Shabu, the healer of fears.

I re-read the first four or five posts of my blog and thought, "Man.  I'm pretty funny and have an interesting life".  To make up for the fact that I haven't posted in six months, and to re-convince myself that I'm not a stick in the mud, here's a weird one:

Now, admittedly, I have a problem.  I absolutely cannot resist the opportunity to make a friend.  Bonus points if potential friend has a noticeable quirk, like being the stoic Chechnyan owner of a bakery in the Outer Richmond or the affable gay bartender at your friends' wedding who refused to make you a martini when all you really wanted were the olives. 

I had been living in Captain Cook, Hawaii for three months, working on an organic farm (not really, though).  As our journey neared an end, I swindled my boo at the time into renting a car for two weeks and getting to know the intricacies of the place I had come to love as home.  The first stop on our journey was the Kona coast, where our lovely matriarch at Rainbow Plantation had agreed to rent us a fancy condo in downtown Kona for next to nothing. 

The condo was a short walk from the farmers market, and as I was returning home one morning with an abundance of sexy fruits like papaya, guava, mangoes, lilikoi, lychee (holy asmo I could go on for days) I saw a lanky beardo bounding through traffic in my direction.  Upon his arrival he presented me with a rose made from a palm frond, and the sentence, "I almost got hit by a car to give you this."  I blushed and thanked him and made my way back to the condo, where a morning Mai Tai certainly awaited.

Target acquired.  This man would be my new friend.

Later that night, Brandon (aforementioned boo) invited some toolbag friends (no shit, this girl's last name was Champagne) over to the condo to polish off a box of wine.  His friends being annoying bros who just came to get lei'd (PUN INTENDED), they were killin the vibe and I went to go put my feet in the ocean.  Because the ocean was 30 feet in front of our door because, guys, I used to live in Hawaii.

I crossed the street and noticed my friend from earlier was sitting on the seawall, selling his palm frond roses to the nightly batch of touristas.

"Hey.  Is it okay to climb over the seawall and put my feet in the water?"
"You just do whatever your heart tells you to do."
damnhippies.

I proceeded to hoist myself over the seawall and wade knee deep into the water, flowy bohemian skirt and all.  frikin.hippies.

Shabby rose man followed, saying things like, "We all came from the water, so it's natural that the water is where we are drawn to return."

I spent the next THREE hours talking to this man. Post midnight, ya'll. Side note: thanks a lot for coming to make sure I wasn't dead, friends.

After several attempts to convince me to go on a midnight swim proved fruitless, rose peddler starting probing into the inner reaches of my psyche for the real reasons.

The real reason?  SHARKS.  seriously, fuck sharks.  Jumping off a rocky ledge and swimming in the middle of the g-d pacific ocean, in the dark, seems like a really.fucking.bad.idea.  Especially when your only guide is a shabby dude who sells palm fronds for a living.
Vagabond?  Yes.  Insane?  Arguably.  Stupid?  Not this time.

"I just wanted to come put my feet in the water.  We'd have to hurl ourselves over that rocky ledge to get to swimming depths, and aside from not knowing how to get back out, jumping off a cliff into the ocean at night seems like a bad idea."
"You need to let go of your fears, they'll hold you back."
"Agreed.  But this is a rational fear."
"Do you know why you were drawn to this particular section of beach, and why you approached me tonight?"
Because I live across the street and yours is a familiar face?"
"Because I am Shabu, and I am the healer of fears."

Now, this is an opportune moment.  At this time you can either say, "Alright.  Well, you're nutso and I'm going to return to the safety of my apartment."  OR "I could use some fear healin'.  Bring on the weirdness."

Shabu read my palm (results inconclusive.  I don't think he's really a palm reader. ) and weaved some tiny white flowers into my hair.  Of course, he said they weren't flowers, they were stars.
We spoke about connecting to the spirit world and the oneness of the universe, and he never actually healed any fears, but mostly talked about how he was a healer and spoke of all the souls he has healed right on this very seawall. Then he leapt from the seawall behind Bubba Gump Shrimp company and slipped away into the blackest ocean, and I never saw him again.

He was a loving soul, and overall, the advice was sound.  If some shit's gonna hold you back- dump it like old garbage.  I never did get into the water.