[David Raffelock]

Does anyone have Sarah’s contact info? She asked for a call from me while in Hawaii, but I never got her phone number.

[David Raffelock]

Cell:
(631) 365-9484

Email:
d.raffelock@gmail.com

Address:
555 S 42nd St.
Boulder, CO 80305

Only David Raffelock on Facebook if thats your thing.

[David Raffelock]

Hey everyone!

Thanks, Angela for your heartfelt reflection, and Mandy for your deeply moving poem! And thank you all for being vulnerable, deep, connected, and carrying the hearts of warriors. You all inspire me. Just connecting through this platform and reflecting back on the first f2f brings me closer to my own vision in this moment.

I don’t normally write just to write, or even to share for that matter. But today feels different. Read on if you’d like, or jump to my next post for my contact info.

I’m writing in an exhausted state, at a small dining table at my half-sister, Leas house. We share the same father, who in the last few years has tried to become a father for the first time. It took almost 36 years for her and 25 years for me. Yet somehow it’s better late than never.

Leas twins just went to sleep after being read What Do You Do With an Idea, and The Boy Who Spoke to the Earth. I hope they liked them as much as they liked the dual stomp rocket they opened earlier and played with for hours. The only way to play for that long is to find newness and beauty in every moment. And in this moment, I’m thankful for a father who can play with his grandson just shy of 3, and pull his own weight in the marathon of smiling, giggling, and play. What a blessing it is to play.

My new sit spot is a 3 minute walk to where the power of the river meets the power of the ocean. And every day I’m here, I’ll watch as the river and the ocean rearrange the seabed as they make love. In that sit spot, and in this home, I’m learning what the Great Spirit has to teach me about strength.

There are no glass windows here, only screens that play the lullaby of insects at night and the symphony of birds in the morning. The goats on the other side of the fence graze on tropical pastures all day, and a mother goat cries for hours for the loss of her baby. Some trees grow tall and supple, and have flexibility to caress the ground when the skies wreak havoc. Others grow wide and drop avocados on your roof, to prove the season’s not over.

On this island, native families live in a complex. The elders help care for and raise children, until it’s time for them to return the favor. The complex here houses my sister, her twins, her mother, and her best friend and voluntary third mother. My sisters father – the one who raised her – visits every so often in his spirit form, though no one knows until a little girl’s voice declares, “Grandpa’s back!”

My niece, Kawehi, is nicknamed Tita, meaning a strong woman. The name doesn’t do her justice. Kawehi was born with about half the heart as a healthy baby, and went into open heart surgery shortly after being born. By the way she laughs when she finds her uncle hiding in smaller-than-he-can-fit places, or how she models on camera her new rainbow glitter sunglasses, you’re not led to believe she woke up from anesthesia and a heart procedure less than 24 hours ago. She’ll have had three open heart surgeries before turning 3, and the doctors say her heart can fail anytime between tomorrow and 30 years from now. And don’t get me started on the strength of the women who are raising her and her twin brother.

So while I’m here, I’ll watch the river and the ocean collide to learn about strength. The river flows strong enough to carve valleys. When it is truly alive it impacts the world around it, changing its own course and taking along with it anything in its way. It meets the ocean and you almost can’t tell who’s more powerful. They embrace each other and their currents wrestle beneath the surface to change the shape of the earth below them. But then it rains. I thank the Great Spirit for Water of Life. And the river thanks the ocean for the very same thing, giving it the strength to make an impact on the journey toward home.

[David Raffelock]

Mandy,

I’m down to connect in a week. Since I’m far from home and traveling light, I may not be able to make a vision board unless it’s compact. But I’m happy to connect anyway.

Great to see everyone today! So much love for you all!