'OLE DAYS of the Hawaiian Moon Calendar: Wednes through Saturday

'Ole days of rest, review and repair begin today. No new posts till Sunday. Take care out there.
A hui hou, Mokihana and Pete

Passing the bowl: tradition and value

Makua O`o is an active, living description of a human being involved in living with purpose and in pono (in harmony with all). I'm perched on the futon looking at these pictures asking them to give me inspiration to express something that is more than just 'talking into a fan.' I'm digging into my na`au (my gut) to put something ... a word picture that will aid me in acknowledging my value, my contribution.

Sometimes I lose touch with the purpose for being here...distracted by the challenges, obsessed with the countless adjustments, saddened by loss. I forget that ALL the discomfort of a twenty-four hour experience with multiple chemical sensitivities also includes beautiful times, exquisite moments and examples of humility and laughter.

The photos look back at me and I am reminded of the legacy of a culture that believes in working hands. The pohaku ku`ai (the poi pounding stone) my son carries, I passed to him from his Tutu Kane (grand father). I have used the pohaku to carry many stories shared with me in communities throughout the islands and the continental America. I carried the legacy of connectedness, my son took the pohaku back to the lo`i kalo (taro patches) and used the pohaku to make poi.

The calabash ... the koa bowl is similar though not the same bowl, that I too carried to communities as I gathered stories, listened to them shared from the heart. My mother first owned our family calabash. She kept it in her home. I took it out and opened doors she might never had thought to enter. That bowl ... our family bowl was passed to my son. When it was time for him to make a trip to Aotearoa (New Zealand) to learn and share traditional healing practices, a gift was necessary. "Special treasures are being taken over there, Mom." He told me this over the phone. "Well, you have the most treasure possession in your hands now." "I know," he said. "You ask, say your prayers and see whether the bowl is the gift to take with you. You'll get the answer." "Thanks Mom."

My cousin RosalynnMokihana passed into spirit earlier this month. When she passed a legacy of culture and tradition passed to me because we shared the value of the name. We carry the "Mokihana" name and I honor it as I also honor the bowl and the pohaku. Kanaka Maoli (the original people) of the islands called Hawaii, have a memory and a responsibility to sustain the culture. Layered over with systems and practices of hewa (wrong doings) and occupation, the island culture has been Touristized and Adapted. It's difficult to find the soul of the culture ... and to be truthful the real stuff has been hidden on purpose until time and education filled the hearts, minds and souls of the young; until the Makua remembered the faded dreams of value. Slowly, and now steadily the value builds.

I treasure my name as I treasure the life-times of those who have gone before me. I am the fourth Mokihana in my family line ... My life has taken me far from the island, and challenged me to survive and to transcend the very toxins and toxic ideas and chemicals that have sickened thousands before me. In the comfort of a tiny home on wheels parked thousands of miles away from the sands of my birth, I peck away at words that will not simply be idle chatter. I blog, I draw inspiration from many sources, and the name works beautifully...as a whole. I know how much work comes with that name, and rest during the 'Ole cycles of the moon.

I value the legacy of storytellers ... my father, my mother ... who birthed this round-bodied physical me. The ability to paint word pictures with the voice has been a treasured gift in our family. The gift of gab ... yes, and more. The time that is now offers me access to a whirl of readers, and a potential collective ready to make decisions based on a different truth. Words have power and I respect them. It must be enough for me to do my best and not ... wait for praise because someone values them, too.

The Makua O`o is a man or a woman who is given a few basic life tools to learn life. The tools are useful for any number of tasks, and will sustain a lifetime of use. The discovery of living will not pass to those in a rush to finish. Life will end soon enough. What this Makua is learning is to value the tools as useful, if I use them ... every day; know where they are when I need them; care for them when not in use. Then, when it's time to pass one or two or three of the o'o to a Makua down the line ... aue (alas) I will know where to find them.

Aloha, Mokihana

STARRY, STARRY NIGHT: Know that wisdom is found in many places … SOFTEN THE GROUND OF YOUR BEING

As I lay there in the dark, gazing at the starry starry night immersed in soul-stirring music, I started a journey of recovery from a serious illness. And realized that the stars, be they out there or in here; are all part of me. They are me...

http://www.wellnessoptions.ca/html/1/011/1_i11_1_main.html

I come less frequently to this place on the page, this blog "Makua O`o" but am probably more connected to the wisdom of the cosmic connections than at any time in my near 62 years. Cosmic art: Astrology and Akashic Record Readings, life on the Ledge in the Woods in the VardoForTwo, and the recent passing of the other Mokihana have softened me up.

Trying to make sense of the changes that take place with me means I 'search' for the meaning and look for answers deep and wide. My o'o ... the digging sticks get heavy use, they break from use and then as I write this I remember that I have left my stick covered in the back of the car for weeks now. Then, the wind came yesterday and stirred things up. A south blowing wind brought the stories of distant places, the energy of things/people/places in between. The barometic pressure rose sky high and the ions energized this place on the ledge. Last night, or probably very early in the morning, the winds must have moved on ... perhaps to the eastern part of the continent to join the winds mounting forces as "Hurricane Bill"? Out of a deep sleep I felt the shift. It's part of the package that comes from being multiple chemical sensitive; I feel things accutely. Like the kitty I notice the winds coming, and when they pull out so does my energy.

The quote that opens this post is from the emagazine WellnessOptions. I starting searching for an article I remembered reading that described the 'science' behind emotional shifts triggered by barometic pressure. I found that article at Wellness Options and read through it. My brain fed on the information ... satisfied with the reasoning, I turned to another tab on the page and found an Editorial entitled "Starry, starry night ..." This is what makes the internet such a farmer's market for me. The food that feeds my curious nature can find what is needed if I am open to discover it.

The Ledge in the Woods where we live today is a haven of darkness at night. A couple human generated lights cast the artificial glow into the night sky, and yet with small effect we are able to view and expose our whole selves to the magic of connectedness to STAR DUST. I grew up on Oahu in the Hawaiian Island archipelago at a time when roads were coral chunks and dirt. The street lights were few, and one car traveling the valley road echoed against the Kuliouou valley walls. If we chose to we could be with stars at night. Life there has changed as it has changed across the Earth. Stimulation of every manner turns all beings to a near steady on-position, deep dark sleep becomes a rarity and in the process we age more quickly ... restoration and rejuvenation not possible without darkness.

A strange, frightening experiment is taking place in Seattle, Wa. neighborhoods. The city has begun replacing the old street lights with high-efficiency LED bulbs. There's a very real price we pay for the cost of efficacy and this street light example is one more worth knowing about. Here's a clip from the the article, "Kill the lights," in Seattle's Stranger Newspaper . Read the whole article if it peaks your interest in the value of a good night's sleep and a body that knows it needs star light not 'blue LED':

The problem with the new lights isn't just aesthetic. According to Dr. David Avery—a professor of behavioral sciences and light therapy at the University of Washington and the region's leading researcher on the impact of light on human chemistry—the LED lights could interfere with human biorhythms. Certain photoreceptors in the eye's retina react to cooler colors of the light spectrum, sending a signal to the brain that the sun is up. When humans see the blue light, our bodies think it's daytime. "The sensitivity to these cells for the blue and greenish color makes perfect sense, because the sky is blue. So for millions of years, life has evolved with this 24-hour rhythm of blue light being very prominent for part of the day and then darkness," he says. "This is kind of a conductor of a circadian symphony in the brain and body."

According to Avery, "Theoretically, if someone has one of these LEDs or a blue light outside their window, it could fool the eyes and the brain into thinking that the sun is still up, so the melatonin hormone might not rise normally and sleep might be disrupted." Incandescent lights, the standard bulb in homes, are on the red end of the spectrum. (You may think of them as being white, but they're not.) Shifting the city's primary outdoor lighting to blue-hued LEDS, Avery adds, "would be a major change in terms of our environment." Studies suggest that people exposed to daylight at the wrong hours, like those who work night shift, have more health problems such as high blood pressure and obesity, Avery says.

Engage in good health practices … CARE...Grieving

We received the email from my cousin Koa last night ... a family message to let us know the time and details of the memorial service for his elder sister Mokihana. It was one of the last things Pete did before coming to bed, and just one more reminder that our dear friend and cousin had indeed passed from that familiar body I have known all my life. The email stayed on the page as Pete stepped from the Vardo to brush his teeth and do going to bed things. I re-read the message, hearing Koa's organized voice modulated and even explaining what will happen, why it was happening and when it would all take place. He anticipated questions with answers and in true fashion ended with "If you don't already have a job, please call or email us ... thanks for everyone's willingess to jump right in." A voice mail with this same cousin's voice was on my cellphone when we drove into town where cellphone service happens. The same modulated voice with the message of Mokihana's passing was there, too. It's all too real, all true and of course, we have known the cancer was wide-spread and Mokihana's ika was spent.

If there is anything of value in pecking at keys that form words I hope to find it as I go along. Grief is physical, I tire from the work that is required to feel the sorrow and the gladness in all its modulations. Pete and I grieve differently, I notice how the stages of grief pitch up into the stage of anger as we pick at each other as if the fighting will make the other loss less important. A distraction? Maybe, or just a human condition that allows us to move through. As I hung over the edge of the futon reading and re-reading that email my mind bargained with my body: "If I get on a plane, arrange for oxygen, get a ...." Anything to make it possible for me to travel once more and arrive at a place that is already a proven no-go ... the bargaining just won't work. Travel back home is not a healthy choice for me or Pete. We have made those trips and know we do not have the health to do it again ... not now. This is the truth and it saddens us.

This is grief work.

Before we fall to sleep Pete talks about Mokihana again. He tries to remember the very first time he worked on her old Papakolea house: her sink was not working. It was the first of many other fix-it times for him in her houses. He would come to know my cousin and island family would become more and more real because of it. I recall the times of knowing when we were girls, teenagers, young women. We have know each other for a lifetime. Pete and I-- two old dears who create a life not familiar to our family back in Hawaii, grieve the loss of a cousin and grieve the reality that we will not be at that memorial gathering. The comfort and consolation that might come from the stories and energy must come in different ways for us. We have created rituals here and that is good.

The process moves in whirling ways. Current sadness passes and then there is a blast of radio from the outside kitchen ... a snip from the Newport California Jazz Festival "I'll take you there ..." the Staple Sisters. "I love that song!" Pete says through the window in the front door. Yah, there you go. Maybe a Sunday drive will take us into town where cellphone service happens. Maybe I will call family and talk for awhile. Maybe. I'll take you there.