She eyed me the entire class. I took it to mean I was rocking the combination. After all, I’m used to the professional level classes in New York and Chicago. This hip-hop class in Maui wasn’t quite at that level, though inspiring in enthusiasm nonetheless. In fact, twenty five women, not professional dancers, sweat, spun and smiled joyously with inspiration, thanks to the constant calls of encouragement coming from our two instructors. It is always an honor to attain a teacher’s notice. After class I found out that my two instructors had grown up in Maui, relocated to California where they danced professionally in Los Angeles, and since have returned to live and teach in their home state. Frustrated with the lack of venues for a dancer on the island, they had been considering forming their own project and when they saw me in class, hoped I might be the one to make their duet a trio and get this project under way. We were all a bit disappointed to realize I would not be staying.

Some might say these two talented women had sacrificed a professional career in dance to live in their home state….but I’m not sure.

Later that week I took the first luscious bite of my new favorite fruit, the star apple, picked squishy ripe, fat and deep purple, straight from its mother tree. I savored the same sensual ritual with a papaya, a passion fruit, a silk fig banana. I sat for hours cracking fresh macadamia nuts from their armadillo shells. This tropical orchard, planted and lived on by horticulturist and fellow raw foodist, Stephan Reeve, is so deep in the jungle that one must drive three hours through the rain forest on a pass often not wide enough for two vehicles (Maui’s version of a country road!) to get there. Every day Stephan hikes down to the electric blue ocean for a dip, rinses off in his solar heated outdoor shower, and falls asleep to the sound of massive rains striking his tent.

Some might say Stephan has sacrificed the luxury of indoor plumbing and a bed for this organic jungle orchard….but I wonder.

There were very few people with clothing on at the beach. There were even fewer people who thought anything of it. We were all natural and perfect as we were born, dancing in the sands of Maui’s only public nude shore called Little Beach, temporarily nicknamed Mini Beach due to the recent violent storms washing half the sand out to sea and my dread locks apparently smuggling the other half back to the mainland with me. Noah and I were guests of honor, or at least made to feel so. Was it just me or did all Maui’s best drummers come out just because Noah, master djembe percussionist and beautiful human being was in town? Was it just me or did every dancer make eye contact, offer an exchange, share movement with me within the circle? Whatever it was, it is not every day that I find myself raising arms to the setting sun in praise while musicians climax thick rhythms in honor and whales leap just off shore in elation or whatever it is whales feel leaping around like that. The waxing moon rose bright above our shoulders, I rolled around in the warm nite surf and hugged indiscriminately so many strangers; suddenly friends. But best of all, I witnessed Noah blossom in his element, surrounded by people who appreciate his skills, namely one, myself, in special appreciation of his soul.

Some might say Noah and I have sacrificed a community to tour in STOMP…but that’s not the way I see it.

The way I see it, this concept of sacrifice is an idolization of martyrdom keeping our dreams ever in the distance, like the star apple dangling on the highest branch - fulfillment always just out of reach. “No pain, no gain.” “All things worth having are worth working for.” How many times have we been told that “nothing comes easy”. Is it really so valiant to play victim? While our Judeo-Christian society’s concept of sacrifice certainly has its rewards, like recognizing pain as part of the cycle, pointing out the silver lining and instilling patience (as well as workaholism) in a society, I wish to point out, shout out, and prove that sacrifice is one of the paths to attainment – not the path, and certainly not the ideal path.

Therefore, let us replace this concept of sacrifice with the concept of priority. Struggling artists make sacrifices. Successful artists have priorities. Unhappy housewives have “given something up” for their family. Happy housewives have “chosen” their family. The difference lies in perception, not situation. We always have a choice. What we are choosing is exactly what we are getting in every moment, and with this comes a gigantic responsibility. It means that at any time we could throw that alarm clock out the window, binge on that pint of Ben and Jerry’s, punch our boss in the unibrow or by all means, postpone gratification for as long as we believe fit. It also means we could have everything we desire right now in this very moment simply by placing it in priority. For as soon as we choose something, it is equally choosing us, on its way as magnetically toward us as we it. In essence, with clear enough priorities, our attainment is already ours, rolling at our feet, just waiting for us to open arms.

And herein lies the realization of this responsibility: there is ever only one choice to make. Paradise is not some remote tropical island populated by artists, raw foodists, surfers and laid back Philipinos which we can visit once a year or better yet, move to forever. But it is wherever I open my suitcase…underneath my achy feet…in my best friend’s blue eyes.

Let our favorite fruit be always the one we are eating. Choose no change, and know paradise now.

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