grows in my backyard. Garlic chives, avocados, and pomelo are only a few of the many. Growing up, I would walk down my street with my father and drop off fruits and veggies to my neighbors along the way to the beach. Without realizing it, my father was using the plants of my backyard to teach me the concept of sharing. Two weeks ago, I shared some avocados with my calabash uncle across the street and when I came back from the beach, there were slabs of ahi (yellow-fin tuna) waiting to be cooked for dinner. 

My backyard is a place of self-growth and reflection. It is my place of refuge. When I embark on the hustled life that awaits me, I will comfort myself reminiscing about the beauty of the double rainbow, the tone of the Shama Thrush, the lime-green Madagascar day geckos playing around, and so on.  It is the one place I can completely mentally separate myself from others and renew my “mana” and “lokahi”. Just as Emerson once said, my backyard will always and forever carry the colors of my spirit.