Ulu, the tightrope and dream tattoos

ulu. 1. to grow, increase, spread; grove, growth, collection, flock; an increase or rising of the wind - Pukui & Elbert

 "You certainly seem to be walking that fine line between fear and desire. Yet your fear, in some ways, seems the larger of the two, as you contemplate all that could potentially go wrong. Yet that’s not really an issue, though if it is, ask yourself whether you’re using your power correctly. Consider carefully, and if the answer is yes, then move on. What really may be the thing making you nervous is the passion you’re feeling for someone, or that they feel for you. In that way, intense desire can come across as fear, though I would ask: fear of what? Aaah well, fear of the only thing that seems to get anyone’s attention, which is the potential for change. Change in this scenario means experiencing actual feelings, and meeting someone who has the potential to match or even exceed your energy[...] - Eric Francis, Planet Waves Scorpio, May, 2015"

Yesterday the energy of the Scorpio Full Moon still pulsed. The long night's sleep the night just past had fueled us both. We turned out the lights, shut down the computer, and tucked ourselves under the covers and left "the" time behind. Mahina the Fattening One was yet to rise from the Eastern horizon and Ka La the brilliant star of light had yet to fall below the horizon in the West. We were cradled in the sublime between ma waena in the middle or at the tail end of day, and the start of night. Funny how we count, and measure, funny how we account for our progress.

The astrology described above, written by Eric Francis is something I enjoy reading once a month, thanks to Julie Genser at Planet Thrive. Thanks to Julie, some of the most difficult and fearful times we faced during the onset of MCS were calmed through the cyber-connections (safety nets) strung by Julie's community. As Pete and I have refashioned our lives, rooting in the glacial silt of this island in the Salish Sea, my connection with Planet Thrive has changed. My interactions are infrequent, but, I appreciate monthly check-ins with Francis' view of the astrology for the month.

I glean a little or a lot from the broad view for Scorpio in May (as Saturn moves closer to a retrograde in Scorpio for the summer and fall). Reading the first lines "fine line ... between fear and desire" fits my current emotions. While my daytime emotional thermometer might appear calm, inside, the volcano rumbles. It's very good for me to have the rich dream world that rubs at the seemingly solid (Capricorn conservative, secretive Moon). While we slept in that ma waena place, the dream tattoos artists were ready to lay their designs on me.

I am filling the shelves of the kitchen pantry. Large cans (that's dating me, and the period piece dream) of HAWAIIAN PUNCH as far as I can reach, and further still, line the shelves. I think to myself, "Wow, Hawaiian Punch. All varieties of the sweet and unlikely sugar water drink." Next to them large cans of pork 'n beans. Again, I laugh at the choices in the cupboard. What really struck me though was the smell that permeated me and the dreams. The smell: unique and specific to the kitchen cupboard of my mother's Kuli'ou'ou kitchen. To analyze and dissect the combination? Not possible, not necessary. Smell memory dreams are not usual for me. The final image before I work that night of ma waena time dream was a stack of Haleiwa Brand poi in bags.

What? I go through the process of ho'oulu stirred and inspired by the dream that came with visual and olfactory symbolism. 'Aue! Ma is telling me something. In the shower this dialogue starts up with myself (it was really my brother David coming through, loud, clear and in heavy pidgin!).

"Eh, you making island (ho'omoku)?" 
"Yeh, why buddah you?"
"No. You know how?"
"Yeh. I know how."
"You goin?"
"Yeh, I goin'."
"You sureh?"
"Yeh."
"Okay den."

My ahu (altar) of pictures of my mother, dad, brother, son, cousins and us (Pete and me) fill the top shelf of the book shelf and dangle from safety pins. They are in that Hale Au'au (bath house). In that space where we wash ourselves, the dishes, and our clothes my family's 'ike is alive and their voices are unadjusted. Pidgin reigns and by the time I have stepped out and under the heat lamp, grabbed my towel and start to dry myself off I am crackin' up from the conversation.

The island I am building, this place, whose blog I fill with cyber-words come from the inspiration that is both excited and desirous. I wish to share and be inspired by others. But. Those others might "match or even exceed your energy"; that frightens me. As I write I am reminded of what Kalei Nu'uhiwa said in her presentation at the 'Aha Wahine Conference about the heat that is generated when a lot of people with mana gather in one place. It makes people uncomfortable! There is chaos. There is also the potential for something yet to be.

An image of spider webs presents us with the organized or chaotic ways in which we (or spiders) engage with life. Nu'uhiwa also suggests in that same presentation that we wahine (women) remember the trials and journey of the Pele and Hi'iaka myths. Sent on a great adventure, Hi'iaka meets challenge after challenge. Personal journeying. Tightrope walking. Mo'o battling. Balancing precipice. Hi'iaka has long been an akua who has inspired my journeys. So too do the spiders inspire me. I see them readying themselves for take-off.

Keiki prepare for launch!

Ulu means to grow, increase, spread. The inspiration to build a space, a place, a halau (long house as for canoes or hula instruction) grows with each step, tentative sometimes, yet at such a deeply knowing place within. The humor and pidgin rich dialogue that comes out of my mouth in the hale au'au is the stuff that tattoos me on the inside where I must look with confidence. This looking inward changes my perspective, because, then, I am not counting on the approval of others who may, or may not, be inspired or tattooed by the same dreams.

Hawaiian Punch in large cans. 'Aue. Thank you Ma for your kitchen cupboard. And Dad and David, your humor, geez nothing like it.

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.