I am among the tens of thousands–millions?–of Americans hearing the news that Osama Bin Laden has been killed in Pakistan by U.S. forces.  I want to say that I hate killing and I detest excitement over any one else’s passing–but as someone who has a close connection to a woman who died on September 11th, 2001 I must say I hope the pain of her death and the death of all 3,000 people killed that day has been eased even a tiny bit.

As a woman facing the possibility of my own death sooner than later, I don’t take talking about death lightly.  Heaven knows we could all go any day and I realize nothing is forever–

but when someone goes too soon for senseless reasons–bombs, blow-ups, disease, car crashes, attacks of any kind and all the rest–there’s always a human reaction to get some justice for it.  God knows if I could find the bloke responsible for breast cancer I’d beat it to a pulp–but that isn’t going to happen in my lifetime.  It could be environment, it could be food, it could be sugar, it could be…what?  What could it be?  I have no idea.  And neither do the one in 4 other people out there whose bodies, for whatever reason, forget to remember how to fight off the cancer cells that grow naturally in everybody’s bodies every day.

So for now, for tonight I celebrate for the ones who lost so much on 9-11, and for the rest of the world whose homes and families, lives and governments have been tortured and ruined at the hands of Osama Bin Laden and his terrorist group, Al-Quaeda.  I pray for peace worldwide, I hope the troops come home to the U.S. from Afghanistan as soon as possible,

And some day, could I even hope in my lifetime?–may we find and conquer the medical terrorist cancer;  in every form, in every body, once and for all, for all of us.

When Ricky Martin swiveled his hips and wrapped himself in the staccato beat of  the hit song “La Vida Loca” years ago I hummed it along with everyone else listening to top 40 radio so much it made my head spin.

I think it’s been a decade at least since that song hit the planet and I have a suggested title for a follow-up for him:  (living) La Vida Aloha.

But to write this song, Ricky–or whomever writes his stuff–has to come to Maui, Hawaii.  Here he has to do what I’ve been doing since my arrival here 3 days ago.  And that is this:

arrive here.

After that, whatever I do–it’s all good.

And I haven’t done it to crazy rhythm of pop rock.  I’ve done it to the calm and humbling view of lava rock from a volcano field that’s been there generations and generations before little Rickito was ever born. I could also climb that old volcano if I wanted to, or watch swans swim in front of me while I sip coffee and eat pineapple that fell from a local tree. I went to Gossen’s for a Mai Tai and sat with dear friends whom I’ve known since I drank from a bottle of milk. Just yesterday I stood on a shore and visited with a sea turtle three feet away who just happened to swim in to say hi.

And I said Aloha to a friend I haven’t seen in 18 years and watched the sun set surrounded by happy people while my old pal blew a fantastic B from a conch shell.

It seems whatever I do here, I love with all my being.  I’ve never been to Hawaii before and this trip, a gift from my sister-cousin to help soothe my cancer soul, has been in the true sense of the word–heavenly. The local people are lovely, they smile all the time to me–so much so that I think they really and truly mean it when they say “aloha”.  That’s Hawaiian for hello and good-bye, and from the vibe I’ve been getting I think they’re also quietly saying “enjoy” to me–as in enjoy today.  Be calm, have peace. Enjoy my life.

So if you hear me humming a tune in the coming months that sounds very much like a 90′s hip-swiveling head-banging hit by a handsome latino hell bent on casual sex with a nymphomaniac, listen cafefully.  Because while the beat may mimic Ricky’s monster smash, the words I’m singing and the meaning behind them have a whole different , healthy and happy vibe…

living la vida aloha.