From the Archive: Maui Is A Place On Earth

What I found there changed me forever.

Editor’s Note: This piece was orginally published on August 29th, 2023. It contains some outdated references.

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It’s dark inside the catapult while you’re waiting for the action to start. You have to stay calm and trust that you’ll land in the right place, the right pair of arms. I had never done online dating before. By nature I’m a sensitive, introverted human who generally prefers the company of people I already know. Most of my boyfriends were friends-of-friends, and came with reputations that were verifiable. The thought of vetting strangers through my laptop screen felt so weird that I almost didn’t go through with it. But after years of semi-serious dating I was finally ready for deep commitment, and I wanted to harness the power of technology (or whatever) to launch myself into the cybersphere, and find the love that would shape the rest of my life. 

He was one of very few men I responded to. When we finally met in person I felt his vibes distinctly, and they were excellent. Things progressed quickly but naturally, and we shacked up within less than a year. It took a while, 5 more years, to get my head around the next step. But we did it.

For our honeymoon there was only one place I wanted to go. I’d been to Hawaii once before, to sing in a friend’s wedding on the beach in Kauai. The bride and groom were expert surfers. After the ceremony they stripped down and grabbed their boards, paddling far out into the waves. Sharks had been spotted in the area that winter. The bride’s voice was strong enough to cut across the water do you see any fins? The sharks stayed away, at least for that afternoon. I waded in up to my ankles, eyes peeled, taking no chances. That night at the outdoor wedding feast, the waitstaff placed glowing purple orchids around our necks. They were so fragrant that we had to remove them when the food came, or their scent would have overpowered the flavors of our meal. 

The whole experience was deeply sensual but brief, only 2 days, and I’d thought about them every day since. For my honeymoon I wanted to return to Kawaii, but my husband had been to Maui and was certain I would like it just as much. In particular, he wanted us to swim and snorkel. He is a champion in the water. I’m a scaredy-cat who didn’t learn to swim properly until I was almost 25. He bought us brand-new snorkel gear and packed it in his suitcase. I bought a sturdy bathing suit and hoped for the best.  

Our resort was old, a relic of the 70s, but there were penguins in a pool in the lobby, and they made swimming look fun. In the mornings we got up late and drove our rental car around the island with all the windows down. My favorite 80s love song kept playing on the radio, filling up the air with newlywed bliss Heaven is a place on earth. In the afternoons we grabbed giant beach towels and strolled down to the water’s edge. 

I tried hard, I really did. But the waves were too active, too swooshy, buckling my knees and pulling me sideways, away from the safety of shore. My husband stayed by my side, smiling with love and encouragement, but I couldn’t get very far out. Eventually I let him do what he does so well, and he swam off with his mask and breathing tube, out where turtles flew through deeper water. I trudged back to the beach, feeling like I was letting myself, my husband and the entire ocean down. 

On the morning of the last day I woke up early. My husband was still sleeping when I threw on my bathing suit and went back to the water. The air was hushed and humming. A few seabirds dived and swooped in the distance, laughing at the pale sky. The waves were soft and gentle, creaming across the warm sand. I stepped slowly, gasping as the water reached my knees, then my waist, then my chest. I took a breath and lifted my feet off the ground, finally floating. I took a deeper breath and submerged my head. I let the water into my crevices, feeling it swirl inside me, soothing places that are often anxious. 

As my body adjusted to the temperature of the water and my pulse calmed down, I suddenly felt something extraordinary. There’s no other way to say it: I felt womanly, as if I were immersed in feminine energy, loving and kind and so fucking powerful. I opened my eyes and took in the scene, waves and sky and the sides of nearby islands, a thousand different shades of blue. I drank some seawater, rolling it around in my mouth. Tears came up to my surface and I cried with gratitude. When I finally hauled myself out of the water, I felt a glowing euphoria that I brought back to my husband. My tongue tasted oceany for weeks. 

I’ve never spoken about this experience until now. It was the only time, before or since, that I’ve felt that particular sensation, and it changed me. It gave me a deep connection to sacred, primal womanhood, something that sounds corny but is actually real as fuck. You may have felt it already, somewhere in the Hawaiian islands, or you may have heard about it from someone else, and made plans to find it for yourself. The fires in Maui last week happened to the people who, in all kinds of ways, support and preserve that experience for tourists like us. Women need more connection to sacred feminine places. Donating to this cause will help ensure that we can return to Maui and find what we’re looking for.