Nature's Ride Just Is

The final set of stairs went straight up to the top of Diamond Head. 

“I’m done,” said Bryce, our youngest child. “I’m not going any farther.”

“C’mon, Bryce,” I said. “We’re so close to the top now. You can do it.”

“No, I can’t.”

I knew that look. We’d seen it before on both our kids’ faces time and time again. 

“Why do you guys like hiking so much,” our oldest Beatrice said to both me and her mother, Amy. It wasn't a question; she was annoyed. 

“Because we like to be active and exercise and see the pretty views when we travel,” Amy said. “Take a drink and a rest right now and then we’ll go up.”

“I’m not going,” Bryce insisted. “My head hurts.”

“You both hike 10 miles when we go to Disneyland, and this isn’t even two miles,” I said.

Beatrice shrugged. “Yeah, but we get rewarded along the way – there are rides and treats to eat and we take a lot of breaks.”

“But this is nature’s ride, Bea. And the payoff is going be the view.”

“That's right, nature's ride,” Amy said. 

“I don't want to do it,” Bryce said.

Amy looked at our children, then at me. “Kevin, go ahead and go and I’ll wait with Bryce.”

I sighed. “Bea, do you still want to go up with me? Then you can come back down so Mom can come up with me.”

Beatrice thought about it for a moment, then shrugged again. “Sure, I’ll go up.”

The two of us finished hiking the stairs and made to the top. Bea took a few pictures.

“I don’t feel so good,” she said. “My stomach hurts.” 

“Sorry, sweetie. Go ahead and go back down and tell your mom to come up.”

“Okay.” 

I waited for Amy and soaked in the view. The Pacific Ocean. Waikiki Beach. Honolulu. The Diamond Head dormant volcanic crater behind us. Gorgeous. I was hot and sweaty but the hike was totally worth all this. 

This was our latest family vacation, the first one outside of our trailer camper since covid, and although we’re a close family, we don’t always see eye to eye about things we want to do, places we want to eat, things we want to see. Especially now that we have a tween and a teen in our midst, seemingly always having a headache, or a stomachache, or they’re tired, or they’re hangry (hungry and grumpy), and they just want to stay in the room on their devices. Getting them to go on hikes with us is no easy task, and we sometimes entice with getting treats or going shopping afterwards.

But even parental bribery doesn’t always work. Close-quartered family dynamics on vacation can be like a box of fireworks lighting up; the kids' grumpiness can set off our Mom-and-Dad grumpiness and emotions flare and burst. I'm especially guilty of that. Fortunately, those times are short-lived and we’re back to enjoying (mostly) our vacation activities. Plus, there’s plenty of needed downtime and recharge time for all of us. 

No matter the occasional family angst, we're very grateful we were able to take this latest trip together. Amy and I stood at the top of Diamond Head, with the girls just below us, and agreed that this was the payoff of nature's ride (as opposed to a Disneyland ride), and the answer to Bea's question of why we like being active on vacation and hiking so much. In fact, much of how we live is experiencing nature's ride in a variety of ways, and none of it is an absolute of good or bad, it just is, and we continually work on not taking everything so seriously. Especially after the sucky end of year that Bryce had (and then how she made the best of it).

That one is always tough for me, not taking everything so seriously, because my ego is always applying value judgements to what happens in life. But as I learned during a vacation meditation, “Seriousness is just the ego feeling sorry for itself," and all these experiences we have as a family and individually build on each like the corral reefs we saw far below us; it's the growth of being. Nature's ride just is. 

Because I Empathize

The girls screamed and scrambled out of the car when I opened the car door. That's when I saw it fly out and rest on the car door, what looked like a little blue wasp. The girls wailed ten feet behind the car while the Mama (what I lovingly call my wife) tried to console them.

Only a few minutes earlier we were finishing a pleasant vacation lunch near Pu`uhonua O Hōnaunau (Place of Refuge) in Hawaii. We sat in a rental car because a few minutes before that another wasp had been flying too close to our picnic table where we originally start to eat lunch, which had primarily scared Beatrice to death.

"The wahps is going to get me," she complained as we ate.

"No, it's not," I said. "And say wahs-pa. It's wahs-pa. Wasp."

"Wahs-pa."

"Good. Now, they won't bother you if you don't bother them."

"You said they were meaner than bees," Bea countered.

"No, I said they were more aggressive than bees, and again, they'll only attack if they feel threatened. Same with bees, except wasps can still you over and over."

That's really going to help, I thought. Well done, Daddy. The wasp flying around us was looking for food and wasn't going anywhere any time soon. 

"That's why wahps are meaner."

"Wahs-pas -- wasps. And again, they won't sting you if you don't bother them. Right Mommy?"

"Right," the Mama answered.

It was at that point Bea made it very clear we were moving to inside the car to get away from the wasp. So we gathered the cooler and other lunch items and got in the car. Having a fear of bees and/or wasps isn't that uncommon -- in fact, the phobias known as melissophobia and spheksophobia are pretty common overall, although people are stung much more frequently by wasps than bees. For Beatrice, it all started when she fell on a bee and it stung her on the wrist nearly a year ago. The pain and fear combined was enough to start the phobia reeling inside her and ever since the bee/wasp anxiety remains. 

Meanwhile, sitting in the car and finishing our lunch, everything slowed down. I empathized with Bea; my primary fear is of heights and I've worked on it as an adult, pushing myself to take on high places when I can, safely of course. I thought about what we could do to help her overcome her fear over time. We'll get there, I thought. In the meantime we'll have fun at our next stop, the honey farm--

"There's a wahps in the car!"

Jesus. No.

Flailing and screening from the backseat. The Mama jumping out and opening the back door on her side and shouting at the girls to get out. More flailing and screaming. Bryce jumped out. 

I found myself getting out and opening the car door calmly. Beatrice flew out shrieking. That's when I saw it fly out and rest on the car door, what looked like a little blue wasp. 

"The wahps is going to sting me! Mommy, keep it away! Keep it away!"

The wasps, I thought. Again, not helping.

After everyone calmed down, including and especially Bea, we got back in the car and drove to the honey farm. Where there were lots of bees. Needless to say, even after the proprietor assured the Mama that most of the honey bees were behind netting, there were still bees in the wild flying around.

But only Bryce and the Mama went in to taste the honey. Beatrice and I stayed in the car. 

"Daddy, why are wahps meaner than bees?" 

"They're wahs-pas -- wasps -- and they're not meaner, sweetie, just more aggressive. Like I told you before, they usually only sting when they feel threatened or their hive is threatened. Same with bees. We're safe as long as we don't threaten them."

"Can you roll up the window, Daddy?"

"No, sweetie. It's too hot outside."

"But the wahps."

"No."

Because I empathize. We gotta start somewhere, right?