In 2021 I felt my spiritual journey had come to an end in whatever means it had been traveling by. This was my fourth risky solo trip with my camera and writings. I chose Hawaii strictly because of a terrible job I had. I worked a freezing cold winter after running away from home at a super store. I did night stock forty hours a week because I was upset at the world and lost. That winter I gave up the sun, a social life, a sleep schedule, and three meals a day. I put in my two weeks with a plan to go to a beach. I chose Hawaii. There, I visited beaches, slept in a rental car, ate strange foods like poi, climbed mountains, walked forests, read Zen books, and wandered the streets through the warm nights. I visited the Byodo-In Temple and made an offering at my first Shinto shrine. I half planned to stay there but the car rental was too much to sustain under 25 years of age. In the end, I decided to return home to go to college with the in-state tuition aid I had waited so many years to be recognized for. One last shot at schooling. One last shot at pursuing my passions; if not, I'll go be stranded in paradise. Disappear. Erase myself to purgatory before passing on. That's what it all meant to me.