Grace in the Space of New Beginnings and a Humuhumunukunukuapua'a

humuhumunukunukuapua'a

Grace in the Space of New Beginnings and a Humuhumunukunukuapua'a

Are you in transition? At the beginning point in some area in your life?

Do you extend grace to yourself as a learner, or do you feel the pressure to hurry to reach a higher level of expertise?

New Beginnings are Challenging.

Last week I met a young mom who had just moved to the Phoenix area. The word I would use to describe her -- harried. Not only did she have the normal routines of young children, the demands of a household and everyday chores, but she now needed to figure out where to go shopping, where to sign up her kids for school, and how to navigate new friendships for herself and for her kids.

And it was 108 degrees.

We, in the desert, have learned certain things about surviving in the summer. You do as much as possible in the morning. You take it easy in the afternoon. You hit splash pads before 10 or community pools after 4 (unless you like swimming at high noon) and you never, never, never go barefoot on the sidewalk. We know this because we have learned, sometimes the hard way. We were once beginners, but are no longer.

Beginning can be difficult. It's a mixed bag of excitement and anxiety and sometimes we don't cut ourselves enough slack in the process.

I am  a Beginner at Snorkeling.

I have snorkeled a handful of times, but because I don't live by an ocean, I feel like I always need a refresher every time I return to the water. Each time I go, I learn new things about snorkeling and about myself.

As a beginner I know I like three things: shallow water, calm waves, and a mask with prescription lenses. The prescription mask is a new addition to the list since I had never rented one before a recent trip to Hawaii.

What. A. Difference.

Not swimming blind is a definite perk.

My husband Kevin loves the water and is a certified scuba diver. He doesn't find snorkeling as challenging, but chooses to do it so we can do something together in the water. Sometimes as a beginner, I forget he is more advanced and push myself to keep up and get frustrated.

And seasick. Any size wave makes me nauseated.

But I am learning.

Snorkeling at Hanauma Bay in Oahu.

Kevin and I arrived at Hanauma Bay, a state park in Oahu, before all the crowds on a beautiful June day to waters that were "flat calm", perfect for a snorkeler who -- as I mentioned -- gets motion sickness at the tiniest roll of the tides. The area is named from two Hawaiian words, hana which means bay and uma which means curved. The original namers could have easily thrown in some words for clear blue water and paradise, because the snorkeling conditions were excellent.

We slathered on reef-acceptable sunscreen, grabbed our gear, and entered the warm water. I was still standing in the shallows when I saw several yellow butterfly fish and a white-spotted sea cucumber tucked near some rocks. I avoided the pink sea anemones, surprised they had survived in the shallows with over 3000 visitors a day to the bay.  A flicker of movement in the dirt caught my eye as a flat fish, a peacock flounder, scooted across the bottom, settling a few feet away.

Securing my mask in place, I flutter-kicked to an open area, threading my way around several young children and their parents. A school of silver-colored fish darted around me and I hovered over a Moorish idol for a moment, bringing up memories of the fish tank in Finding Nemo. Yesterday we had seen two green sea turtles while snorkeling at Shark's Cove on the north side of the island, but I figured it would be unlikely that I would see one in the shallows.

Today my goal was to see the state fish, nicknamed the Picasso Fish or Picasso Triggerfish because of its bright colors and geometric patterns. The official Hawaiian name is humuhumunukunukuapua`a.I had heard of the fish when my parents had visited Hawaii many years ago. My dad had purchased a mug and a t-shirt and proudly had repeated the twenty-one-letter word in casual conversation just to prove he could. As for myself, I usually got lost after humuhumu and gave it up.

After snorkeling for about fifteen minutes, I noticed a brightly-colored fish darting back and forth in front of my mask, getting closer with each pass. Bright yellow. Blue stripes. Black geometric shapes.

A humuhumunukunukuapua`a.

Oh how cute, I thought, but as the behavior continued, I began to wonder if I was witnessing aggression and not friendliness.  When my mask started to cloud, I shifted to wipe it clean.

And that was when the fish bit me.

In the calf.

With its blue teeth.

Now, the fish was not large, so the bite was smaller than my smallest fingernail, but the blood down my leg immediately reminded me of every shark movie I had ever seen about those predators being able to detect a drop of blood from miles away. I decided not to test the truth of that statement and went to dry off on the beach and to talk to a ranger in the information booth about the humuhumunukunukuapua`a's behavior.

Apparently, the fish is territorial, especially when nesting this time of year, a fact I wished I had known ahead of time, but much of my I-wish-I-had-known information is learned after-the-fact, a challenge shared by all beginners. I felt pretty silly being bitten by a fish in shallow, flat-calm waters. I thought I should have known better, that somehow I should have avoided the bite.

But, I didn't know.

What Do You Find Challenging as a Beginner? Sometimes, as beginners, we chide ourselves for not being experts. Even though we are taking our very first steps (or flutter-kicks) into a new area, we sometimes don't extent the grace we need to learn and grow. The awkwardness can actually keep us from moving forward. At least, that is true for me.

In the book, The Next Right Thing by Emily P Freeman, she has a chapter on new beginnings and the challenge to give ourselves space in the place and not expect mastery.  Emily encourages her readers to "simply accept your role as a beginner. This is a respectable, worthy place to be."

I am a beginner as a snorkeler. To my list of things I know about making snorkeling enjoyable, I can now add one more thing: Avoid aggressive fish with a name like an alphabet.

How about you? Where are you a beginner? What do you find challenging about being a beginner? Do you allow yourself grace in the space of being a beginner?