Maka'ala ke kanaka kahea manu.

Maka'ala ke kanaka kahea manu

A man who calls birds should always be alert. 

One who wishes to succeed should be alert to every opportunity, like one who catches birds by imitating their cries. - 'Olelo No'eau

'Ole Pau or 'Ole Ku Pau Moon Phase 

Today is the 'Ole Pau Moon. My dreams have visitors from my long past. A friend I have not thought of for fifty years; a woman from my home valley that caught the bus everyday. I never talked with her, but could have if I had not held back. In a dream I saw her. She was a food vendor on her lunch break. I watched her buy something with lots of crumpled paper in exchange for the flattened meal that I never got a good look at. Even in that dream she was familiar. But only later when I unfolded the dream in a story for my husband did I 'recognize' her as the woman who caught the bus everyday. I also dream a lot with Ma, my mother. The last image before waking Sunday morning was my mother pulling herself into a gray sleeping bag under the plumeria tree in our old front yard. My dreams have taken me into odd places; last night I pushed my shopping cart into a huge CostCo sort of warehouse, looking at rectangular shaped Round Steaks wrapped in plastic, through cases preventing me from touching or seeing the fine print I saw hams of different 'grades', the last hams were not pork at all but clever words describing the many other meats imitating ham. As I shopped in my dream I thought 'Ma, would like this (ham). When I got back to my shopping cart all the meats I'd chosen were gone (did the guys who work here put them back?). My woven bag and purse were still there, hung over the side of the shopping cart. I woke stunned from the dreams. More tired than before I went to bed. 

'Ole moons are times for reflection. At all levels of the meaning, 'reflection' mean different things over time. At this point, my reflections are often shameful one, unsure of my skill, even at this age. I am sixty-seven years old. Aren't I old enough to be sure? What I attempt at this point is to create a place to teach practices that have at its base the Kanaka Maoli (Hawaiians). I know what I have learned, and how I have learned aren't like others. My hula kumu (teacher) took me aside as a young woman struggling to move with the rest of the dancers. Gently she said, "Mokihana, maybe your gift is with the words." I have remained a great admirer and lover of hula. I love the music, I love the steps, and on my own I will dance. Even when I found the practice of Makua O'o, my kumu told me there were no others interested. Really? I asked. Aunty said, "It must be you." 

The sun has cleared the morning cloud cover. Bright light and reflections of the the alder leaves on the rippling window of the Quonset tells me it is a clear day. No wind stirs the branches. Oh, then, as I write, a tiny breeze moves the salmon berries. Not far from my writing place the Tall Ones stand. Cedar is not far from me. When I am not fearful, I notice life in abundance. When I am willing, I find an opportunity. The limitations of the illness that prevents random and spontaneous excursions makes my staying put the opportunity. I stay, and I study. I have a new language and culture to feed me. After listening to the sounds of Lushootseed, I have a page of words for cat, hummingbird, raven, mudswallow, chicken, spider. My ears tune to the sounds of the guttural Lushootseed, and I try to 'cut and paste' them into the written alphabet for "where gooseberry bushes grow" (Langley) and "prairie front" (the South Whidbey Tilth area). More practice needed.

Then, I find the HIBULB CULTURAL CENTER, website and discover an upcoming event "Roots of Wisdom". It opens Saturday, May 16, 2015. This is the opening paragraph describing the exhibit, 

"Tackling centuries of environmental and cultural damage can make for unlikely partnerships which result in extraordinary outcomes. In Roots of Wisdom, stories from four indigenous communities are brought to life in real-world examples of how traditional knowledge and cutting-edge Western science can be blended together to provide complementary solutions to contemporary concerns.[...]

Four indigenous cultures and communities are the focus of "Roots of Wisdom", one of them is the culture of the Kanaka Maoli, my Hawaiian culture. The Ancestors are definitely feeding me the opportunities!  Over a lunch of leftover chicken and dumplings I find the link to the LEGENDS of the Tulalip Tribes.   Between spoons of tender chicken thighs and sage dumplings I read the legends which are the 'medicine' of stories/ values that sustain and feed the generations.

Value #2 is a story told by Vi Hilbert, the storyteller and respected elder who I met for the first time in Seattle in 1997. I heard her tell stories in her language. I knew her voice would live with me wherever I went. I was living on O'ahu at the time, and was in the Pacific Northwest for a month-long visit. I would hear her again at her birthday potlatch in the Tulalip Longhouse years later. Today with the sun shining through the arms of Grandmother of the People I read the story Her First Basket.  It was exactly the story I needed today, exactly the practice I needed today. The story never ends, says the story. I believe that. There is a paragraph that nears the last word on the page, it reads

"[...]Time passed, and the little girl grew up. As she grew older, she helped many people through her basket making. She passed along the knowledge of how to make a basket water tight. She lived according to the teachings that the Tree and the elder lady (who became her friend) gave her. And she became a treasure to her people. It would be nice to think that her illness left her. But it didn’t. She suffered from that illness all her life, and she accomplished all those things anyway...[.]

Mahalo nui loa a pau e na aumakua.