Moonlight Gardening

This is the final night of the La'au Po (the la'au moons).  Pete and I were chatting just before falling to sleep last night. 

"I forgot to water the garden," this was me talking. 

"Yeah, I'm not backing you up on that, sorry," Pete said nearly asleep already.  When he finally goes horizontal it's a short trip to snoreland.

"I better get up and do that (it was dark already). It was hot today."  I hadn't convinced myself and half wanted an excuse to stay put.

"In the morning.  They'll be alright until morning."

We let that conversation thin, closing out the busy day just ending.  A late afternoon phone chat with my family in Waimanalo put me at ease as I heard my brother's voice stronger than it's been for months.  The strain of cancer treatments is harsh journeying, but the support that musters to support him and the rest of us comes in visible and invisible forms.  From this distance our support comes through suggestions for sustaining nourishment he can manage.

"Drinking those 3 things everyday.  The green stuff?" 

"Wheatgrass," I tell my brother. 

"Yeah, wheatgrass.  Coconut water.  Poi." 

"You eat that through your feeding tube?" 

"Yup."

"You have all our prayers, too.  Everyday, all the time."  A silence on his end.

"Thank you."

"You got it, bruddah."

That conversation rewound in my mind and heart as I fell asleep.  Dreams of brothers and family and gardens needing watering swhirled in the dark space of the Gypsy wagon, and then there was sleep.

I woke when Mahina was bright in the sky above us.  Awake and doing my thanks for everything conversation with Akua, I was finally more awake than asleep.  I climbed over Pete, pulled the freshly washed violet cotton robe off its hook and slipped into it.  I took my scarf and hat and pair of socks to keep my f.resh from sleep warmth intact.  Mahina was brilliant in the clear and starry sky.  I greeted her with the childlike glee I have always had for a moonlight time in the garden.  Walking across the gravel pathway the small stones did their crunch, crinkle dance as my boots marked the way to the orchard gate.  JOTS was totally in agreement as to our moonlight walk as she waited for me to fiddle with the latch that is sticking from the summer's comings-and-goings. 

Inside the orchard was a landscape of shadows, big dark unmistakeable shapes of the single sunflower, the tipping stalks of the raspberries, collards leaning on their heartying stems leaves fanned in shades of green so different in moon light.  The hose, stiff from the cool night temperatures needed a bit of coaxing but once untangled the water welcomed release. 

"Hello, beans," I said on my way into the orchard even before the watering began.  The vining Blue Lakes are beautiful day and night, but at night the leaves fill space like roofs over tiny villages of flowers just beginning.  I tell them how beautiful they are, and tell them again as I start to sing a melody of notes unconsciously.  Not a whistle, for that would beckon to the wrong ones, I hum and sing softly as I give the carrots, collards, tomatoes, peas and beans an early morning watering.  Moonlight gardening like this one is a very special time when the darkness of the sky perches on the edge of the sun's eminent rising.  The stars and moon are dominant, but it is the shades and shadows of Earth's permanence -- the energy of la'au ... growing things, water-thirsty trees, blooming flowers and legged creatures that are refreshed and enlivened at this time.  When most of the two-legged creatures are tucked under covers there is a world of heightened potency available.  The La'au Moons are times for gathering the healing medicinals at their height of potency.  To be with my garden in the moonlight is to know that firsthand.  La'au PAU marks the end of the second week (anahulu Ho'o Nui) of the Hawaiian Moon Calendar.  A time of thanksgiving, a celebration of fullness a nice way of looking at being with the garden, and offering life-giving water to the life-givers.  Tomorrow the three 'Ole moons of rest, review, weed and reconnoiter begin.  The anahulu Ho'o Nui is a ten cycle period without 'ole, so these 'ole moons are a needed respite, and I am happy to have had time with moonlight and shadows, and watering the beans.

Do you moonlight garden?

Nance

go not by my face without time
to gently caress the eyes
that have loved you
in the winter when snow
has locked us against the cold

sit briefly to remember the yesterday
when we were agile
not fragile of bone
nor lost to the future
that will not be ours

kiss me because it is you I love

me who has baked cake

I cannot eat
but my sweet
you love down
to the crumb

do not pass
carees my cheek
kiss me now
tomorrow
may
be
too

late.

loving you as ever e & n ...

Is it too late to look up?

I didn't mean to write this.  We're just back from the Sunday Farmers' Market where we do our bit of volunteering at a place that is just our pace with people who encourage us to be part of the solution.  One like me healing from the effects of chemical injury is always, always overjoyed (can you be too joyful?) to have a place where fragrances and chemicals are not encouraged and in fact encourages us to bring in our Freed-Up practices on-site.  My market bag was filled with one beautiful large zucchini ($1.00), large Italian green beans ($3.00), 4 first-of-the-season Transparent Apples ($1.00) and two 18" Japanese cucumber ($1.50 each).  The morning was easy, the clean-up swift, and the calm vibe from last night's Field-to-Table Harvest Feast still lingered sweet in the memory. 

The full moons of Kaulana Mahina are moving toward Kulu, the fat Mahealani moon was brilliant in the dark sky above the wooded home where we live.  I was just saying to Pete how truly blessed we are to be in such dark and restoring space at night.  I was in the city earlier in the week, driving into Seattle and being in the light intense space of freeways and urban economy.  Healing from chemical injury has meant noticing and attending to the high risk of exposure to too much light -- artificial light.  My night driving and airport adventure was just as I thought it would be:  difficult, but short.  My honey is home, we made the last ferry crossing at 1:05 a.m. and life is good back in the woods.

As I sit waiting for the water to heat so I can wash up the dishes, I sat and thought of Kauai, and Joan Conrow.  Months have passed since I checked in on Kauai Eclectic. It's not an easy blog to read.  It's not Conrow's writing that makes it hard to read, it's always the truth she flattens me with that forces me to check it out with lots of time in between.  The post that got me was entitled "Look Up " and was as suspected, a  piece that began with the full moon shouting at Conrow to get up and bask in her illumination.  The rest of the piece went in typical Joan Conrow style for the na'au with bits of human and societal choices that make you think "TOO LATE, already."  The entire post on Kauai Eclectic is here:  http://kauaieclectic.blogspot.com/2011/08/musings-look-up.html.

From the confines of my small Quonset, where the light of early afternoon sun brights the deep forest thicket, I know Kauai, the Monk seals, Johnson Atoll and the choices of organized systems fall so short of a planet lived in pono.  I know the effects of short-sighted solutions and live with healing from that short-sightedness most days.  I also know that LOOKING UP is the way we found our way out and back to a life lived a lot more firsthand, and that feels really good.  The water's hot, it's time to wash dishes.

PREPARING THE WA'A

Navigating is an ancient and persisting activity for all beings though not exclusive to humans the knowledge and wisdom of 'wayfinding' is a skill that has benefitted humans for centuries. Getting from here to there on an ocean of more than 20,000 miles, the Pacific Ocean is home to great navigators, and a culture based on connection with sky-water-earth navigation as a firsthand and innate source of balance, or pono. This blog-wa'a -- a cyber canoe, serves as metaphor and practical connection with the goddess Hina and her thirty po passage through the sky. Kaulana Mahina [The Hawaiian Moon Calendar] pictured on the sidebar of the blog is our one-dimension image of Kaulana Mahina. Using words, images, story and firsthand living, these monthly blog voyages serve as sextant and seat of exploration, encouraging all who come to LOOK UP to make sure of your place in time, and feel the affects of be connected, or disconnected. Finding your way back into a life lived firsthand? This may be a wa'a with a seat for you...

I am preparing the next month-long workshop focused on the Hawaiian Moon Calendar.  This one continues the study of Mahina and reviews the valuable lessons of living intune with moon-time.  I have created the beginnings of this blog-workshop but wait for input from readers and returning 'paddlers' to load this wa'a with knowledge, experience and stories that will nourish you, and build our capacity to sustain ourselves as well.

Link below to read the blog, and offer your thoughts on the polls found on Wayfinding with Mahina.

http://wayfinding-mahina.blogspot.com/2011/08/preparing-waa-what-would-you-wish-for.html

It's a full moons [there are more than one in Kaulana Mahina]weekend.  Enjoy being seen and being with the one(s) you love!

Mokihana

First-hand living

"Firsthand knowledge is enormously time consuming to acquire; with its dallying and lack of end points, it is also out of phase with the short-term demands of modern life." 

- Barry Lopez 

first winter outside the Quonset

When you are living firsthand earth, wind, water, air and spirit are now.  Seated at my writing tray, the gurgle of the sink water, hum of our tiny frig, the heat from heater and the mousing around of my husband sorting through paper documentation of bills paid, notes made, pay checks received, product research ... all add up to a chunk of my first-hand.  The Quonset houses our cooking and sheltered space in 8 feet of tile floor and metal siding surrounded by the thousands of trees who allow us a place with them.  The glass jars filled with filtered water for drinking and cooking sit under our sink; the daily douse of niu ola(coconut water) emptied from young coconuts come from the neighborhood grocery now days, and memories of harvesting our own fade unless I look at the photos that remind me:  we did this and would do it again. 

Within inches of Pete's documentation sort, my knee and the keys of the laptop work at crafting a piece of writing that calls on the spirit of story to be with me.  The journey of re-claiming a life lived first-hand is a process, nothing immediate about it, we makua have had to learn through experience what it takes to make our way back to a firsthand life.  In the years since we rediscovered Hina's school of wayfinding, we are reminded over and over about the 'dallying and lack of end points' in  living first hand.  Small things like filtering water is slow and necessary.  My body requires the filtration to maintain a level of well-being.  I must use that water to wash my clothes by hand in the sink.  If all goes as we envision there will be a new small space that shelters filtered hot water for a shower and a washing machine (that works on electricity).  We have worked three years to get to this possibility, and we know that time might stretch leaving me washing my self and my clothes in a sink for awhile more. 

Yesterday, Hina hid from me.  She is now in the evening sky with the beginning of Anahulu Poepoe.  Without seeing her shape, to be positive of the phase?  Maybe Huna, maybe not.  The study group and blog we maintain focused on Kaulana Mahina is our cyber sextant, our navigation tool linking written word to the practice of participating with time.  I know the value of slowing into connection with moon time through experience.  Astrologers know the value of being in sync with planets and Hina, and vibe to the energy of the moon moving into different astrological signs (every couple of days).  Ten po (ten nights/days) at a time, I attune to the anahulu living firsthand the draw of water through me as it draws on everything on Earth.  Some of the knowledge that comes from Mahina are:

Anahulu Ho'onui ... first ten po after a dark moon ... slivers of light draw on the up-right KU masculine nature of life, my life...always begin with prayer and acknowledgment of the gods/the guardians/the providers of life ...then, time to feel the backbone of my life, strengthen my aim and my connection ... then, the 'Ole moons ask me rest, repair and keep pono.

Anahulu Poepoe ... second ten po ... after the 'Ole ... again, reminders of time to give thanks, and observe kapu practicing consciousness of choice ... the 4 full moons of Hina ... amplify the feminine quality of birth, re-birth, fullness ... the final 4 moons of Hina are la'au moons, times for planting trees and bark-covered plants ... these are also the moons when gathering la'au (plants, greenery) is most potent for healing...no 'Ole moons in this anahulu.

Anahulu Ho'emi ... the final moons of the Kaulana Mahina ... it begins with 'Ole and prayer (there's always time for prayer!) ... after a full ten phases of feminine/intuition/re-birth rest! ... pray for thanksgiving and then the kaloa moons ... these are especially good fishing moons ... and the final three or four moons (the Mauli moon is a sometimes moon) are kapu moons for the gods Kane and Lono, making time to pray for health and abundant food sources as the malama (month) ends, only to begin again.

I was reading and responding to a wonderful email discourse last night with one of the wahine paddlers in our wa'a kaulua focused on Kaulana Mahina.  She reflected on the challenges of re-entering a life lived firsthand sorting through the feeling that come from the busy-ness of a work life.  It was she who reminded me of Barry Lopez's quote posted at the beginning of this ramble.  I appreciate her honesty and her awareness.  With her permission a snip from her email is included below.

"...The problem is that despite my efforts to slow down (the message from Pele this summer) I'm still not finding the time to sink into observation of mahina and flow.  i seriously want to get there and have realized that it's now on my "list" of things to work into my life.  interestingly, i did see the connection as you had mentioned as well, about being able to see mahina during the daylight hours.  i noticed that i was mesmerized by her presence while i was out and about.  i kept thinking There she[is]!  Part of it is that, like yourself, I can't always see her from my house at night due to the angles of buildings and not feeing very safe to walk at night in my neighborhood..."

Navigating is all about honesty and awareness: if you don't know where you're going you could be there at any moment. On the other hand if you are aware you are not where you want to be you can choose to be somewhere else at any moment. If the next choice moves you closer to your envisioned destination that choice is a better-feeling choice. Firsthand living is not swift, and the knowledge that comes from it is good only when you integrate the information and find the wisdom and lessons from the living. Does it conflict with the normal pace of most living today?

What do you think?

Voyaging Canoes: Reconnecting with Turtle Island

"We have chosen a motto for the whole project, which reflects the spiritual thinking in Polynesian culture about the sea, which has the same life-force running through its water as runs through our bodies, and how to treat this precious resource to not disturb Tangaroa, the God of the Sea. The following saying is a poetic way to say "be respectful and gentle":

"Move your paddle silently through the water"

We are a group of Pacific Islanders who have come together from many nations, sailing as one across the Pacific Ocean. We are voyaging to strengthen our ties with the sea, renew our commitment to healthy ecosystems for future generations, and to honour our ancestors who have sailed before us. As we sail our Vaka across the Pacific, we are respectful and gentle, always remembering our voyage motto: “Move your paddle silently through the water."  The Ocean provides us with the air we breathe, the food we eat, life-sustaining medicines, and nourishment for our souls. Currently, our Ocean is in peril and these essential gifts are quickly disappearing."

-from the website of PACIFIC VOYAGERS http://www.pacificvoyagers.org/



The waka coming into San Francisco bay.  Photo Copyright Duncan Morrison, 2011

Mahalo to Stacey Simpkin, of Pacific Voyagers for permission to publish this image here



Seven voyaging canoes have made the 20,000 mile crossing from the Southern Pacific Ocean to San Francisco on the California coast of North America.  Voyaging and reconnection is a theme of collective consciousness, moving the spirit of ancestral memory through the blood and body of modern kanaka.  The wa'a kaulua, waka, voyaging canoes arrived in San Francisco Bay, August 3, 2011.  The journey will be documented in a film "My Blue Canoe"  scheduled for release in 2013.

View the trailer to the documentary "Our Blue Canoe"

Joseph Strong oil, Waikiki in the early 1900's

The culture of the Pacific includes the value of connection and care of all that is, and malama i ke kai, caring for the sea is inseparable from the core of earth-connected peoples.  The waka and the voyagers who are making this trans-Pacific journey continue a legacy centuries old.  Metaphorically and physically way-finding is a seed never dead, always potent, and sustaining.  I remember reading about Nainoa Thompson's early days as young 20 year old man awakened to the seed of voyaging.  I had begun my own personal navigations and was living in the Pacific Northwest already.  Thompson grew up in Niu Valley, one small valley over from my own Kuliouou Valley home.  Decades later, I would use Nainoa Thompson's mana'o to fuel cyber-wa'a journeys to share Kaulana Mahina -- the tracking of time based on the Hawaiian Moon Calendar.  At whatever age, and in whatever stage we find ourselves the journey of way-finding is a vital connection to being in sync with All-that-is; neither expecting to tame nature nor possess it.  Here is an excerpt from a Nainoa Thompson story that vibes with me, reminding me to value the child-wisdom that is Akua's great gift to us all.

Nainoa grew up on his grandfather's dairy and chicken farm in Niu Valley-when the valley was still all country. It was Yoshio Kawano, the milkman, who introduced the ocean to Nainoa. Dawn would often find Nainoa sitting on Yoshi's doorstep, waiting for Yoshi to take him fishing. Yoshi would bundle Nainoa into the old car, and off they'd go to fish in the streams or on the reefs. He came to be at home with the ocean, feeling the wind, the rain, the spray against his body. To the five-year-old Nainoa, the ocean was huge, wild, free, and open. The ocean and the wind were always changing; this was so different from the serenity of the mountains and the farm. Nainoa came to sense and feel the tune of the ocean world, develop-ing a personal relationship with the sea. These early experiences, Nainoa thinks, were an essential preparation for becoming a navigator: "We learn differently when we are young; our understanding is intuitive and unencumbered."

Excerpt from The Polynesian Voyaging Society website

If you are interested in joining us for the September on-line workshop/voyage of "Count on The Moon" ... Way-finding with Po Mahina, email us at ssvardoATgmailDOTcom and we will respond with the details.

Aloha,

Mokihana

Pete's Crescent Coop

Pete and I were looking at the first picture taken of us as an all-most couple.  Seventeen years ago.  Still crowing after all those years, and all the challenges.  He's a building man, Pete is.  He's built us a home, a Quonset kitchen and soon a bathhouse.  Chicken coops or hen housing is his latest gig ... bringing in cash, and making places for hens to crow while giving birth to those eggs we people love to eat.

These are pictures taken of Pete's latest coop, with a Crescent Moon venting window for the gals.

Do you coop chickens or house hens?  Do they range free?  What do you feed them?