“E ho‘omalu i ke kupa‘a no ka ‘aina.
Continue to be steadfast in your love for the land. ”
I’m back in Oak Park/Chicago after 20 days on the island of Hawaii. Well, my body is back. A group of us, hula people, went to Hawaii, the birthplace of Hula, to open to aina/land as teacher. Opening is letting go of our opinions, judgements, the small-selves that can narrow and wreak havoc in our lives.
When I close my eyes during meditation, instantly I am on Hawaii Island, sitting as I did there most mornings to experience Hawaiian sunrise.
Cardinals are the first to start singing in the early morning in Puako. Mynah birds start their chatter and doves coo as the sun rises. Dozens of white cattle egrets fly together – sometimes struggling against powerful winds - to see what fish they can catch over the frothy kai/sea light with white caps.
Mama humpback whales with their calves like to frolic in the early mornings and late afternoons. I see their spouts, then their backs and if I’m lucky I get a wave from a fin or a tail. Or if I'm really lucky I'll see half a whale's body sticking up over the water and then a huge splash as she submerges on her side.
Yesterday's early morning sky turned pink, orange and then gold. Knowing it was my last morning, I greedily breathed in the ocean air, white plumeria filled trees, beach-land with great keawe (mesquite) forest, incredibly beautiful clouds, and numerous birds singing and chirping away.
The sea was flat and calm. A heavy mist descended from big white cumulus clouds over Kohala Mountain, enveloping the mountain ridges and slopes green from constant moisture. The mist felt like my mood, sad to be leaving this beautiful place.
Our group was there to learn from the ʻāina/land - the spirit of aloha it is and the aloha it naturally generates. We have so many experiences to process: from the monsoon rains in Keaukaha that cleansed us along with Waiolena Pond, to the quiet fiery movement of magma in Halemaumau Crater - Pele’s home.
I can still hear the gentle strumming of Keoki Apokolani Carter as he serenaded us with song. We sat and listened in Kawaihae's healing breeze. Let’s Kiss the Sky, written by Yvonne (his wife), is a fitting tribute and offering for the beauty of the great firmament above us that is us. Keoki sang and we danced on the concrete sidewalk that overlooked keawe, sand, and ocean on that cool, cloudy afternoon.
Aloha means a deep love and compassion that just is. You feel it on the ʻāina/land. Aloha and the ʻāina are deeply intertwined with Hula, like a magnificent lei. Can we be aloha when we dance? Can we be aloha in our daily lives? How do we malama/take care of the ʻāina? How do you care for yourselves? What does it mean to love?
Mahalo nui loa and malama pono (Thank you and take good care of body, mind and heart),
June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue
Kumu Hula, Roshi
P.S. Here’s a link to Kumu June’s recent talk on Hawaiian Epistemology and Zen.
P.P.S. Here’s a link to the March Newsletter.