Sometimes tendrils or rootlets of thought, like the bright colors that magnetize a bee with a promise of nectar, pull me this way then that way. Ironic that those same tiny brilliant blue flowers with dots of yellow at their centers are so powerfully fragrant with pollen I clog up with allergic reactions to them.
So many things are sprouting in my interior landscape, matched only by what is happening all around me as spring settles herself into the 'aina that is where we are in the Pacific Northwest. My six to eight weeks of woods-bound isolation overlays itself over the retrograde of planets happening as I find the letters to make sentences. Just as I cannot do anything to move the planets in their journey, there is little I can do (alone) to affect the Scotch broom growth on the highways of Whidbey Island.
"...It doesn’t matter if anyone else values these things. Monday morning good fortune follows when you move to protect your interests. It’s not exactly ego interests. What I mean are the things that we sometimes put on the back burner, things that make us feel in touch with our singular selves but don’t necessarily jibe with everyone around us..." - Satori writes about today's sky.
My son and I were talking (via email) this weekend. I wrote, "I'm feeling disheartened." This was about my experiences with stepping into teaching face-to-face, sharing what I really love! "Do you think you have to dumb it down for them? Is it relevant for them?" He said he asks himself these questions all the time. I told him I've been asking myself those same questions for decades. The weekend was frothy with difficulty, death and obstacles left and right. Reflecting on the exchange of thoughts my son and I tossed back and forth I wonder about my need to keep looking in the 'rear view mirror' as a habit. Satori's thought, "It doesn't matter if anyone else values these things...good fortune follows when you move to protect your interests." As I try to feed these words onto the screen my Aumakua Raven is yelling in the Tall Trees above. I return the calls and ask, "What is it? Where are you." I step away from the screen and walk between the vardo and the Huckleberries. Above me Raven soars. Head South! That's what I see him do. What I am trying to do is introduce and teach a culture that is "exotic" to some who are not Hawaiian, "interesting" to them for whatever reason, but ... there are requirements. What I ask of people requires them to be willing to change (if they are fragrance heavy) and, prepared to dig into TEK Indigenous Environmental Knowledge with a digging stick and not a shovel. The practices of TEK do not 'jibe with everyone around us' (as Satori writes).
In the middle of the frothy weekend I quietly took myself on a walk ...
Puddles collected as the ground remembered what rain can do after a two-month dry spell
Blossoms burst from the Rose of Sharon I brought home to remember my Brother David
Spider webs held onto the rain ... treasuring each drop
When I went for a drive to check on some Medicine Plants, I see the braid of La'i to remind me "Remember to Remember."
Head South. Pay attention."O Great Spirit of the South, Protector of the fruitful land, And of all green and growing things, The nobel trees and grasses, Grandmothe Earth, Soul of Nature, Great power of the receptive, Of nurturance and endurance, Power to grow and bring forth Flowers of the field, Fruits of the garden. We pray that we may be aligned with you, so that your powers may flow through us, And be expressed by us, For the good of this planet Earth, And all living beings upon it. - from the Conclusion of Angeles Arrien's Four-Fold Way, "Four Elements Medicine Wheel Prayer Turtle Island West Coast Ralph Metzner
“This relates to this aspect. You want to ask the right person, the
right things, but I also have to stay out of situations I’ve not been
asked to get involved in, which is exactly what I will do.” There’s the
gold! - ElsaElsa
There's an interesting exchange of question and comments going on over at my astrology's place.Mercury, the planet of communication/messages and 'how one thinks' is retrograde in Scorpio. One thing that happens when Mercury (appears to us from Earth) to be traveling backward (retro) is issues get a re-do and a second shot. In Scorpio, the exercise will be deep and probably serious. An astrological 'square' means the energy of two planets (in this case Mercury and Saturn) One of my favorite descriptions for a 'square' in astrology is from Elizabeth Rose Campbell. From her book Intuitive Astrology Campbell wrote, "Sometimes we must develop very sophisticated methods of combining talents to maximize our creative gifts to the world. To do this, we need to be like the carpenter building a table--aware of variables, present with our tools, our full attention, and a substantial fund of patience."
Sometimes, a square will bring out the all-too-serious sides of an angle. Especially with Saturn involved the pressure of 'the task master' (one of Saturn's descriptors) a transit with this energy can be harsh. The thing is, I have benefited from studying astrology influenced by people like Elizabeth Rose Campbell who viewed astrology with this mantra: "When you follow your best instincts, you follow the stars." Saturn square Mercury is in my natal chart; I was born with it. The long-term practice of learning how to express myself with authority (and not tyranny!) is my kuleana. Kuleana in Hawaiian means, living your life responsibly and in harmony with all; in all my relationships.
The Mercury-Saturn square is a short term transit, and for most people, not a life-time lesson or opportunity. What it does offer any and all of us, especially free-thinkers, is practice with when to speak and when to be silent; or, you might just want to put your legs on a table and not try to be a carpenter. Who said Saturn or Scorpios have no sense of humor?
"A new full-length hula drama delves into the creative center of the
Hawai’i sense of practical beauty by recreating occupational images and
messages from mele. The hula performance reincarnates the wisdom of the
kupuna in making things both useful and beautiful through the poetry of
movement, just as Hana Kapa reincarnates that functional aesthetic
through the poetry of the fiber”.
The Maui Arts and Cultural Center is a magnificent space for performance art. Located in Wailuku on the island of Maui, that place recalls fond and enlivening memories for us: First Night on New Years' Eve; Sweet Honey in the Rock with dear friends plus a visit from The Night Rainbow that same night stretching between from Haleakala; Keola and Nona Beamer. Tonight's January 18, 2014 performance will without doubt be an occasion to remember. Halau o kekuhi shares the kuleana of hula at its finest; passing the legacy of 'oli and dance with all the regalia and protocol essential to the timeless practice while also being wholely-present. Click here for a conversation between Pualani Kanakaole and her daughter Kekuhi. They speak about the process of passing the family legacy of hula from generation to generation. This mother and daughter is part of the 'ohana responsible for the performance Hiiakakanoeau. The family legacy behind this presentation of Hiiakanoeau expands with the 'ohana of Nalani Kanakaole ( Pualani's younger sister), her husband artist Sig Zane and their son Kaha'o Kanakaole Zane. Click here to see and listen to the contributions and kuleana this branch of the family shares with the universe and learn how hula is like photosynthesis.
Hawaiian culture and art are inseparable ... the culture is art--practical and useful, and the expression of both are manifest in the flow and continuity from ke'ia to kela here to there. I post this here today, in the late morning of January 18th from my metal chair seated in a Quonset hut in the middle of the tall trees of Whidbey Island. My roots penetrate this place and seek out the ancient call of my ancestors, the kupuna, the 'ohana who remain where they were born. I on the other hand live across an ocean and wish I had a seat in the Maui Arts and Cultural Center tonight when 'oli, hula and kapa intertwine to make time and space a timeless channel. I dream the seat, and pray for my place there. If you are on Maui tonight, there may be a seat for you ... fill it, lucky you!
"With Pluto direct and headed deeper into my 12th house, I’m acutely
aware of hidden or ethereal power, for good and ill. I feel it’s
necessary to tread carefully as the 12th is the house of self-undoing
and asylums, something I understand better all the time. Just imagine
being stuck in a dark well for a number of years. You best keep your
wits about you unless you want to be driven insane... Elsa P. 12/14/2012
" Hide or perish... I relate it to Pluto in the 12th House.
I’m pretty sure I’ll survive[Pluto's transit through the 12th House], so what I want to do now is milk the transit for all it’s worth.
It’s
very powerful…and very hidden.
Just think about that a minute. You’ve been counted out, but you’re
more vitally alive then you’ve ever been before in your life."Elsa P. 12/09/13
"As the propeller drone of an Antonov becomes audible, children scurry into a cave mouth and wedge themselves under boulders. ‘We’ve lived like this for four months,’ Hanadi tells me, a mother living in caves to escape air raids. ‘We boil up leaves and wild fruits to eat.’ In the fields below Hanadi’s caves, rather than standing crops I see graves of Antonov victims. In Nuba, tens of thousands of civilians now hide in mountain caves."
He 'elele ka moe na ke kanaka. Lawe i ka ma'alea a kU'ono'ono.
A dream is a bearer of messages to man. Take wisdom and make it deep. - 'Olelo No'eau
I woke from sleep shivering. Yes, it's cold outside but the cold was coming from inside. Coming from the deep sadness. So often, these captive feelings find their way into the fiction I write, the myth converts the unthinkable into truth. The story transforms. And, it will probably go there into the mythic page, but for now the dream wants me to put it down as chronicle. Like my astrologer, Elsa P. I have the planet Pluto transiting my 12th House. The transit began just about now, 5 years ago. December, 2008. Pete and I were living in the basement "Kitchenette". The years of digging deep, hiding when appropriate and surviving [and believing] we could thrive again had begun. We have made progress with the deep work -- the labor, the kuleana, the responsibility --- of making sense of life affected by toxic chemicals and the culture that has created convenience at all costs. In the early years of hiding we hid to survive. Like the children pictured above, and the situation which forces them into caves the collective fear weighs deep. Unconscious. When woken to the reality of the fear and the sadness, it shakes me. I feel it deeply. I Shiver.
What happens to me, all of humanity, when Pluto transits the 12th House of secrets and insanity is unique to the individual but collective in the culture in which she lives; and the collective is all of us. I did not know the children of the Sudan would show up as I began to write this morning, but that's the way of the internet and the process of searching. I googled, "hiding in caves + photos" and the photo above is what I found. I put it here and connect to it and ride the potential of astrological advice to "milk this Pluto in the 12th House transit for all it's worth."Yesterday I wrote about Aloha. It's the taproot of grounding for me. As I write I breathe it in, and take it into the hiding places within in. When I breathe out the words come and my fingers fly.
Pluto transits the 12th House of my Capricorn Moon. The lessons for me are about deep emotions relating to the 'Moon'/home/nurturing/mother. From the woods where we have parked our Vardo For Two the season of winter challenges us. It challenges me not to be asleep to the depth of feelings that are within; not to be so afraid that I act from arrogance; affirming the ancient wisdom of the mother/earth/my kupuna (the elders of my blood). When I woke with shivers, I dressed in the flannel night gown passed down to me just-in-time and pulled on my wool felt booties. The small stainless steel pot needed to be washed, I walked the short distance to the wash house where there is hot water. Not frozen from the cold temperatures the hot water came. I squirt some unscented dish soap into the pot and scrubbed it clean. Out of the corner of my eye as I rinsed the pot I saw my mother. Her portrait occupies a spot where she can keep her eyes on me. "Good morning, Ma," I wave and smile at her and think ... what a sweetie pie. Through the wash house door it's still dark outside, and cold. Glad for the booties and flannel night gown I return to the Quonset, pull the extra sheet from the door way and set the clean pot onto the burner. Hot water from our coffee pot allows me the convenience of measuring two cups of water to make the morning oatmeal. A handful of raisins added to the oats make a great breakfast. While the oatmeal cooks, I come to these keys and ask for the words that get to the deep shiver of the sad dreams. I hunt. I find. I put the words down.
My people, the Po'e Kanaka, have a history of digging, digging deep, hiding when appropriate, and surviving to thrive again. That kuleana, that responsibility persists. For me, as I write from the woods of the Pacific Northwest, the examples of doing and living the work often comes from the generation we have birthed -- our children. The link to a Tedx Talk in Manoa on O'ahu, filmed in October of this year (2013) is one of the fine examples of longevity, collective wisdom and ancestral abundance. Kamuela Enos was raised and lives in Waianae, O'ahu where the largest population of indigenous Hawaiian population on the Earth lives. This young man is the hiapo (oldest son) of Eric Enos founder of Ka'ala Farms. Eric Enos is my age, Kamuela Enos is my son's age. During this transit of Pluto (deep and power) in Capricorn (grounded and meaningful) through the 12th House, a significant transformation continues and passes from generation to generation.
Enos opens with this thought to describe his kuleana responsibility, his work, his hana, "It's this notion of "Indigenization" ... taking the tools and the structure of the colonizer and repurposing them to be vehicles for our anestral practices and perogatives to be relevant in the 21st century. Link to the Tedx Talk to listen to Kamuela Enos' presentation.
I have warmed from the shiver of a bad, sad dream. Waken to the clarity of what I can do and do believe. I do my work. I write. I research. I tell the stories and weave the magic that is common. Common in the sense that I know there is a source of lasting wisdom and I head toward it. Make use of the deep transit going on in Pluto? Yes. Lawe i ka ma'alea a kU'ono'ono. E kuhikuhi pono i na au iki ame na au nui o ka 'ike. Take wisdom and make it deep. Instruct well in the little and the large currents of knowledge.
I am a curious woman. Long a lover of books, and grateful to be able to read the paper versions again, I dig into Pualani Kanahele's Ka Honua Ola, and continue to glean the clues from her grand works. Today's post gathers and pins together the life work of Hawaiian scholar, hula kumu and elder Pua Kanahele; Pua's daughter, Kekuhi Kanahele-Frias, writer, author and earth activist Barry Lopez and astrologer Elsa Panizzon. Makua O'o they express their kuleana (responsibility) openly and passionately with a Mars flavor to it. Starting with Elsa's recent post about Mars, the gathering begins...
"Mars is a yang energy. It’s raw and male and thrusting. If you deny
this energy expression, it becomes twisted and perverted and bad things
happen. Disowning your Mars energy is one of the worst things you can do. Nothing good comes of it, that’s for sure. Have you ever heard someone say, ‘It’s eating at him?” That’s Mars
energy that’s turned in when it should be expressed outwardly.
Pua Kanahele writes, "...[This book, Ka Honua Ola] is a resource for Hawaiian cultural information regarding rituals, place names, events, processes, and formulas that can--and should--be a foundation for diverse occupational lifestyles. This occurs as the ancestral cadences move the reader to heightened engagement with traditional Hawaiian perspectives and practices for ka honua ola--the living earth. The mele in Ka Honua Ola reveal that word and sound have substance; the reverberation of traditional mele into today's settings creates a venue for activation. A young genealogist will begin to see the wider ecological context of her lineage. A hula dancer will find the proper protocols and attitude for approaching and entering certain places. An environmental scientist will discover that his methodologies and findings are just beginning to catch up with the knowledge Hawaiians have had for centuries. The intent of Ka Honua Ola, therefore, is to expose Hawaiian mele as a pursuit of knowledge."
"There’s a scene in Hanau Ka Moku("Birthing the island" The stage presentation and hula)—which the
troupe recently performed at the Smithsonian and the international
Celebration of Sacred Dance and Music in Greece—in which Kekuhi’s
husband, Kaipo, wears a black, tailed tuxedo jacket along with his malo (loincloth) and lei. The unexpected costume embodies a principle that
Kekuhi says her family feels very strongly about: the idea that
traditions must continue to evolve. She illustrates her point by
describing a dream an uncle of hers once had, in which the family was
conducting a workshop on a new lava flow at the beach. A man in a malo
appeared and led them behind a stone wall, where he had a “full-on
computer set-up.”
“Whether you’re changing with the world or not can
determine whether your practice lives or dies,” Kekuhi says. “We choose
to live, and we choose to evolve, based on the principles and
philosophies of our grandparents and their grandparents.” But even when
the kumu are being at their most innovative, she says, “the style and
the discipline and the ritual that goes into the preparation is the
same. We don’t compromise those things, ever. The chants from long ago, Kekuhi says, are the
“treasure chest of information” that the current generation of kumu
refer back to. “But my grandmother forced us to make sure that we also
make some contribution to that treasure chest,” she adds, “so it doesn’t
remain only a pile of old chants, but is a continuing practice.”
"[Barry] Lopez is, to my mind, the most important living writer about wilderness.
And the defining quality of a wilderness, for Lopez, is that it make us
"stumble". It removes a step from our stairs. In so doing, it draws our
attention to the "narrow impetuosity" of our human schedules... Perhaps the best way to think of Lopez is as a postmodern devout. His
prose - priestly, intense, grace-noted - carries the hushed urgency of
the sermon. Irony and ambiguity are not in his repertoire. His is an
unshadowed style, "transparent as a polished windowpane". For
some readers, this urgency is too much. Jonathan Raban, in his fine book
Passage to Juneau (1999), describes how he tried to read Arctic
Dreams , but had to set it aside, feeling scolded. "I found myself,"
Raban remarked, "an agnostic in his church; embarrassed, half-admiring,
unable to genuflect in the right places ... aching for more profane
company."- Robert Macfarland writes about Barry Lopez
Most recently Lopez has written a very personal, and early experience with Mars' expression perverted and twisted. The essay which was published in Harper's is not an uncommon early experience with Mars, but is nonetheless harsh and imprinting. Lopez says about the story "Sliver of Sky", " This piece is the hardest he's ever written. The advantage that I had," he says, "is that I've been a writer all my life, and I had somebody at Harper's
— Chris Cox — who was an exceptional editor, who could do what I could
not do, which is I could not find and hold the emotional distance that I
needed from this material in order to write about it in the way that I
thought I had to, which is, in the end it's not about me, it's about
us."
"Where is your Mars, and how do you express it?" asked my astrologer. Excellent question. I consider the answers, gather experiences that answer deeply and fashion my own here and that is why I count on astrology as one way to navigate a life as makua o'o. And you?
The Hawaiian band Kupa'aina plays their brand of evolutionary revolutionary music. This video is not the greatest quality, but the sounds are. Linking to their website will give you much more about this band and its kuleana.
The heat of summer has come to the Pacific Northwest, a slight breeze tickles the tips of the trees. Their fingers are sensitive to the company of makani the wind and we who share this place need only notice the relationship to be part of it. My son is with us this summer and like the wind (he is Libra, the Cardinal Air sign) he often brings experiences we would otherwise miss. Yesterday we sat to have toasted cheese sandwiches in the shade of the Quonset and the Tall Ones that grow around us. On his ipod was the music of the band Kupa'aina his favorite Hawaiian band. Except for knowledge of one of the band's members, "Uncle Stan" (Stan Tibayan) I did not know about Kupa'aina.While I munched my slightly over-done cheese sandwich I listened to the song "Night Marchers" and before the four minute mele was done tears ran down my face salting the already salty raw cheddar lunch. The title of this post is a nod to the refrain that repeats and haunts the listener in the lyrics drawing from me the kaona, the hidden meanings which are the interwoven strands of memory ancient people embed in language. "History is no mystery to me" is both a revolutionary affirmation and a sad awareness that for some with the blood of Kanaka and those unaware of Kanaka knowing neither history (real or fabricated) mute the ability to attune or worse, history does not beckon for the calling for mystery to resolve is unimportant.
The band's trans-generational membership and the music that each member contributes to the whole is an empowering and sustaining sample of how an ancient people evolves. Two articles-blogposts entitled "Animal Stories" and "Animal Stories, continued" from writer Terri Windling have stimulated me to call on the winds to speak of language and history from the world of the Pacific's ancient people. In each of Terri Windling's posts extensive quotations from Writer in residence for the Chickasaw Nation Linda Hogan expand the readers world. The following quotes are from Linda Hogan's essay "First Peoples", the whole of Hogan's quotes are included on Windling's posts. They are beautifully assembled with photos and quotations from other writers as well as thoughtful comments from readers and writers who attune to the relationship with All. I've included my thoughts about Hogan's messages in this blog post and draw from my experiences as a maturing adult and elder with roots deep and widely influenced.
"I've found, too, that the ancient intellectual traditions are not
merely about belief, as some would say. Belief is not a strong enough
word. They are more than that: They are part of lived experience, the
on-going experience of people rooted in centuries-old knowledge that
is held deep and strong, knowledge about the natural laws of Earth,
from the beginning of creation, and the magnificent terrestrial
intelligence still at work, an intelligence now newly called ecology
by the Western science that tells us what our oldest tribal stories
maintain--the human animal is a relatively new creation here; animal
and plant presences were here before us; and we are truly the
younger sisters and brothers of the other animal species, not quite
as well developed as we thought we were..."
"[The] ancient intellectual traditions are not merely about belief ... Belief is not a strong enough word...rooted in centuries-old knowledge ... the human animal is a relatively new creation here." My experience with ancient intelligence stems from my earthly connection as a daughter born to Pacific Islands, and the even more ancient links to China whose culture melted early into the voyages of both my Hawaiian-Chinese mother and her Filipino husband, my father. The thing that tweaks the practical and spiritual lives of someone like me born into a society and culture so heavily burdened by 'occupation' is the bridges that must be built to live with voices and roots that 'speak' in languages so covered with dust and illusion. Difficult to maintain that deep knowing with such layers of illusion? That is an understatement.
Here's an example of how dust and illusion and the influences of the universe do spiritual and psychic house-keeping. When I turned 60, I was living in my car with my beloved partner and husband. My physical health was at a lifetime low. We had no 'home' as most would define it; all semblance of connection with the people and values of Hawaii as I'd know it were steadily eroding. I could not live inside a house and could not be near most people. Sensitivities to chemicals of any kind enveloped me in a tight shell. The invisible, the unspeakables, the homeless, the traumatized. All of those tags could and did apply to us. Attachment to the recent past was an impossible reality. Hawaii 2008 wasn't working for us. I will be 65 this coming November, and we survived and dare to thrive. How did it happen?
The dust and illusion cleared when we began to count on the moon for wisdom and a more ancient reckoning of time. Parked inches from the beach on the southeastern shore of O'ahu at a place we just call The Tidepools, we parked my Subaru. Only after dark would be find a space to back our place of refuge for one night at a time. A newly printed Hawaiian Moon Calendar became our anchor to ancient and applicable wisdom that spoke the language of kuleana, responsibility. We had nothing more to lose, and had everything to rebuild. Night after night, the darkness and the progression of light from Mahina, the moon fed us hope one night at a time. Necessity began clear: a place to sleep in peace, food to eat, clean air to breath. At first most people would not understand what or why we were living from a car. Explanations didn't work for the most part. From November through March, we learned to live with the essentials of a being on the planet. A handful of people understood enough to shelter us and offer us what they could. Counting on the phases and influences of ancient Hawaiian wisdom about moon time, we let Mahina guide us. My dreams and my tap root of wisdom strengthened. I saw that there would be separation necessary for me to survive and hope to recovery. What had worked as a place of shelter and home would need to be released. The island home I was experiencing would not nurture me. But, it is the ancient voices and the dust-covered values of time keeping and tuning to the darkness that has led to the recovery and bridge-building today. It is my present, this present life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It seems we have always found our way across unknown lands, physical
and spiritual, with the assistance of the animals. Our cultures are
shaped around them and we are judged by the ways in which we treat them.
For us, the animals are understood to be our equals. They are still our
teachers. They are our helpers and healers. They have been our
guardians and we have been theirs. We have asked for, and sometimes been
given, if we've lived well enough, carefully enough, their
extraordinary powers of endurance and vision, which we have added to our
own knowledge, powers and gifts when we are not strong enough for the
tasks required of us. We have deep obligations to them. Without other
animals, we are made less."
Before we left O'ahu and while we slept near the ocean near the Tidepools, Honu and Palaoa, Turtle and Whale visited us often. Their ease with the tides both the shallow ones which offered Honu abundant feeding ground; and the depths of ocean needed for Palaoa to continue long and deep voyages planted seeds for our future, our present. Time is the keeper of progressions, while we learned and practiced making sense of our journey of loss, the culture that develops for us is filled with the assistance of the animals. Here in the woods thousands of miles from the O'ahu Tidepools the animals: squirrel, coyote, owl, chipmunk, frog, the Bird Ones cat, dog, all of them have something to teach. Our third solar cycle here in the woods and the hundreds of moon phases teach us patience and allowing. The mystery of history continues with a layer of something other than dust and illusion. In place of the illusion of 'loss' or 'homelessness' the mystery of living as human catapults us into place. "Oh, there are other ways to be." Into the root of our being, I believe the mystery is what goes beyond explanation and human life can become more equally extraordinary as Linda Hogan described in the second quotation above. We do have deep, and personal, obligation to animals. We are animals, though too often we separate ourselves and live with the illusion that we are not.
Our gifts come over bridges that are build from investments much like Spider invests in her web-building. All around me here in the woods, evidence of her intricate work dangles between Huckleberry arms, off of a porch ceiling. She invests in web-building because its in her nature to do so. We have that nature as well, and after explanations and words such as 'loss' cycle through, there is the present and it is then history. Tonight Mahina closes into the final phase of Ku, a new cycle of light and dark progresses. Ku phases are times of upright growth; and then there will be rest and reconciliation. The elegance of time increases when you can feel the effect of the heavens when she shouts. The mystery is in learning to hear the many languages, and the kaona the many meanings.
Choose your actions, keep compassion close and realize fiery action ARIES
will cause things to happen. Decide how to use that energy.
Our gardens are cultivated and the first sign of sunflowers are poking their heads out of the soil.
Our lovely peas are starting to see their clingers
(I made that word up ... it's those pea arms that reach out and hold on as they climb).
Now that the 'Ole Cycle is pau, and we feel the filling
flood of Mahina in this Anahulu
it's a good time to plant food that is ROUND, or will become round.
The Kaulana Mahina recognizes 4 Full Moons,
culminating in the 'calendar' full moon
Mahealani.
TONIGHT is MOHALU (the night before the 4 Full Moons) So sorry, I caught my error a day later ... Pete is always telling me "You're always jumping ahead." Maybe, it comes from being born pre-mature. Auwe!
Mohalu is a night to honor KANE, Giver of Life.
Make time tonight to give thanks, say prayers for those who are vulnerable and
in need of extra aloha (that could include you, too)
With that in mind all 4 Full Moons are verdant, abundant, auspicious moons.
Click here to go to the wonderful on-line resource
Pete and I have been listening to "Hawaiian Radio Connection" KBCS. fm transmitting from Bellevue College in Washington state. For two hours while I hand-washed, spun and hung the clothes, cloth napkins and one cotton sheet Hawaiian music filled us. Never mind the wet, wet Washington weather white sandy beaches, warm water and delicious Hawaiian music kept us company. It was great concert, a musical treat to inspire and refresh these two old souls who know that being back on the islands isn't a choice we can make, right now.
Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.
There will always be times when you feel discouraged. I too have felt despair many times in my life, but I do not keep a chair for it. I will not entertain it. It is not allowed to eat from my plate.
The reason is this: In my uttermost bones I know something, as do you. It is that there can be no despair when you remember why you came to Earth, who you serve, and who sent you here. The good words we say and the good deeds we do are not ours. They are the words and deeds of the One who brought us here. In that spirit, I hope you will write this on your wall: When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.
Maintaining contact and connection with the Islands happens in a rainbow of ways. Yesterday for example, I was at Mukilteo State Park. Parked at the edge of the beach, I sat behind the wheel of 'Scout' the Subaru waiting for the squall to pass through. It IS the month of rains, as it might be almost any time of the year in the Pacific Northwest. No, really, the rains are back in force this month so I waited before getting out to make my o'o carrying walk along the sloping rock-strewn shore. Getting out to the edge of big water/ocean/Puget Sound/a lake/a river is one of the 'cures' that helps me detoxify the affects of an MCS episode. This week the affects of the formaldehyde from the construction next door is what I'm working on. Oxygen rich air from ke kai or ka wai (salty or fresh water marshes) is a major fix. I truly wish Puget Sound was warm enough to swim in, aue, it is not. So, I settle for a walk and not disappointed.
