as i shuffled my way onto the molokai princess in the fading light of a lazy sunday afternoon, i couldnt help but feeling that i was leaving the office of the good doctor baja. the good doctor provides much more than the requisite medical aid that some associate with the healing community. the ubiquitous grin and thoughtful eyes provide easy avenues for one to travel down while exploring fears, ideas, stories,and the state of the day.
staring over the night and into the wind swept starry skies, we sit on our beat up weather worn perches trading banter with the ease of crows on a wire. the so'called psychiatrists couch is occupied by both of us, taking turns analyzing, talking, drinking, smoking, thinking, laughing and filling in each other's blanks when it's needed.
the worn down porch, the spinning fish, the rickety screen door, even the old lady in the other room, provide the backdrop for the office of Dr. steve. humpbacks flap and flop through the night, splashing along in the channel like kids in the baby pool. the slow syrupy pace of molokai in turn lends itself to a certain type of ennui, a lethargy of insouciance (my newly crowned favorite word) that will only gather speed unless visits like this take place regularly. projects in the mind come and go, but the physicality of a visit to the doctor's will always remain, words will sink in, advice taken and the world becomes a better and brighter place.
dont you agree?
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