(Hover over the picture to read the definition of hupua, the word that finger points to
from the Hawaiian Dictionary, Pukui & Elbert)
"[...]It occurs to me that sometimes it’s best if you give a person space (and time) to work out the kinks in their live. They can be trying really hard to do exactly this. To carve out a niche for themselves…119Yesterday I was out and about; freed up from the isolation of nearly three months because of Scotch Broom pollens! Unless you're one of us who deals with the reality of pollens' dramatic ill-effects it's hard to fathom.
But generally speaking, people don’t like this. They want to hold people close. They don’t want to deal with a gaping hole in their life…so they hold on or try to maneuver a person. It’s human nature.[...] - Elsa P.
Over a life-time I have found many (unconventional to many) ways to manage, navigate the course of my life with Earth's environment. Only later in life did I put two-and-two together and used my love of words and stories to make my own homeopathic remedy: medicine stories.
When I was younger, the stories didn't even make sense to me, so I kept them under lock and key until they simply would not wait and oozed out or acted out. My astrologer, Elsa Panizzon, has written a post about giving (or denying) someone you love, or some one you care about but not recognize it as love, the space and time to work out the kinks in their environment (their life). I think, if you live long enough, LIFE will give you many opportunities to be on both sides of the kinks.
Going back and forth as I have across the Pacific Ocean, trying at first, to out-run the environment (people, their actions, plants, their actions ...) many people have tried to give me their solutions, question my odd struggle with myself and their actions. Back and forth, I would attempt to fold in some of what they offered.
But in the longer run, I have discovered it is space and time that would be my best media and remedy. The short and simple, quick and easy for someone like me? Not a comfort, nor a medicine. Waiting pollens out is not easy. I turn wild and gumpy, and lash out. Ugly. But, I try to contain the damage, and keep to myself, mostly.
While I am hole up, there has been much good work to do. My school, my gathering place, needs plenty of tending and much of it has to be done 'in the cave' learning what is needed, following the protocol of the elders who watch with space and time between us. I muddle through. I write about it. They laugh. They watch to see how much water leaks from my basket. They love me and give me time to love myself, eventually.
I hope to give those I love the message: I love you as you learn to weave water-tight baskets.
And how do your baskets carry the water?