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.
Several years ago I found a TedX Talk featuring one of my favorite teachers, respected elder and cultural practitioner, Pualani Kanaka'ole Kanahele. The YouTube records Aunty Pua's presentation "Living the myth, unlocking the metaphor." If you have visited this blog before you know I refer to this presentation often, I revisit it, fold it in posts I write, and feed on the style of storytelling as I learn new things (or remember lessons not yet pa'a).
The story Pualani retells in the YouTube presentation below has become one of the first-aid medicines I use when I am forgetful, or confused, or arrogant. The story of Pele's initiation regarding her kuleana (responsibilities) and her Uncle Lono's passing of knowledge resets my password, so to speak; I remember to remember. In my way, I create ceremony that puts me in the correct frame of mind to hear my Ancestors', and, open my heart. Ask for the lesson waiting in the wings for me. Make room for new information. Clear the way of old habits, images, beliefs. Give thanks.
Yesterday, I was applying Kanaka'ole's wisdom. But, with a slight tweak. Rather than live the myth, unlock the metaphor, I spent an hour feeling what it is to live the metaphor "Stand on your own two feet." Let me back up and give you a slight rerun to bring the experience into present time. Back in January, I was blissfully enjoying being in my boots, with my feet on the trails; a solution to the dark winters in the woods being sedentary and sullen. I was out and about and breathing deeply after what seemed such a long time. For six weeks in winter I was dressed for all manner of weather, and in the driver's seat for a drive to the walking trail with Salish Sea views to the left and right under open skies. The trails included gentle but definite hills. I relished being able to climb them with increasing comfort.
But in February I noticed old sensations in my lower legs, painful and bulging Achilles tendons. Old pain. In times past when the tendons would hurt, I simply lived with it, backed off from activity, wore a brace. When the pain and bulging persisted, I suspected there was something more to the pain. In place of 100% panic, the name of someone in our community who shared her practice of Somatics with Pete came to me. Somatics helped him to recover his ability to walk without a deeply angled gait. What is Somatics?
In my first hour-long session I became familiar with foot, fascia, and the faulty use of my feet -- a practice that was never corrected, nor recognized as erroneous. Basically, I have been pounding on my heels for decades and after all that punishment my body just wouldn't put up with it any longer. Now, those ancient pieces of me (the Achilles I was told are an ancient body part, like the ancient brain) are going through a remembering process. I waited for two months to see N. the Somatics practitioner, but the wait was just what I needed to appreciate the gift when it came.
In my first hour-long session I was:
given lessons on the many bones of the foot, leg, and connecting tissue (fascia)
became intimate with the tip of my big toe
was introduced to the fact that I was almost disconnected from 'knowing' how my toes work
was coached into awareness by a strong, and enforcing teacher
listened to a voice of power
felt my feet grow into a lifted arch
looked at how the bulge of tendon softened
learned about using the second toe (the one next to the big toe) as the center of my foot
practiced sitting with my knees, ankles and foot pointing straight ahead and over my bones
If these 'lessons' are incorrect they are my errors alone. I am writing from the memory of my first hour. My brain has not yet made the functional changes, yet. "It's not like using your left brain to learn to read words," she said. It's more like learning to use my body, my physical body, differently as I would if I was recovering from a stroke.
The keys to my first hour with Somatics:
subtle not forceful,
slow rather than fast
don't 'try hard'
Beginner's mind
To stand on my own two feet there is one other piece necessary. Footwear. Actually, barefoot would be ideal. Since it's a warm summer here in the Pacific Northwest I go to the muliwai, the beautiful estuary connected beach not far from our home in the woods. I walk barefoot in the sand for fun and for the exercise. A friend and I meet once a week for girl time and beach time. Fun!
But, when my feet need to be covered the issue of shoes is a puzzle. So far I have e-shopped for three pair of boots/shoes and will be returning the last two in the next few days. When you rethink how to walk, the old same-old same-old boot/shoe doesn't do it. As close to barefoot as possible is what you aim for now.
The other issue is the toxic stew and material most boots/shoes are made of. I'm chemical sensitive. The feet are home to the nerve endings of every little system in the body. To put my feet into a toxic stew makes no sense at all. I tried though, going into temporary lapse of memory. Until my feet started to tingle: the telltale sign of toxic invasion. (I discovered that reality when I was first diagnosed with MCS, and would notice I became very weak, and it always started with my feet. Doc said, "Nerve endings in your feet." Everything collects there.)
So this is my story, and I'm sticking to it. There is more to come of course, The journey continues. And to conclude, I've attached a wonderful second YouTube for "Making Moccasins Part I" (Part II comes up if you just let it...) I may try to make my own moccasins, if all the pieces and supplies come together for the project. Or, there is this link to a shoe company that seems to be catering to healthy feet, if you can afford a $125 pair of shoes. Not an uncommon full retail price. I haven't tried a pair, so can't vouch for them. But heard through the MCS grapevine that the were the only pair of shoes that didn't need to be seriously off-gassed before use. Here's a link to Soft Star Shoes, DYO Moccasin.
I'm sure more will show up here as the metaphor lives. Thank you N. that hour shook my world, and woke me up.
Oh, one last thing. About the YouTube below. I love that the script, and the narrator clearly states, "Don't steal our ponies!" (or in Appropriation Language: if you choose to bead the tops of your moccasins don't steal the Traditional Designs, they are not yours to take. For more about appropriating another people's culture read "Destiny: another visit to The Wing Luke.)
Any experience with learning to stand on your own two feet?
'ike. 1. to see, know, feel, greet, recognize, understand - Hawaiian Dictionary, Pukui & Elbert
Spring moves steadily forward. Trees rooted. Blossoms unfurl. Birds thrill. Pollens riot. Cool nights and warm daytime. The moon rises in early morning, sets mid-day. This new spring I live with the riotous pollens with new remedies and old. Like the trees, blossoms and birds I dig into the experience of new life and launch myself. Into a new season.
Two teachers feed me 'ike (knowledge) to fold into myself. I listen again to Pualani Kanaka'ole Kanahele speak about The Living Earth, and her book Ka Honua Ola. She reminds me to remember, and practice several things: genealogy is exciting, and important; chants are timeless; 'ike comes in waves ... she needed decades to understand the Kumulipo (The Hawaiian Creation Chant); lessons were taught subtlely; Trust is vital ... and so much more.
"[...]Entering the world of ancestral memory requires a certain mindset. Take time to enjoy and understand each phrase or line before going on. Remember, this gift took many lifetimes to wrap. Don't be in a hurry to unwrap it and becoming frustrated in doing so. The meaning and force of ancestral knowledge will unfold precept upon precept, and each has a code to inspire you on to the next level.[...]"
Listening and watching Kanahele as she and the interviewer are seated along the slope of Pele in action, with an 'ole moon in the heavens, the power of place and enduring gift-giving and reciprocity is massaged into the viewer. We are given reasons to trust in the present unfoldings, softening our ground, and slowly and personally dig deeply for the roots of The Living Earth.
The other teacher fed me through an interview published in the April edition of Sun Magazine. Robin Wall Kimmerer answered questions posed by freelance journalist Leath Tonino about her life as an Indigenous scientist living and teaching two ways of knowing. In equal and different versions of sharing their experiences as Indigenous teachers, Kimmerer and Kanahele reinforce my trust in living now. I am a grateful learner of Kimmerer's work and writing. The interview was a spring treat to enjoy in compact form, encapsulating the subtle and powerful nature of teaching from an Indigenous voice.
The entire interview is well-worth the investment of a thoughtful read, and mulling. But a few choice questions and answers beckon me. (I have edited Kimmerer's answers.)
Tonino asks: You've said that an indigenous elder might see the scientific method, which asks a direct question, as disrespectful. Why? Kimmerer: Because the organism being questioned has its own intentions, its own agency in the world. It is rude of us to prod this sovereign being and ask: How come you're doing that? ...living that way?...that color? How come ..." To someone who views each organism as a potial teacher, this type of pushy questioning is just plain rude...We don't need to know how something works. We need to know that it works to keep natural systems intact. We should remember that our curiosity exists in the human realm. It's sometimes said that we humans are the "youngest brothers of creation." We haven't been around very long, and we should be humble and pay attention..."
I relished the followup question, and Kimmerer's answer. Tonino: If asking a direct question of the natural world is disrespectful, what's the alternative? Kimmerer: We can find creative ways of pursuing inquiry that are courteous and delicate and don't demand information but instead search for it... Patience and commitment are the key to learning from a being or a place. Unfortunately the institutions of science don't commonly make room for the slow, steady approach."
The interview between Tonino and Kimmerer is skillfully inclusive of the value of the scientific method of knowing. When asked about the two different ways of knowing -- the traditional knowledge and science:
Tonino: Returning to the question of synthesizing science and traditional knowledge: Are there arguments for keeping these ways of knowing separate and, in a sense, pure? Kimmerer: Absolutely. I am not talking about blending knowledge. With blending, you're left with neither of the original elements. They both disappear. Instead of blending, we need knowledge symbiosis, or relationship. I think of the metaphor of the Three Sisters garden. When you plant the Three sisters--corn, beans, and squash-- together, they complement one another and produce more nourishment than if they were grown in isolation..."
Closing the interview Tonino asks Kimmerer how frustration and anger fueled her work. I eagerly read her answer.
Tonino: On the whole, your writing is hopeful and celebratory. To what degree have frustration and anger also fueled your work? Kimmerer: I remember being acutely disappointed when what I thought was important about plants growing up was dismissed by the scientific establishment. I remember wanting to know more about Potawatomi culture as a young person, and my family saying, "We can't tell you. We don't know it anymore." our heritage had been taken away from us by the Carlisle Indian School. It was one of many such brainwashing institutions. I remember being outraged by this as a child. I wanted to know why, if they could build a school that taught us not to be Indian, we couldn't build a school tht taught us to reclaim that heritage. Loss and anger can be powerful creative forces. My work with the Center for Native Peoples and the Environment comes from the outrage I felt as a girl. I wanted to created opportunities for that reclamation."
My journey of decolonization is a life-long journey. I continue to discover where I have hidden my self in attempts to 'blend-in' rather than grow as a sovereign being. In fits and starts, and bursts of insight I uncover the roots that lie just under the surface of my person, under my living earth. A visit to The Wing Luke museum leads me straight into the culture I have denied; my ancestors tattoo me with their 'ike. The inks find my blood, and flow differently. As I continue to live with this powerful subtle current, the symptoms and remedies for living with MCS teach me to observe and express the inexhaustible passion for being on this Living Earth. It's NOT always pretty, now easy, sometimes cruel and often messy. But. The roots endure; sometimes a seed is not enough to sustain or flourish. Digging deep or power-filled language, such as the Potawatomi word puhpowee, which means "the force that causes mushrooms to rise up out of the earth at night" is the power necessary.
I am a creator. I create story that is both mine and every blood. It is medicine, and homeopathic in its affect: subtle. Subtle because it works with my body AT THE MOMENT. It is in many ways a traditional and slower form of remedy that tattoos me internally. Can you see it on my skin as a form of self-identification? No. Could you see it if you could read my blood, or read my work ... the medicine stories? Perhaps.
The medicine is in the stone, in the calcium of barnacle, the patterns left on shells from the tannins of tree bark mashed with the tide, shells left after birds have feasted on the flesh; or it is in the shape of an incidental discover of a stone like the 'never-endingness' of an 'Ole Pau Po. The message is transmitted to those who are in the know. In the 'ike.
My daughter-in-law emailed me after I sent her the message stones (pictured above). She asked: are you chamane? what is the Hawaiian word? I replied and said, 'No, I am not a shaman. The Hawaiian word might be kahuna. I am not kahuna. I am a makua o'o a maturing human being, hopefully getting a little wiser with time.'
I sent her more messages on clam shells found at the Muliwai. Never underestimate the power of subtle.
Hover over the pictures to discover a few thoughts about making homemade ceremony.
The many weeks of illness has slowed me, and to a few friends I tell them I have a new name, a new identity. "Call me Wild Snail," I tell them. Slowed way way down, inspired by the writing of Elisabeth Tova Bailey's The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating,Terri Windling's posts onillness and the border lands with its many definitions,and my own project writing and recording my medicine stories I find myself at the edges again. It's fitting to acknowledge the feel of the edges at this time of the Autumnal Equinox when light and dark are equal. My Ancestral stories fuel me practices to anchor me with ceremony. Though we are across the ocean from the Piko o Wakea at the equator, and on the islands of my birth, translations and homemade versions of respectful ceremony make their way to where we live.
One of my most respected teachers reaches me across the waves of the internet. She is Pualanai Kanaka'ole Kanahele. Again and again I find Pua's messages, and her passion for Hawaiian Culture and practices via the canoe of cybernetics. How wise are our Ancestors to embrace what is good and new and include these things in the calabash for surviving and thriving. My dear old friend Joan sent me a link to a TEDX talk with Pua last week. I assumed (wrongly) that I had already watched and listened this this lesson. When I click and watched I was treated to one more gift of connection. The connection in time to make the most of the Equinox. It was an opportunity to make homemade ceremony, and build meaningful connection. Below is the link to Dr. Pualani Kanaka'ole Kanahele speaking of Ha'ena the Intense Breath of Life/the Sun.
We give recognition and thanks from where we live. Into the water, I offered gifts of life, and asked for renewal as the time of peace (Makahiki) approaches. We are at the edge, the border between Summer and Fall and the Harvest. To acknowledge the value of a wild snail such as the role I find myself living I see and feel the power and the humility of it all.
"There is a crisis theme surrounding any quarter Moon phase, as we feel compelled to take action. Shortly after, we are made aware of how our actions affect those close to us, perhaps through trial and error. Whatever project or initiative we began around the New Moon is now off the ground, and it may face its first obstacles."
Heavy rain last night emptied the healing waters of Kane all over us. The sun is bright, and strong through the rippling wall of clear plastic that is our Quonset's North East facing side. By Kaulana Mahina's tracking, these are the 'Ole Moons the quarter Moon phases. During these moon phases I have learned through practice and experience not to begin new projects and to attend to what has already begun. The commentary from Cafe Astrology was a bit of calling for help on my part. We are in the middle of another 'crisis theme' as described and I am sorting through the 'how our actions affect those close to us' bit. A new awareness lit for me as I read the commentary (as depicted in the glyphs). In a First Quarter Moon the Sun squares the Moon. 'Squares create tension like legs on a table square the table top to hold it up.
Astrology is one of my primary sources for deconstructing and reconstructing my world. I have come to see it as a de- and re-construction process thanks to my connections with Hawaiian practitioners like Kalei Nu'uhiwa and Dr. Pualani Kanahele. Through their scholarship and the accessibility of the Internet's cyberlibrary I source the legacy of my ancient Hawaiian creation myth and learn (through these practitioners' translations). Nu'uhiwa aptly describes these translations in her presentation "Papaku Makawalu." Astrology is my regular observational practice of the natural re-occurrences in the sky, or in Hawaiian, Papa Huli Lani
If you look closely three thin and snaking Bracken ferns are unfurling, makawalu-ing.
I took this photo the other day, during the 'ole moons.
In this close-up shot the imagery speaks loudly to the action of each fern leaflet being a universe of its own ... potential to become more over this season (and the long season over the backbone of time)
In the process of unfurling, or living the life that is mine here in the woods I see that our tiny homes arrangement was the unfolding dream bred from survivors of seafarers and land-based farmers. Pete and I have the DNA of very different beginnings. When we experience the seasonal shifts, as we are now with the Equinox unfurling spring, we adapt to our environment with an inherent difference. To survive our ancestors did different things; they in turn have passed those behaviors down the string of heredity.
This post will ramble and buckle as I attempt to make sense of it even as I am going through it. If I will maintain my focus on the original quote about the quality of a Quarter Moon phase, I find this clue: "Whatever project or initiative we began around the New Moon is now off the ground, and it may face its first obstacles."
The clue offers me this insight ... the raging pollens' early unset during the New Moon on March 20th and the need for me to have unexpected dental surgery delayed a planned event. I made a choice to cancel a storytelling and teaching gathering. I slowed things down. Pete does not slow down. Spring is literally his choice of action. He can't wait to be more active, and be active with as many people as possible. The challenge is to be aware of how our very different native survival techniques are addressed.
The clash happens. Pete's Libra Moon needs company and many people to be satisfied. My Capricorn Moon is conservative and finds satisfaction from digging, alone. I need to remember this, these Quarter Moon/'Ole Phases give me a chance to understand how to keep my soul close without turning black when Pete's very different needs overshadow.
How to make sense of it: Lawe i ka ma'alea a ku'ono'ono Take wisdom and make it deep. Between us we love to explore the deep and far-reaching potential found in the practices like Papaku Makawalu. Somewhere between the differences of styles we have there is room for understanding. I find ways to breathe the deep breaths to clear my mind, and feed it oxygen. Flushing the pollens with snorts of salt water the memories of my sea-faring ancestors make room for adaptation today. Out and about as he is today the many contacts (makawalu) Pete makes will feed him as needed.
Reflecting on the moon, I remember that she dances and moves regularly around Earth giving light and darkness equal time. Her body affects mine. I observe and notice. I employ the potential to forgive myself when I explode in anger; and be compassionate as I slip on those banana peels of judgment and impatience.
Today and tonight the Moon is in her own sign, Cancer. Settle in.
"... The placenta is a beautiful organ. It is the only organ that develops and grows within another organ. It is responsible for growing a healthy baby. It is the bridge between a mother and her baby in the womb. In some cultures, it is called the called bucha-co-satthi, meaning baby's friend.(1) Others see the placenta as the baby's protective older sibling.(2) For these reasons alone, it is unique, amazing and beautiful.
The baby and the placenta are made from the same cells, which are formed through combination of the egg and the sperm. Once implantation occurs on about day six after fertilization, the gestation period begins and the fertilized egg and the placenta begin to develop separately, still connected. The placenta stays attached to the uterine wall while the fetus has the ability to move around the uterus.
The placenta is the fetus's only source of food, blood, oxygen, vitamins and nutrients. All of these vital resources are carried from placenta to fetus via the cord. These resources come from the mother's bloodstream, which is why a healthy nutritious balance of whole foods is so important during pregnancy. Iron is especially important because iron increases the hemoglobin level in the blood; hemoglobin carries oxygen in the body. Once the baby is born and the cord stops pulsing, that baby is no longer getting its oxygen from the placenta. When baby takes a first breath, the lungs begin to work and baby begins breathing on his or her own. In order for the baby to receive all the blood and oxygen required, the cord must stop pulsing before being cut..."
After a post like this one, I have given myself the gift of appreciating and reflecting after the birth. Pete and I have been watching the series Call the Midwife, based on the best-selling memoirs of the late Jennifer Worth. The characters and the depiction of families, women, nurses and nuns specifically, delivering children in the East-end London of post WWII and into the 1950's is very much a re-winding of history for baby boomers like my husband and me. So many of the episodes flag similar circumstances that influenced Pete's Midwest America and my occupied Hawaiian Islands early years. Both of us born in the mid 1940's (in hospitals delivered by male doctors) the setting for the series: working class life, the choices women made, and mostly, the lack of choice when it came to having children juxtapositioned with the cigarette smoking medical doctor who marries a former nun left me fertile with memories of newborns and their mothers, ripened dreams and visits from the ancestors and in particular it was Haumea. In no small measure the marathon viewing of births factored into the very personal midwifery of my child Kainoa.
Pete and I created no children, but the life we create together and separately feels very much a procreative experience. Without our joining I suspect life would have been very different. Here in the wet and windy woods of Langley on Whidbey Island the placenta or Haumea that sustained for those forty years is released from me. "In order for the baby to receive all the blood and oxygen required, the cord must stop pulsing before being cut..." And so, it is.
Who is Haumea?
Pualani Kanakaole Kanahele's book Ka Honua Ola "is a tool to fuel a consciousness for things culturally Hawaiian (because) Culture anchors a people to a space-based reality ... and promotes cultural delineation rather than cultural blurring, for blurring paves the way for disengagement, cultural neglect, and a redistribution of resources. And once accountability is lost, assets are reallocated and stewardship of our land, oceans, sun, moon and stars shifts to none-Hawaiians." Beginning with that platform Kanahele's tool, Ka Honua Ola a book composed of 'oli ancient chants starts with genealogy family lineage. The lineage begins with Haumea, the chant "Haumea laua'o Moemoea'ali'i" one of the many "mo'oku'auhau of the earth family. Its purpose is to establish birthright and family lineage to earthbound parents...Haumea is the Hawaiian dominant matrix of all things born."
Kalei Nu'uhewi asks the question "Who is Haumea?" and answers with the excellent and evocative answer found on this video. The answer is big, and encompassing, and filled with potential. Haumea is potential, Potential with a capital "P" Haumea is female. Through chant, again, the demand and the opportunity (potential) is in delineating or clarifying rather than blurring ones reality. Both these women (Kanakaole and Nu'uhewi) mean to clarify the role of sacred birth and the sack or placenta in which all earth humans begin life. A very ancient name for placenta in Hawaiian is Haumea.
Swimming free in moana nui akea (the wide open, expansive ocean)
As this wettest of winter months proves worthy of its descriptors it was easy, too easy, to slip into a sadness that was a mush of old regrets mixed with the soggy season of long dark hours. We are after all still ten days away from Solstice. I am an aging woman who has birthed many stories to care for myself where there were no midwives who could tend to the soul loss begun during the centuries preceding my own birth. Using the gift for hearing stories that demand to be heard, and the oddly auspicious timing for my birth (born without knowledge of mother tongues/'Olelo Hawaii) I have not lost the ability to remember the "poetic devices" typical of my Hawaiian kupuna. Many years ago I foundered in my search for meaning my copy of the Hawaiian Dictionary lit by the old deck lamp in our Birch paneled study I asked my cousin for help. She could have given me any number of directives or suggestions. She left me with this, "Your na'au guts may remember what your mind doesn't." The memory is genetic and it is marked with the character of a mele 'au 'a or 'chant refusing a request'. I take this to mean that once I opened to the search that is no stopping.
One of the gifts that have come to me since the birthing of Kainoa is a piece of writing my son sent to me. "Prophet of the Earth Overtuned: Ke'aulumoku on Early Contact in Hawai'i " by John Charlot first appeared in the excellent French of Jean-Francois Bar: Charlot 1992. Both versions are based on a lecture. The heading "Swimming moana nui akea" is my choice of words that pin together poetically and literally what happens when I the deep sea diver Scorpio-Mercury pushes off (squares) the long-term actions of Saturn-Mars and Pluto in the quadrant of the heavens that identify with family legacy and procreation or sex. Astrologically I am saying 'I was born to explore and communicate about deep connections over time. My purpose is to learn from the past and leave a legacy that can be applied in the future.' Moana means the large open ocean. Nui simply expands that sense ... bigger. The ocean external is the ocean internal; they are one and the same. To swim one leads to swimming the other.
My son lives in France, near Paris. He works in Paris and teaches in Paris. Across two oceans from Hawaii, he sends me writing that serves as another significant vessel for crossing the mythic and the deeply truth-based ocean. I eat it and the words serve me. I read this:
"The chief Ke'aulumoku, 'The Lava that Makes the Land Grow', was born in 1715 or 1716 on the Hamakua coast of the windward size of the island of Maui. He died in 1784 in Kohala, on the leeward side of the big island of Hawai'i. His life thus spanned the last decades of the precontact period and extended into decisive events of the early contact period. Moreover, his atypical career took him through the lands of opposing chiefs, enabling him to form an unusually broad view of the historical situation.
Hawaiians usually lived in one place, which was both their one Hanau 'birth sands', and their kula iwi 'plain of bones.' " Early in the reading I connected with this chief, and prophet Ke'aulumoku with this information alone; synchronous in our 'atypical careers' that took us from our birth sands. Charlot's lecture notes include more details and analysis of Ke'aulumoku's great gift and application of his political and poetic influence as an author of 'oli chants. It is Ke'aulumoku's last and most prophet 'oli that concludes the notes. Coupled with Charlot's reconstruction and translation/interpretation of the chant 'Au'A'Ia (Hold back, hold fast) and the historic overlay he includes I am refreshed and given another form of what Pualani Kanaka'ole Kanahele says "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."
The chant 'Au'A'Ia according to Charlot "is [a listing] of the sacred objects that should be holding Hawai'i together, but finding them unstable or overturned...He bewails their state and tries to awaken them to the importance of the crisis they are facing."(These are the days not long after Cook's arrival in 1778)." Charlot leads to his conclusion and adds a personal experience to add to the poetry and unraveling of his tale when he recalls: "When I saw the great 'Iolani Luahine towards the end of her life chant and dance 'Au'a 'Ia, she pronounced the last words in such a way that I seemed to hear:
NAnA I ka moku
a lohe I ka nalu
'Look at the land
And listen to the wave'.
Looking and listening was the fundamental skills of skills of classical Hawaiian education. Land and sea form one of the universal pairs of categories into which the many details of knowledge can be placed. The dancer was urging Hawaiians to return to their own Hawai'i."
Does the story ever end?
Last night the winds came with terrifying power, loud and stirring, disturbing and destructive. I am writing because we have a small gasoline (petroleum-dependent I am!) powered generator. A long electrical cord connects my computer, the heater and the refrigerator to that source. I am warm, connected and fed. Last night the sounds of falling tree limbs and the howls of Lono (the atmosphere) and his family turned me inside out. I am not easy with harsh winds. Winter is deep and I was born during this season. So too was Kainoa the tree-born from the sea birthed to me in Winter. Attempting a description of birthing child and placenta I keep the story alive as I live it. Messy yet beautiful because it is what happened. Over time the story may change enhanced or exploded with newer insight perhaps. To help me through nights like last night, or a season only ducks could love is to let Art participate in the harshness of Winter. I write the medicine story to homeopathically find my way. Medicine Stories have other names as well, one of them is the Fairy Tale. You might like to link to this wonderful Diane Rehm radio program on NPR to listen to 'The History and Modern Relevance of Fairy Tales.' I have taken the medicine that works best for me in Winter ... it has a start and a name, MoltenMadam. You are welcome to read and sip the medicine story as it writes me through another winter perhaps it will help you too. Your own story may unfold as well.
Remember the story never ends, or, the story could end a different way because you read about a woman just like you who ...
The beautiful artwork used in this post is that of artist Jean Charlot, father to John Charlot. The first "Hala Groves"; the second "Hawaiian Drummers." Link here for more of Charlot's magnificent collection.
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?
Trip, voyage, mission; procession; to travel, parade.
'Eli'eli Kau Mai
"Whatever you dig deep ... and find ... is yours."- from an Interview with Pualani Kanaka'ole Kanahele about her book Ka Honua Ola
Nature in her many forms
Spiders hatching
All around us in the woods where we live spiders are hatching. The picture above is one that is similar to what Pete and I watched the other day. It was a breezy afternoon, makani olu a very pleasant breeze was present moving from left to right as we stood at the fence post leading into the orchard and my garden where a row of bean seeds are just warm enough to push their way out of the lepo and reach for the sun. We stood enjoying the succulent breeze. In front of us, so close one could have missed it a pod the color of baby poop started to move. Tiny movements. Many movements. One by one the tiny moving being broke from the pod of baby poop and with makani olu's help strands of spider web launched baby spiders out into the sky.
Fern unfurling
We begin our fourth year of living on this land, this moku. Slowly and gratefully we make ourselves known to this island and this place surrounded by the Salish Sea and all the elements, gods, and protocols for life, here. The ferns that have grown up around us are nearly at their full and luscious height. They have unfurled. They are making their journey, they have sprung from roots planted deep in these forest floors. They show me through their example hua ka'i ... new beginnings, adventures just as the baby spiders journey into the unknown.
I've been listening to her since she was singing with Ike on vinyl records. She has sustained and she journeys from her Nut Bush City beginnings. Her music and her fame has launched her into the world as a celebrity the world knows. I will never know her to watch and become familiar with like I watch and become familiar with baby spiders or a neighborhood fern. But she is one of my species, and a woman and for that I can celebrate the possibility and the example. The interview with her was enjoyable and the conclusion very human. I connected on many levels and appreciated once more the awesomeness of YouTube.
Pua Kanahele is a contemporary of Tina Turner, they are probably the same age (78). Like Tina Turner Pualani Kanakaole Kanahele is a celebrity with a powerful voice. The title for this post and the inspiration to use these photos to enhance this post come from Pua. I have been studying her work, and appreciating the depth of her knowledge as I pursue my own practice as makua o'o elder in training. I learn something every time I listen to her, and look forward to reading her bookKa Honua Ola.
Those baby spiders, the unfurled ferns,Tina Turner and Pualani Kanahele are inspirations for living passionately today. So glad to have another day to be surprised by the journey, and the discoveries. I am refreshed with these example.
