The tiny cup sat on the breakfast table. The woman named for a bird read the note written in small elegant script. She recognized the penmanship, grateful for the present. The sorrow eased, a little. Her visits to the special places the Forest Magician had taken her? They remained, the Magic still stepped from the greens.
"Fold in and drink. The cup? It's been filled for you." It was the Frog Queen. Lokea smiled as tears dropped from her ... into the waiting nectar of place.
For now this medicine is served. (click on the link to read the start of the medicine story)
Today the heavy rains have blown in from the south
The Tall Ones, send pollen clouds thick and golden.
But, heavy 'ua kalani (rain from the heavens) dampen their dust storm temporaily.
The angle of our lucky fish wind sock is pushed from the wind out of the south.
The post 'Enough ... Mauna Kea under seige' and the another raging issue of controversy in Hawaii, got me thinking. People are watching, curious, and perhaps, motivated to see how what happens there affects us here. Henry Curtis, writing on his Ililani Media blog is the bulldog/watch dog of all issues energy in the Hawaiian Islands. Curtis is hot on the okole of the ram-jam buy-out of HECO (Hawaiian Electric Company) by Nextera Energy Hawaii and the President of that company, Eric Gleason.
There are other optionsfor keeping the lights on in Hawaii besides the sale of HECO to Nextera. (If you are curious, live in the Hawaiian Islands, and are invested in exploring and supporting other options, click on that, read the articles Curtis has published). Pushed ever closer to the buy-out by Nextera Energy as a done deal just for the heck of it, let's go back to the top of the mountain, Mauna a Wakea (Mauna Kea) and consider the following essay about the wind wake ... the largest in the world, as a matter of fact, rising from the islands of Hawaii, "barely a speck in the 64 million square miles of the Pacific Ocean."
Back in 2003, a feature article "Little Islands Big Wake" by Laurie J. Smith " appeared on the NASA website Earth Observatory. That article was republished, and included in Na Maka O Ka 'Aina's documentaryMauna Kea: Temple Under Seige. Here's part of what Smith wrote in that article:
"On a map of the world, the Hawaiian Islands are barely a speck in the 64 million square miles of the Pacific Ocean. But oceanographers recently discovered that these tiny dots on the map have a surprising effect on ocean currents and circulation patterns over much of the Pacific.
In the Northern Hemisphere, a system of persistent winds blows from northeast to southwest, from North and South America toward Asia, between the equator and 30 degrees north latitude. These northeasterly winds are called trade winds. Typically, the trade winds continue on an uninterrupted course across the Pacific — unless something gets in their way, like an island. Although many people associate Hawaii with flat, sunny beaches, the elevation of the major Hawaiian Islands generally exceeds 3,200 feet (1,000 meters). Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa on the island of Hawaii (commonly referred to as “the Big Island”) both tower nearly 14,000 feet (about 4,300 meters) above sea level. In addition, Mount Haleakala on the island of Maui stands at over 10,000 feet (3,055 meters) high. Hawaii’s high mountain landscape presents a substantial obstacle in the path of the trade winds. The elevated topography blocks the airflow, effectively splitting the trade winds in two. This split causes a zone of weak winds, called a “wind wake,” to form on the leeward side (away from the wind) of the islands. “If there were no mountains on the Hawaiian Islands, then nothing would happen. The trade winds would just blow smoothly across the ocean with no effect,” said Shang-Ping Xie, professor and researcher at the University of Hawaii’s International Pacific Research Center and Department of Meteorology.[...]
From the small Quonset Hut that is my writing and eating place, I look out and see the fuschia bells of the salmon berry flowers. Moving toward fruit, I observe the process and the progress of a woman practicing kilo. I am a woman practicing kilo. Simple stuff. Maintain a keen seen of observation. Technology evolves, the eye and head the starting point, the telescope, the satellite, the computerized tracking. More and more, better and better. Or, is it so much better? Raven hollers at me from the branches of the Tall Ones. I hear. I get up and outside. We do a little call and respond. Still, I cannot see where he sits. It does not discount his being there. Back in my place at the keys he continues. The weather and winds described in Smith's 2003 article are the same ones that have evolved in the dozen years. Yesterday's heavy rains were incited by those Hawaii-touched wind wakes. Here. There.
It's that lead paragraph that really gets me in the gut.
There in the middle of the great moana nui a kea, the great open water, significant chain reactions are triggered by the akua (the elemental forces, energies, geographic, oceanographic, and atmospheric dieties). Humans are part of the process because we are present. We are part of the whole process. In the struggle to maintain our place in the process it seems we lose sight of what our part is. First, we are part of, not the whole. The issues and current protests about Mauna Kea are old ones. What is sacred, and why does it matter?
"A species and a culture that treat the natural world with respect and reciprocity will surely pass on genes to ensuing generations with a higher frequency than the people who destroy it. The stories we choose to shape our behaviors have adaptive consequences."- Braiding Sweetgrass ...Robin Wall Kimmerer,
In the Foreword to the book Ka Honua Ola The Living Earth Taupouri Tangaro, PhD and son-in-law to the author begins with this paragraph, "Ka Honua Ola is about being conscious of the embodied experiences that define the culture of Hawai'i and differentiate it from the culture of the none-Hawaiian world. Does such a pointed statement shock you? Well, take a deep breath, for it is true--the author will not recant. But if this statement seems to hint at cultural imperialism and isolation, read again. Defining and differentiating do not automatically imply disconnection. Hawai'i equates profound connection without limits to earth, sea, sky, and soul" [...] "We, as Native Hawaiians, must continue to unveil the knowledge of our ancestors. Let us interpret for ourselves who our ancestors are, how they thought, and why they made certain decisions. In the process, we treat them with honor, dignity, love, and respect--whether they be akua, ali'i, or kanaka--because they are our 'ohana, our family. - Ka Honua Ola The Living Earth ... Pualani Kanaka'ole Kanahele
The placard on the wall from the exhibit "Native People, Native Places"
Today the sky is clearing, sun feeds the forest and lights the space inside the Quonset. I take a deep breath, mahalo the forest for feeding me the oxygen that was just moments ago part of their leaves, their needles, their feathery cedar fingers. Before we next reach for that switch to turn the light on, what songs will we sing, what stories will we tell, which stories will take care of us?
A day's picking and a background of other projects that have kept me busy (That's the Vardo porch frame in the back L. I am sewing up a new canvas awning in time for the winter rains.)
The 12 inches 'round apple this year.
Family and friends in the orchard for baked apples, chicken stew and baked salmon.
The newest safety pin talisman to keep the momentum of my work with The Safety Pin Cafe
A pencil and watercolor drawing of the Silver-haired Raven with elegant garb. Don't know yet where he'll appear other then in this sketch.
Summer is still officially present until the Autumn Equinox turns the seasonal page on September 22nd. Busy time here in the woods. Harvesting food, including the 12-inch 'round Graventein apple from our orchard. Juggling activities in the orchard is a theme captured in this simple visual post. A good recap of the weeks' comings and goings.
Yesterday I joined a small circle of people from my community to sing to the whales. There were singing bowls -- brass and glass and tones from people real high and some low. We made sounds up and shared songs already made up. The tide was low and the mudflats long. I shared the chant of my home place Aunty Edith's E HO MAI. Passed out the words written on white paper and said the words made to remember ask permission...
My heart is beating over-time and wakes me late at night with its deep beating. Medication, meditation...supplementation...tell the story ... piece a life together, witness ... tell the story. One way, two ways, make a story that pieces surviving survival together.
Today I am here ... hearing the sounds ... not sure the story is being pieced together just right. But, it makes no nevermind, does it ... it mostly matters that the story is told, again, again, again piecing one to the other...beat, beat, beat.
Thanks to Terri Windling for the link to Tracy Chapman's "Telling Stories" and her blog that inspires me again and again to show up ... tell the story.
"...The message is clear: if you want to know me, read my work." - From an interview with Barry Lopez.
There's a big outdoor fire just through the woods, up close fires are difficult for me these days. I grieve the luxury of being a Northwest type woman who used to chop, split and stack alder and fir for a season of wood burning. But, I have chosen a different sort of life and though old friends are bewildered by my limitations I cannot blame them. I've changed so in the years in between. So I close the door tight against the smoke, and sit to write behind the closed door.
The quote above from an interview with Barry Lopez shared with and reprinted by Terri Windling has me reflecting on the art, the work, the expressions that make for a hand-crafted life.This morning I sat with an open 'page' in the space of my on-line writers group. I felt something wanting to be said. Something of a hybrid between non-fictional truth telling and fantasy: myth.
Nimble Fingers, Fumbling Mind
"Mind you I know it is a blessing as well as a curse to own these
nimble fingers attached to a fumbling mind," it was a disclaimer meant
to put him off the scent. Rather than look up and confirm the
smoke-screen I crossed the room and poured myself onto the piano bench.
Half-written scores of melody lay in stacks, I pushed them aside to make
room for my ass.
"Find center. Middle C. Start the scales from there. Go. Play."He
wasn't buying my distraction. Poured more coffee into his china cup,
added milk, two lumps of sugar, stirred slowly and sipped. Sun pulsed through the streaked windows as my fingers struck the
smooth whites and blacks, tempting my mind with the bottle of vinegar
... should wash that window; the cat would love a walk before it rains again.
My fingers struck the smooth whites and blacks. I'm really too old to
get very good at this. My fingers strike the smooth whites and blacks.
A small mouse squeaked from the hearth rug at the far-end of the
music room. My fingers loosened now the strikes on the smooth whites and
blacks were quicker. The squeaking kept pace with the scales. I thought
about stopping, but looked up and saw him wave me down.
"Keep playing."
I did that. My fingers were loosened enough to do the scales with
less effort. Over the tops of my glasses I turned and saw the young
piano teacher pull from his pocket a wad of fleecy wool. He tossed the
wool into the fire. Before the wool was overly burnt, Mouse Woman
rescued her prize and started making wonderful piles of mountain goat
wool with her ravelly fingers. Mischief had been avoided. Music was
being made. Balance was brought to a fumbling mind. A most satisfying
end. Mouse Woman loves satisfying endings.
If you have never read the stories of Mouse Woman you are in for a serving of wonderful magic. I found Christie Harris' trilogy Mouse Woman and The Mischief Makers at my local library.
Can you relate to having nimble fingers and a fumbling mind?
We took a day trip yesterday. The fog lifted for the occasion, Pete freed myself from his connections to gardens, food bank and general shoveling and sortings; I left the laptop and off we went. Our destination was north to Orcas Island, the largest of the San Juan Islands and three hours by car and ferry from the woods here in Langley.
It was a day of breaking free we both needed. A day of just for the fun of it, and time to visit an old friend on her pile of rocks. The travel time was nearly equal to the time we had to visit, eating (the Fried Egg Sandwich Pete had was amazing ... too bad for me I was so busy chatting he ate it all) in wonderful Mia's Cafe. Before it was time to drive from the town of East Sound our friend, and local "long-time reader" (of books far, wide and deep) Maurine walked us across the puddle strewn sidewalk into Darvill's Books. A completely charming bookstore with just the right amount of smatter and eclectic character real (in your hands) book lovers could call 'home.' It is our friend's second home, where she has worked for several years and is now there on occasion (or request) as I watched her step behind the coffee bar to make a latte while the barista on shift stepped out. Beautiful books, a sweet and intimate bookscape of shelves and accessories, cards, colorful socks, cds, and journals blank and inviting a story, a poem a muse-inspired sketch. There's a chance I will return to set up a storytelling event here at Darvill's. I talked briefly with the proprietress about The Safety Pin Cafe, excited about the potential for taking that story on the road, and onto islands here and there. Just a tiny bit of shameless self-promotion. (Just a reminder: One week left to read The Safety Pin Cafe.)
We made one last stop with Maurine before getting in the ferry line for Anacortes. Still book related, we pulled into the parking lot of the library. Maurine is a librarian. Could you ever call a librarian a 'former librarian'? Don't know for sure, but will guess that those skills don't retire or become a former life. Instead, they seem to spread out like ivy potent and opportunist, in the best possible ways. Walking with our Sag librarian friend was a tour of books on foot like I have never experienced, or perhaps have forgotten was possible remembering all my most favorite librarians ever ... Mrs. Petrie from elementary school. Oh my. M. volunteers in this library two hours a week. "Weeding" is what she does, weeding out titles and cleaning titles up so they're in the right category. She knows such things, and as she said since most folks who volunteer in the library don't, this library is lucky to have a mistress of categorization.
It was a whirlwind day, and by the time we made our way down the familiar and dark driveway through the woods we were happy to be home. Not a bit ashamed to admit that at least one of us was homesick for the woods. The thing is about small breaks in the daily routine is how the resistance and oppositions that linger in our relating to others, our selves, or our settings can be freed up with a change. Back to the routine, Pete is working, I am writing, and our ferry fare has taken us off the island and back. Our brand new desk top computer is ready for us. We'll pick her up tomorrow. Life proceeds.
A few of my favorite quotes from people familiar to me via the floating world of the internet conclude this morning ramble. Hope something tickles you, or frees you in some way.
"Jupiter turns direct in Gemini on January 30th. Many will change their
minds and/or their philosophies in February. I think it will be
enormously (Jupiter) interesting (Gemini) to watch....Once Jupiter turns direct on January 30th, all the planets will be direct until February 18, 2013, when Saturn turns retrograde." - Elsa P.
"An opposition challenges us to keep two sets of needs in balance." Donna Cunningham
"I don’t think people realize they can dig deeper and get beyond their
complaint to point where they’re happy and deeply satisfied. They simply
don’t know how to get ’round the bend, so they can see the blindingly
brilliant magic in their partnerships..." Elsa P.
“We keep each other alive with our
stories. We need to share them, as much as we need to share food. We
also require for our health the presence of good companions...-Barry Lopez
Woken early this morning it was time to wash some of the heavy energy I'm feeling from Saturn in Scorpio. Today is 'Ole Ku Kolu, so these are good moons to reflect upon what needs weeding, washing and otherwise maintaining. I found something to help: transformative water energy of Neptune Pisces, a 7 body stellium coming soon.
"Turns out the Sun, Venus, Mercury, Mars, Chiron, Neptune will all be in
Pisces between February 26, 2013 – March 11, 2013. The Moon will join
the stellium on March 10th and 11th – this is something I’d mark on a
calendar."
To get some insight into the potential of this energy I went searching. The huge stellium of 7 heavenly bodies in the sign of Pisces (Neptune) falls mainly in my 2nd house, with spillage (my Sun and Mars) into the 3rd house. Dana Gerhardt from Astro.com writes this about the 2nd house:
...Your 2nd house ground must be worked. [You have to transform what
you find there.] As an infant, this house was a veritable Garden of
Eden. Everything you needed—toes, food, and teddy bears--was
magically supplied. Yet as you grew, you learned that gardens must
be maintained. Vines need pruning, fruit trees must be planted, flowers
have to be fertilized. Earth is a paradise, but it's also full
of reality. Pests can destroy your garden, predators can steal your
crops. If you don't learn how to increase your garden's
yield, your needs won't be met, your desires can't be
satisfied. If you wait for manna to drop from the heavens, you'll
starve. In other words, you have to get real in this house. You must learn
how to use, protect, and manage its resources, or you'll suffer
a fall from grace. Anyone who has a problem with money is just plain
naive about that... Read more
And, again from Dana Gerhardt I found this about the 3rd house and transits through this house:
... through the 3rd we collect a stream of information about the changing
contours of our environment. Nothing-not even our familiar
world-stands still. Lose interest in these changes and your
mind will lose its potency. When you cease to wonder about what's
strange in your day-to-day world, when you lose your willingness
to taste new words and imitate without self-consciousness, [when you
forego the thrill of acquiring new masteries, however small, you
will lose the vast richness of this house.] The issue here is not
what we learn so much ass that we learn. In the 3rd house we're
performing the good work of keeping our minds alive and, in Bob Dylan's
words, “forever young.”
The rest of this ramble continues below the break. Take a breath and carry on if you have the time ...I think it will entertain you, watch out for the winding tail.
I was in town yesterday in and out of the post office, into the local coffee shop and community
gathering place where Pete and I are planning to play Konane;
meeting and greeting my neighbors and friends who were strangers to me
three years ago. Several things needed doing at the post office: a card and letter of condolence needed to be written to my family back on O'ahu -- my aunty passed last Monday; another card to my son's girl friend in France needed a message written and a stamp ($1.10 for a snail mail communication); and finally a piece of mail needed to be forwarded to my son. After paying cash for the postage to France the woman helping me asked, "You're from Hawaii aren't you?" It's been a while since I've been asked that. I said "Yes," and was asked the often accompanying question, "It's quite a change for you, isn't it?' Sometimes, the pair of questions will unwind stories I wish to keep untold preferring to soothe my newly retrained amygdala from inciting a riot of fears and regrets. It really does me no good to light that old fire. Yesterday my mood and my sense of well-being were gently living within me and I chatted with the kind and helpful woman telling enough my story to become a little more known to her. We talked of Pele and the reality of the vog as an issue for me, and many others, who cannot tolerate The Goddess' inevitable magnificence. The making of new 'aina (land) is a powerful responsibility and she, The Goddess takes her kuleana very seriously. Reminders of why I can no longer live on the islands of my birth are present daily; bittersweet acceptance is something I embrace with a tender hand. My heart is bound to those islands and yet I remain inseparable wherever I am ... I know that today as I've not known as a younger woman.
The late October skies and temperature have taken on that cloak of grey wool. It is damp here in the woods as I sit next to the heat with layers of ankle length coverings, a scarf around my neck and an ancient purple sweater. Yesterday in town where the Tall Ones have been cleared for the shops and services that make Langley a sweet to know village, sun warmed me as I sat in the Subaru to write my cards and letter. I recall the feeling of ... what? anticipation as I sat with the pen and three blank pages (cards, a letter) to fill with my handwritten messages. Photographs taken by my friend and turned into cards gave me the visual inspiration to draw words together and scratch them with pen; practicing that craft I have loved since a girl. I wrote stories from scratch and left on the blank page a part of my yesterday.
The first card was written to my uncle(and his children) who grieve the loss of his partner and love of seventy years, and mother who lived to be in her mid-eighties. The photograph I chose for my family was a view of Deception Pass in the fog. Shot off a tri-pod my friend told me it was the last shot of the day and a tri-pod was new to her. The image was sublime in greys, the Deception Pass Bridge linking the grand flood of water below. Almost un-noticed but present in the left lower corner of the photo were leaves of a shrub or tree nearest the camera when MK took the shot. The present -- more dense, deeper and close. Inside I wrote to say we here were with them in spirit, and feel the loss with them across the way. Precisely what I wrote? I don't remember. The second card was written and sent to Granville, France on the coast of Normandie. This protograph was of a "hold fast" a fist size ocean rock at a low tide with glossy sea lettuce flowing from it. Held fast to the rock the two were one. There were thoughts and feelings to share with this young woman who wears my mother's jade and garnet ring. Leaving etchings of my hand on the card bound for Granville I could tell her something about me and my family as the letters connected. The third writing was done on a sheet of note paper with a drawing of a papa kui'ai (poi board) with eight different types of pohaku kui'ai (poi pounders). Onto this sheet of paper I wrote a letter to my uncle filling both sides. I had meant to enclose the letter with the card of Deception Pass, but I had sealed that card. Sometimes the universe and the Muse of Pens will intervene and it is those sometimes that enforce the sacredness of the everyday. Into a separate envelope went my uncle's letter. It was written for him alone.
As I age my comfort with pain changes. The heart ache of pain is as real as a sip of tea still too hot to drink; I love the drink but know sometime waiting is best. It's that way for me when I wish I could be _______ and yet know waiting or releasing is best. I allow myself limited visitations to memories and websites/blogs that present a view of Hawaii that is difficult. One of those blogs is that of Joan Conrow, writer, blogger and nature lover who lives on the island of Kauai. I made my once every several months vist to Conrow's Kauai Eclectic and discovered she has a second blog called Kauaipiko, or PIKO. This post was inspired originally by my visit to Conrow's blogs and in particular this essay from PIKO called "The Sacred and The Profound." (The entire essay is deep and provocative exemplifying the reason I visit Joan Conrow's writing only when I am strong enough to eat it.)
Conrow began her essay-article with this:
"There was a period, last November, when unremitting lightning brought
day to the night skies over windward Kauai, as thunder boomed, cracked
and rolled. Brisk winds swept in rains so heavy and insistent that
streets ponded, mud slid and streams rose, flooding buildings, forcing
evacuations, closing bridges and breaking water lines. When it was over,
Mayor Bernard Carvalho surveyed the damage and issued a disaster
proclamation.
The dramatic display by the elements coincided–though Kumu Hula
Kehaulani Kekua would say it was no coincidence — with an aha hoano, a
sacred ceremony, that she and other cultural practitioners were engaged
in at the mouth of the Wailua River, whose source is Waialeale, the
wettest spot on Earth...
I sat and read Conrow's blog describing the sacred and profound displays that go on over and over across the Earth; and witness the duality of language and words' influence on the whole. The great floods on Kauai, the "disaster proclamation" juxtaposed with Kumu Hula Kehaulani Kekua's words of an aha hoano, a sacred ceremony describe the same event. Yet, the story that rivets the memory of most? More than likely, the disaster put upon the streets, buildings bridges and water lines will fill more print. What I was given after reading PIKO was the Universe, my 'aumakua, my collective resources who reminded me to be the cultural practitioner I am in the sacred everyday, everywhere I am. Play games, play music and remember to play from the piko and practice protocol where all things connect.
Many thanks to Terri Windling for the inspiration to value the gift of handwriting, written as she is recovering from flu today, Thursday, October 18, 2012.
