Showing posts with label HA occupation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HA occupation. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Sense your place

"There are a multiple of steps that make a human Sensitive’s life less convenient and requires living by the rules of sequential access. A Sensitive lives the prototype transitional human experience…less convenience more consciousness. Like Gypsies throughout the history on The Planet, Sensitives often become Gypsies who choose to be Travellers not just because houses and walled structures create ill-ness. Sensitives like Lokea Bird find that the seed of migration has waited until the spell was broken."

-from Wood Crafting the Tale


Papa Honua (the planet Earth) is an enduring place. She is a gift and gift-giver, mother and nurturer and she is not alone in her place. She is part of Ever and Ever and is affected by the connection to all the cosmic orbs and energy of the space that Kanaka Maoli (first people of the islands known commonly as Hawaii) know as 'aina (that which sustains us; including the ground and dirt, rocks, growing plants, the sea, the waters both salty and fresh, the air, the mists, the foods that grow in the water ...) in essence Papa Honua is connected to all that is. The Kanaka have been occupied by a culture that values 'aina not. The history of the islands and the sustaining culture of the Kanaka Maoli has not only been paved over to build parking lots, hotels, mansions and multiplex every sort of thing. The islands' history and culture has been infused with the same values of commerce and over-arching greed same as much of the industrial world.

My son and I were out for a Thanksgiving Day walk in the Mill Town. He flew to Washington to spent time with me, Pete and in separate visits he spent time with his Dad. The walk we took that Thanksgiving morning included the sort of conversation a mother values as much as a good deep inhalation of fresh air. My son was born not far from this Mill Town and was raised in a community where he and I were the exception to the rule at that time: we were brown and though his father is native Northwest white, there has always been something different about us. Ultimately, that something was the seed of Kanaka Maoli that lay dormant for the first two decades of his life and mine. I made a choice to seek other experiences and these Northwest communities including the Mill Town opened a world unlike the island home I'd known. Now my son has chosen to move from the Pacific Northwest to create a life in the Hawaiian Islands. He has been there more than six years now. As I observe the life he is creating, that seed of culture has sprouted, rooted and born fruits of a new generation of creativity. My son offers me a view of what it's like for the new generation of Hawaiian who has been swirled with the genes and experiences of the continent.

The conversation that Thanksgiving morning bumped into the subject of "the aloha spirit" a phrase that is all too vanilla an expression coined by the occcupying culture of tourism and real estate

My son said something like, "They (the locals, the Hawaiians) don't even know what that means. They don't show it, act it ...I've been struck by how friendly people here are."

I thought about what he said for a few moments and offered this, "The culture has been so long occupied by the values of greed and control, it's really tough if not impossible for them to know what aloha is. Hawaii is an occupied nation, and the thing is so is the rest of the world now ..."

"Hmmm ... yah, like that's the norm now." He said.

"Yup."

Visits with my son are few, and each one more precious than the last. I think we both acknowledge the fragility of physical life because he has seen me go through many many transformations. He is always the first one to visit us where ever on Papa Honua we are. I have committed to keeping no secrets from this boy, this young man, in the hope that the depth and breath of my experiences can serve me as a sturdy yet flexible foundation. I think he will need that to make adjustments during the next two decades. Sensing his place on the Planet I witness how my son expands his roots. I also see that him testing the flexibility of his hybrid culture. I would like to see and smell him using no chemicals and fragrances and hope in time the example of my life with chemical sensitivities will give him reason to make changes.

The planets, the 'aina, the seeds of culture that remembers the truth about humans' role as part of the Earth's destiny, will know that there are seasons when beings estivate or hibernate to survive cycles of hardship. In spite of all odds, the dandelions, the ohi'a lehua, the frogs and Earth's first people carry the seeds of Grace. This piece is as much a prayer ... saying, "I believe" and an affirmation that "Yes, I have woken from the spell." Occupation is real and is a debilitating condition that too many people experience. America the Nation and its systems of "occupation" are in the early stages of spell-breaking. Cosmic cycles do for the whole what the whole seems not to be willing to do without intervention. Tiny Pluto is now occupying space in the celestial arena of the constellation Capricorn. Big intervention will have a role in doses of spell-breaking in big and small places. If you are not sure of your place, a good direction to look is inside and then out ... what seeds within your world are worth nurturing and where will you plant them?

Mokihana






Tuesday, August 25, 2009

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