Hula is the Art of Hawaiian Dance Expressing All We See, Hear, Smell, Taste, Touch and Feel

“Hula is the art of Hawaiian dance expressing all
we see, hear, taste, touch and feel.”

— Maiki Aiu Lake

Robert & Margaret Tanoue at Kumu June's 'Uniki, Halau Hula Ka No'eau, - Waimea, Hawaii Island June 16, 2000

My hula sisters Lindsey Kelii Kalkbrenner and Lois Kamamookeaonei Gregg just completed their ‘Uniki (hula graduation) this past weekend in Waimea, Hawaii Island. They are now kumu hula - master hula teachers!

My heart is full of joy for them and for our kumu Michael Pili Pang. It is a huge accomplishment! Congratulations to all - the ancestors are smiling for the lineage is alive and growing!!!

The road to kumu hula (master teacher of the hula) is long - filled with many ups and downs. Sometimes the path is dark and one can’t find it anywhere. So whoever takes this path must truly love hula. And what does this path look like?

I've found that Hula is a heart practice. One of my earliest memories was when I was three or four years old. My father and his friends were at our house in Kukaiau. I remember dancing with all my heart, but I don’t recall if there was any music. All I know was I was having fun! When I was done, I remember running and jumping into my father’s arms, and that he was cooing and laughing and hugging me with great affection.

I learned that dancing made me happy and others happy too. This inexplicable joy when dancing has stayed with me through thick and thin.

My mother said when I was six, I asked her to take me to hula class. Aunty Louise Beamer taught hula for all ages in the basement of the Odaisan Buddhist Temple. I remember having a hard time learning the kaholo (basic hula step) and my mother patiently showing me how to do it. I remember being by her side as she slowly explained it to me while doing it. I watched and learned.

Hula is a body practice. Hula is Nature, and we are beings that are part of it - not separate from it. Dancing keeps my energy circulating, working stress out of my body. I’ve also started walking regularly at 6 am. My body loves being outside amidst trees and flowers. The air is cool, the trees are fresh with their canopies of leaves nurtured with dew. Flowers are sparkling and birds are singing.

Hula is also a mind practice. Hula is life, and in life things get messy. Hearts break. We get angry and fearful. My hula practice dovetails with my Zen meditation practice, both essential for helping me work with my mind. Being able to focus, being still, and just breathing are calming when my mind is a jumble of thoughts and emotions.

Hula principles that are always great to practice, especially in difficulty, are: patience, respect, integrity, discipline, humility, and aloha (love). Staying focused and aware of how you’re feeling and thinking will truly help you find your compassionate and strong heart in the midst of a crazy maze. Know when to let go of negative thinking and embrace aloha.

Malama pono (take good care of body and mind),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Enjoy 21 students of Halau i Ka Pono dancing Kaiona https://youtu.be/oPMBdStqPK8lyrics by Puakea Nogelmeier and sung by Keali’i Reichel. Kaiona is the Hawaiian Goddess of the Lost who helps people find their path. Mahalo to videographer Oscar Caudell.

The World was Tender with Significance

“The world was tender with significance.”

— Louise Erdrich, The Night Watchman

Robert Althouse and Kumu June, Mitchell Lake, Ely, Minnesota

We’ve been at the NorthernAir Lodge in Ely, MN for the past 10 days. I’ve been soaking up being surrounded by forest and lake by looking and listening deeply.

Our log cabin has a tiny bedroom, two sides of which are windows. Lying on the bed I can see rain falling through the forest. When it’s clear I see the unwavering light blue sky supporting the quivering poplars and young evergreens.

Sunrise colors on the trees and birds singing greet me when I awaken. When I sit up I see the dock and the blue lake merging with a fringe of forest in the distance.

I take a deep breath every time I see the wide expanse of lake, clouds, and sky. Watched a loon fishing for dinner. Saw a couple of turtles poking their little heads through the lake surface and dip down again. 

From the dock, when the heat of the sun is upon us, we turn our chairs around from lake view to look at the trees on the shore. My husband plays a phone app of birds and their songs, and much to our delight, luring song sparrows, cedar waxwings, even a pileated woodpecker - all curious to check out who’s making the calls. 

Mostly we’ve been resting, reading, watching movies, some hiking. And I’ve been sewing while listening to Louise Erdrich read her book, The Night Watchman, which just won the Pulitzer Prize! Louise is a member of the Turtle Mountain Band of the Chippewa Indians.

I had my first kayak lesson last week. The lake was choppy with 12 mph winds. Kayaking was a little scary not really knowing how to maneuver. But I managed with my expert teacher’s guidance. 

The lake has been calmer since then with mirror-like glassiness, gentle ripples, and a couple of huge downpours. There are dragonflies galore on the lake and I love them because in addition to being stunning, they eat mosquitos and flies. 

A few days ago, while kayaking I saw a brown furry head the size of a small grapefruit swimming. It was a beaver! He slapped his broad tail a few times on the lake surface - the loud sound surprised and scared me. This was his territory and I should not get too close. I got the message!

This morning I ambled down the little one lane dirt road to the office to return some cleaning supplies. Sunshine was gentle after a rainy Monday. Robins were cheerily singing in the trees on either side of the road. I walked slowly just enjoying their serenade along with the softness of the humid air. 

All of a sudden, sadness grabbed ahold of me. I realized that I had fallen in love with this place and was thinking about how downhearted I would be to leave it. This place reminds me of Hawaii in the way that I feel nurtured by the trees, the lake, the birds, the air…

“Why are you sad now?” my husband gently asked when I told him. “We have another few days left.” 

“Right,” I thought as tears came to my eyes. In addition to love, I noticed a deep tenderness arising for this place. Trungpa Rinpoche speaks of the tender and sad heart of a warrior - a compassionate warrior who feels her heart and is able to face it. Taking time to pause and appreciate each precious moment especially if it's sad and tender.

Malama pono (take good care of body and mind),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Enjoy 21 students of Halau i Ka Pono dancing Kaiona https://youtu.be/oPMBdStqPK8 , lyrics by Puakea Nogelmeier and sung by Keali’i Reichel. Kaiona is the Hawaiian Goddess of the Lost who helps people find their path. Mahalo to videographer Oscar Caudell.

Loving is the Whole Basis of This Path

“Loving is the whole basis of this path, the natural abundance of being itself.”

— Robert Joshin Althouse

Joy Yamasaki, Hanale West and June Tanoue dance Maunaleo at Zen Life & Meditation Center's Annual Meeting.

I just began teaching a beginner keiki (children’s) class on zoom for ages 5 - 7 years old. I am learning a lot from these young children: four 5 year olds and a 7 year old. 

Five year old Leo is the first boy to attend this class. He comes with his 7 year old sister Sunny started and he joined after a couple of weeks. 

He is the second male in the halau. I’ve been noticing his spunky energy and how much he’s been enjoying the class. Older sister Sunny is very loving with him. She helps him patiently with the different hand and arm motions.  

I’m teaching Hawaiian words and arm movements for the Descriptive Hula. This is a dance I ask all newcomers to the halau to learn because it teaches the basic mannerisms of our school. The last verse describes picking flowers to make a lei and then giving that lei to someone with a lot of love. 

My verbal instruction is that students are supposed to hug themselves when the words of the song sings, “…with all our love…” Instead Leo and Sunny spontaneously hug each other during this part of the dance with infectious youthful enthusiasm. It tickles me tremendously and confirms that there is deep goodness in the world. 

The spiritual path of hula is somewhat surprisingly very entwined with my zen path. It’s important to be genuine and open-hearted when you dance and yes, spontaneous and in the moment too. These two little ones have shown me how they love no matter what!

Malama pono (take good care of body and mind),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Enjoy 21 students of Halau i Ka Pono dancing Kaiona, lyrics by Puakea Nogelmeier and sung by Keali’i Reichel. Kaiona is the Hawaiian Goddess of the Lost who helps people find the path. Mahalo to videographer Oscar Caudell.

All Kinds of Suffering Have Purpose: They are the Harbingers of Change

“All kinds of suffering have purpose: they are the harbingers of change.”

— Marti Matthews

Tomeyo Tahara, Joichi Tahara, Margaret Tanoue, Robert Naoyuki Tanoue, Henry Allen Auwae

I had a wonderful opportunity this past April to do a residency with the Hubbard St. Dance Chicago and Jones High School. 

Six master teachers of dance, of whom I was honored to be one, explored the question “What is Dance” with about 50 sophomores on Zoom! 

In three hula classes, I taught the students Kaiona about the Hawaiian goddess of the lost. 

It’s been interesting to delve deeply into Kaiona. Part of the challenge is to explore being lost. Last November, I noticed when a writing prompt came up concerning the question “How lost am I?” that I resisted writing about it. 

I noticed that I didn’t want to admit that I had ever been lost. I didn’t want to write or even think about it.

My zen practice is about facing things that are difficult. It’s about staying with and normalizing discomfort. So because of that visceral feeling of not wanting to write, I knew I had to write as an act of resistance. I gave myself permission to write about anything. What came out were feelings of being still lost and missing my parents who have been gone for a decade. Deep sadness was still with me. 

I think we in America have fixed ideas that we should keep things together all of the time to be successful. But why should we have it all together all of the time? Who’s perfect? Who is organized all of the time and never makes mistakes? Mistakes are how we learn. 

Kaiona is a dance of compassion or kindness to oneself. Many people forget about that and think kindness is only for others. That’s another fixed idea whose grip we need to loosen. We must be kind to ourselves - especially when we make mistakes. The dance tells us that it’s ok to be lost - that it’s a complex world we live in with many, many detours and distractions. Many detours are beautiful and tantalizing, and we can easily get lost and eventually suffer. 

Being vulnerable and expressing lostness is actually a very courageous thing to do. It’s like taking the boogey man out of the shadows into the light. In the shadows the boogey man can grow very large. But when you engage it by bringing light in some way, something liberating happens. Something changes. There’s a sparkle you find in your own sad and tender heart that’s always there. This sparkle of love, or aloha, can change the world. 

Malama pono (take good care of body and mind),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Enjoy 21 students of Halau i Ka Pono dancing Kaiona, lyrics by Puakea Nogelmeier and sung by Keali’i Reichel. Thanks to video editor Oscar Caudell.

Carry Grief in One Hand, Gratitude in the Other

“The work of the mature person is to carry grief in one hand and gratitude in the other and to be stretched large by them. How much sorrow can I hold? That’s how much gratitude I can give. If I carry only grief, I’ll bend toward cynicism and despair. If I have only gratitude, I’ll become saccharine and won’t develop much compassion for other people’s suffering. Grief keeps the heart fluid and soft, which helps make compassion possible.”

— Francis Weller

Kumu enjoying a break on the Blood River, KY

We have been studying compassion through the hula, Kaiona, these past few months. Kaiona, the goddess of the lost, was written by Puakea Nogelmeier and sung by Keali’i Reichel. The melody is soothing, the words are enlightening, the hula is transformative.

We’ve gone deep with this hula. Our bodies have learned hands and feet, our minds have studied the lyrics, and we’ve opened our hearts finding emotions within to share as we tell the story of Kaiona. It’s a story of being lost, caring for ourselves with loving kindness, finding the sparkle within, and helping others.

I’ve noticed how being embodied and dancing is not only about joy, but it’s an integral part of a healing process. It’s about opening your heart or starting the process to open. Like learning anything new, at first it’s difficult, but as you keep going, you’ll be surprised by how much you’ll learn about yourself and the world.  

Feeling lost can be about loss or the grief that arises due to loss. I remember four times in my life when I spontaneously started crying out loud because I was very sad. One time was when I was leaving for college to go to the University of Redlands in California. It was 1968. I was 18 and ready to leave Kukaiau to see the world, yet how does one say goodbye to a family that one has had so many experiences with. It’s a loss of a way of life. 

The whole family was at Hilo Airport seeing me and my high school classmate, Mary Lou Yuen, off to Honolulu and then Los Angeles. I’m sure I was triggered when I gave Dad a hug. We had a kind of relationship, especially when I was older, that whenever we’d have a serious discussion about anything, I noticed that tears would arise and I’d be wondering why I was crying. I noticed that Dad would be speaking to me in a very simple but very compassionate and loving way.

My head couldn’t really figure it out. But my body knew that aloha was flowing and my heart was opening and tears naturally following. It’s hard to gauge a parent’s love with your head. But you can’t argue with your heart.

After hugging my parents I burst out crying as I walked towards the stairs going up into the plane. When I started college, I was homesick for a good month. It’s a good thing that Mary Lou and I were roomies. Everything was just so different. And then I adjusted to life as a college student but always with gratitude for my upbringing in Hawaii - for the land and my family.

I didn’t really think about it then, but when I look back and reflect, I see that grief and gratitude went hand in hand. Grief initially is raw and it hurts your heart. But be brave, stick with feeling - not so much the thoughts but the feeling in your heart - it will not last forever and you'll be grateful that you did because it helps keep your heart fluid and soft - an important way to generate compassion. And we need a lot of that right now.

Malama pono (take good care of body and mind),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

Is Not Impermanence the Very Fragrance of Our Days?

“Is not impermanence the very fragrance of our days?”

— Rainer Maria Rilke

A lot of beautiful snow fell in early February!

I just bought a bag of Persian Trail Mix - a blend of mulberries, dates, nuts, sour cherries and golden berries sourced from around the globe. The trail mix reminded me of the fresh mulberries from a tree growing just outside my parents’ home in Kukaiau. It bordered the tall eucalyptus forest that replaced a century of Hamakua Sugar Plantation’s rows of tall green sugar cane. 

That plantation supported a whole community of sugar workers and their families - mostly Japanese, Filipino, and Portuguese. They lived in small plantation green wooden houses with tiny yards and an incredible view of the Pacific Ocean.

My paternal grandfather, Sunao Tanoue, left Kumamoto, Japan in the late 1800’s because his family were all physicians, and he didn’t want to be a physician. Instead, he and his wife Yoshi - who I’m named after - came to Hawaii and worked very hard on the plantation to make a living. Supervisors rode on horseback with whips and wages were low. Grampa started making bootleg liquor, using the root of the ti leaf plant, to support his family of 11 children.

Aunty Madge, Dad’s favorite sister, told me that every now and then Grampa would get a tip-off that the prohibition authorities were going to bust his place. She was a young girl and would run, terrified, helping Grandpa carry the still deep into the cane fields. They never arrested him. 

Grampa Tanoue was a tall, thin man who didn’t talk much. When my father brought us to visit him and gramma, I remember that he’d give me a quarter to buy candy at Paauilo Store. My most vivid memory of him is when he’d sit down to have lunch at their wooden dining table, his back to an open screened window. He’d pour cold beer slowly into a tall glass so it wouldn’t foam up too much. Gramma would serve him a bowl of steaming white rice over which he’d crack a raw egg. He’d smile. 

I was ten years old when he died on his last trip to Japan. There’s a photo of Grampa’s funeral of a large group of people in front of Paauilo Hongwanji all dressed in black and somber. My grandmother stands behind the casket which is center front. My younger sister and I are the only ones dressed in white. 

Dad loved the short, willowy mulberry tree along with the local sparrows that frequented it for food. Ma would make the best mulberry jam from the ripe purple red berries. She’d give it to me lovingly. “It’s good” Dad would say. He was right. Spread over a piece of hot toast with butter, the mulberry jam was da best! She had a stash of small canning jars full of the dark red berries in the hall closet. Some of those jars even made it to Chicago!

And then the tree was mysteriously cut down one day. My father told me why when I asked, but I didn’t understand his reason. Why would he cut down something that gave us all great joy? It was just another instance of impermanence gently slapping me in the face. Nothing lasts forever no matter how fleeting or solid it may seem. How do we appreciate people, confusion, and beauty when they’re here but then open our hands when it’s time to let go? Is not impermanence the very fragrance of our days?

Malama pono (take good care of body and mind),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

If Only We're Brave Enough to Be It

“The Hill We Climb

When day comes, we ask ourselves: 
Where can we find light
in this never-ending shade?…

…When day comes, we step out of the shade,
Aflame and unafraid.
The new dawn blooms as we free it,
For there is always light,
If only we’re brave enough to see it,
If only we’re brave enough to be it.”

— Amanda Gorman

June's first quilt and magic carpet :)

I was transfixed listening to Amanda Gorman as she read her poem at President Joe Biden’s inauguration. Her voice was full of hope, empathy, inspiration and love. Tears sprang to my eyes as I bathed in her words so full of aloha, love and beauty. 

She acknowledged the shade, the fear, the differences and went on to encourage us to keep going, to be brave enough to see and be the light. My spirit drank it in like I had been lost in a desert for a long time.

Hula and meditation have helped me tremendously during these times of great unrest and uncertainty.  My hula students have been studying and dancing together to the beautiful song, Kaiona, written by Puakea Nogelmeier. Kaiona is the goddess of the lost who helps people find their way.  

Puakea says that the song crystalized the thought that “One doesn’t get lost through ignorance, but by the distraction of beauty that lies beyond the path.” He wrote it when he was completely overwhelmed with research for his PhD. He says, “I called on Kaiona - not to directly lead me, but to remind me of where the actual path could be found. “

In Zen, we say the way or the path is reality as it is and not what we would like it to be. Seeing that makes all the difference. 

It’s wonderful to embody Kaiona's story through hula. We have been dancing about being lost and then finding ourselves. The lyrics speak of wandering astray in the highlands through the tangled forest deep. We’re dancing how we get lost through so many distractions - so many shiny things: social media, Netflix, news - all there to capture our attention. Or we get lost ruminating thoughts over and over again. Such is the nature of our heart/minds.

We can get so invested in our own worlds and who we think we are that we take things far too personally in our sometimes clumsy human interactions. The song, Kaiona, says the going can be slippery and uncertain - such are the entanglements of our hearts. As we understand ourselves better, we start to cultivate an empathy and compassion towards ourselves. This naturally then extends to others. 

When a storm comes and confusion or strong emotions arises we lose our way. With practice we have the presence of mind to pause and reflect. We dance asking Kaiona for help, for insight to point out the pathway. We practice patience through sitting or dancing and we find that we are the flower most fragrant right before a storm. We sense a deep stirring of courage and love within. We see that our sparkle, our light, has always been here, and we have always been it.

Malama pono (take care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Here's a link to a dharma talk I gave recently entitled "How Lost Am I?" There's a Part 2 which includes a part of the hula, Kaiona, danced by hula students at the end of the talk.

P.P.S. More of my writing about Kaiona in The Writer's Republik.

Let The Pathway Be Pointed Out

“E Kaiona aloha, i kuhia mai ke ‘ala.
O beloved Kaiona, Goddess of the Lost,
let the pathway be pointed out.”

— Puakea Nogelmeier, Kaiona

Kumu June and Roshi at Morton Arboretum

Happy New Year from wintry Chicago - I am deeply grateful to all of you for your support of Halau i Ka Pono and your love of hula!!!

Our adult class has been practicing a wonderful hula, Poliahu, for the snow goddess of Mauna Kea. She’s also known as our goddess of compassion. It’s been a year where we’ve needed a lot of Poliahu’s compassion and aloha. 

They perform Poliahu here for you, separate yet together. Enjoy!

I’ve been thinking about the many challenges that happened in 2020. And I’ve been thinking about what has helped me stay sane. Two practices have enriched my life immeasurably: Hula and Meditation and I want to share them with you.

I'm offering a workshop called the Path of Hula and Zen workshop on Saturday January 2nd. We’ll be practicing mindfulness meditation, self care, and hula. Kaiona, the goddess of the lost is who we’ll focus on for hula. Kaiona lives on Mt. Ka’ala in the Waianae Mountains on Oahu and according to legend, helps people find their way home. 

In Zen, we come home to ourselves when we practice meditation. What does this mean? In Zen retreats we follow a schedule that includes a good dose of meditation throughout the day. We bring mindfulness practice into our everyday life with an attention to whatever we're doing: cleaning, cooking, eating, resting. Meditation strengthens our minds by seeing and letting go of habits - thought patterns - that no longer serve. Letting go is ongoing, a discipline, that one does throughout one’s life.  

Meditation and hula have been a good combination for me. Hula requires the same kind of discipline that meditation does. It’s not a punitive definition of discipline. But rather it’s an uplifted attitude of a person able to see reality as it is and able to be with it - whether that’s happy, sad or challenging.

Hula requires a mind/body connection. Our western culture stresses mind and sometimes we forget about the body. In hula if your brain is not connected to your body, it is difficult to dance, since you are dancing a story. It takes time to make the connection so it's about repetition and the practice of patience. Hula builds connection and harmonizes body and mind.

This is the pathway of our heart, our home. Many blessings to you and your family for an aloha filled year!!!

Malama pono (take care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

Revenge of the Turkey

Hula twins Beth and Lisa Nielsen with their balloon turkey hats for Thanksgiving.

Talking stories is one of the things I loved when growing up on the Hamakua Coast of Hawaii. I was born into a family of 5 children, two loving parents, and for a time, many hunting dogs because my father liked to hunt. He hunted initially with a gun and later with a bow and arrow. 

My father and mother loved people, and my Dad especially loved to tease people he liked. He often had his hunting friends over. There were quite a few young men from Honokaa, Hilo and Kona who would hunt wild game with him up on Mauna Kea. 

They would get together and tell stories of their hunting adventures that would usually have funny twists. They’d have favorite stories they’d tell over and over again and add new details. Everyone would laugh and really enjoy their time together around our small kitchen table. We kids would be around the table hanging on every word and laughing our heads off too along with everyone else. 

My brother Carl reminded me of a funny Thanksgiving story that happened when my husband and I lived in Waimea over 20 years ago. Carl recalled that he had gone hunting with our father and an older friend, Mr. Degawa, who had recently moved from Japan to retire with his wife in Waimea. They went hunting on Mauna Kea, and Carl shot a wild turkey. 

Dad was going to cook up the wild bird to bring to our annual family potluck gathering at my second brother’s home.

I have three brothers, and with their families, friends, and our parents and their friends - we used to have wonderful large gatherings with children running around, and the tv blaring football. My sister-in-law’s dining room table would be laden with lots of delicious local style food: fried crispy reef fish, rice, smoked wild pig, roast ham, roast turkey, salted opihi (limpets), macaroni salad, different kinds of sushi - plus another table set up for more food and desserts like cakes, tri-colored jello, blueberry cream cheese pie, and some home made Japanese manju.  

And on this occasion, a roasted wild turkey. 

I will never forget that Thanksgiving when I opened the door and entered my brother Robert’s home. Right away I noticed a horrible smell that was very different from other family get-togethers. I said, wrinkling my nose, “What’s that awful smell?” Everyone else seemed to be fine and seemed not to notice it much. I kept repeating my question. No one answered me.

My brother Carl reminded me that our father did not have a sense of smell. When they got home to Kukaiau, they were so tired from hunting all day that they forgot the turkey in Carl’s ’69 Dodge truck overnight. The turkey’s inside started to rot. The next morning my parents feathered and prepped the turkey, and then my father tried a new way to cook it. He had learned it from a haole (Hawaiian term for white) guy at the hunter check-in station the day before. The haole said, “Bake it in a bag - it makes the bird so juicy, the meat falls off the bones!”

So that’s what my dad did, and there it was right next to the roasted Butterball Turkey! Well, the wild turkey was rotten on the inside so when he broke open the bag the terrible smell pervaded a lot of the house. Carl said it looked like a turkey vulture. 

Meanwhile, my father was carving it up and offering it to all the guests who passed by in the food line. I said “No thanks!” Mr. Degawa asked, “Do I have to eat that?” He kindly refused when someone (maybe me) told him “No.” My brother Robert was fuming and eventually put the turkey on the patio table.

No one took the smelly wild turkey except our friend Dean. He put a lot of cranberry on a piece and said it tasted like cottage cheese. Who knows maybe it was natural probiotics - Kim Chee is good for you and some say it smells pretty bad!

If there’s a moral to the story, it might be to take care of the inside as well as the outside. Laughter is such good medicine during these bleak times. Dad and Ma have been gone 12 and 9 years respectively. I miss them and am so grateful for the memories I have.

There’s a lot of suffering going on right now with Covid and our new “normal” of masks and strict social distancing. We are called to practice patience - Ho’omanawanui - during this time. We must be patient and respectful with ourselves. Being respectful means honoring the feelings of grief, anger and fear that arise for they are all part of our spiritual path and growth. Pausing, breathing, and bearing witness to our feelings and emotions are so important in the healing process. 

And please have fun talking stories with your friends if you're not doing it already!

Malama pono (take care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Here's a talk I gave yesterday during our ZLMC 7-day silent meditation retreat called "Everything is Enlightenment."

Stand Firm

“Onipa’a
Stand Firm”

— Motto of King Kamehameha V and Queen Liliuokalani

Four Zen Priests at Zen Life & Meditation Center

I always begin my youth hula classes with a few minutes of meditation. Two sisters attended this past Wednesday. We sat with masks on and relaxed in the backyard in comfortable chairs, listened for di sounds and looked at the sky. Basically we did nothing except notice what was going on. For instance, we saw a lone hawk soaring above the trees.

After meditation, one of my 11 year old hula students was in a pensive mood and asked, “Why do we have the virus now?” 

“That’s a good, deep probing question,” I said. Searching for an answer I asked, “What are the conditions that allow the virus to thrive?”

After a short pause she said, “ Too many people?”

“Well,” I said, “there are close to 8 billion people on our planet. And the amount of wilderness left is less than 30% of what it was a hundred years ago. Wild spaces hold a lot of biodiversity which means many different kinds of animal and plant species can live together. Biodiversity is critical for the health and well-being of our planet.” 

I paused again and then said, “Also air transportation has increased the ease with which people travel the world. This might also be a contributing condition.” And I added, “I think it also depends on the state of our immune systems.”

The rebounding of the virus is on everyone’s minds including these 11- and 12-year old girls. Onipa’a means immovable, firm, steadfast or determined. It was the motto of King Kamehameha V and Queen Lili’uokalani during their reign. It’s also the name of a song by Lil’uokalani probably written soon after August 20, 1864. That was when Kamehameha V proclaimed a new constitution that among other things, strengthened the power of the crown. This constitution wasn’t popular amongst the light-skinned folks who feared the new constitution would dilute their power. 

Onipa'a / Stand Firm 

by Lili’uokalani

Listen, friends

Of the singing school,

Let us strive together

So our work progresses.

Do not abandon

This good work.

Steadfast, stand firm,

[For] our constitution.

Let us all join together

With unanimous agreement,

Steadfast in righteousness,

Standing firm with serenity.

The message of ‘Onipa’a again resounds during this time of Covid. We must stand firm in our resolution to keep others safe by using masks and social distancing. We may have to sacrifice and not get together in the traditional ways of holidays and family gatherings, but we’re a creative lot, and I’m sure we’ll figure out how to stay connected even though we’re apart.

It’s a critical time to vote if you haven’t already! It’s encouraging to see that more than half of voting Americans have already voted but we need so many more. Please encourage all your friends and family to vote in this most important election! 

Onipa’a Kakou/ Stand Firm Everyone!!!

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

Really Get Into It

“It’s also important to get into what’s left of nature. Really get into it. 
Walk across a moor for an afternoon - be open to it, whatever the weather. 
Let yourself be affected by it. 
Because when you feel nature and adapt to it, when you let it adjust the way you walk,
your speed, your directions and plans, then you come to love it. 
This is your teacher or your mother, and you love it. 
And what you love deeply, you’ll sacrifice for. ”

— Ajahn Sucitto

Kumu June with baby Kaia, daughter of Junko and Man Chow, and newest Halau member.

We practiced hula outside together (socially distanced) a week ago in front of the Field House at Thatcher Woods in Illinois. It’s the first time we’ve danced together and outside since Covid arrived in mid-March. It was glorious!!! 

I had forgotten, how inspiring something as simple as dancing on the grass on the wide commons under a big cloudy sky could be. Dancing surrounded by trees that danced with us when the wind blew had such huge effects on my entire being.

It was a symphony of leaves rustling as branches bent and swayed with us. I heard a squirrel, in a nearby tree, chirping with me as I chanted the songs of Pele, our volcano goddess, and her sister, Hi’iakaikapoliopele, goddess of hula and healing.

Once I looked up at the sky and saw a hummingbird. It’s wings were beating fast but it stayed stationary, defying gravity, magically facing the tree's tall boughs. 

There is also a beautiful energy that builds when we physically dance together - just like when we meditate together. Being in nature amplifies that energy.

One of my favorite dances is Kukaniloko - to anchor the cry within - about the birthing stones on Oahu. It was taught to us by Kuana Torres Kahele. I love the message of the mele (song). There are so many feelings swirling about these days of Covid and the upcoming presidential election. Kukaniloko teaches us to be patient and work with our feelings instead of reacting. Notice them, pause, and bear witness to them.

You don't have to change your feelings, but to work skillfully with them, you must breathe and notice how they feel in your body. Also notice your thoughts and try not to feed them. Shift your focus to your breath, go for a walk or practice loving kindness for you and your feelings. Say to yourself over and over again like a soothing mantra, "May I be safe. May I be happy. May I be healthy. May I live with ease."

When we danced this mele, I knew we all put our everything into the dance. We were the women giving birth, the birds, the sound of the pahu (drums).  I noticed that the wind, whipping up a bit and rushing through the trees, caused them to sway in unison with us - exhilarating and still we kept our focus! 

We danced ancient and modern hula in this marvelous environment for two hours. I felt so grounded and embodied. By the time we left, Thatcher Woods was not just a park but our dear, dear old friend connected by a strong aloha (love).

Malama pono (take good care of body, mind, and heart),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Please vote everyone! And if you want to do something valuable go to Vote Forward, https://votefwd.org/ and sign up to send non-partisan letters to important swing states. It's easy to do and you'll be helping to turn out the vote!

It's Loving That Leads to Love

“When I’m moved to complain about others, I vow with all beings to remember that karma is endless and it’s loving that leads to love.”

— Robert Aitken

Chicago’s hot summer weather is changing into that of September - mild, sunny with cool morning breezes. Darkness comes earlier each evening. A full harvest moon lights up the vast sky, gentle and strong.

I’ve been meditating a lot these last six days during our silent zen retreat. I’m not trying to become enlightened. I’m just being still. Breathing. I’m trying different, subtle physical postures to see if I can breathe easier like lowering my chin or straightening my back a little more by stretching the crown of my head upwards. I’m noticing a lot of thoughts which sometimes I hang out with them and sometimes let go. I’m noticing how my brain likes to think. I’m noticing that sitting helps me cut out distractions and come home to myself.

Humility is a key teaching in Zen as well as Hula. I know how the blinding light of Ego keeps me from seeing reality as it is vs how I want to see it. Ego always has to dominate. It’s like when you’re in a room at night, and you have a light on but you can only see the inside of the room and can’t see out through the window. If you turn the light off, you can see outside much more. 

So, how to turn off the light?

Letting go is one way to dim the light of Ego. Try letting go of having to be right, of grudges, of the busy-ness we’ve let surround our days. How do we live a life that is full of ha (breath/life) and aloha (deep love/compassion) for self and other?

Remember that wisdom goes hand-in-hand with aloha. Pono means wisdom that comes from being grounded in goodness and uprightness. It is to listen, to be prepared, to respect all, to sacrifice, and to be patient. This is pono - doing what needs to be done in the circumstance you find yourself in, with humility, aloha, and steadfastness.

And pule (prayer) or meditation is also so important. In prayer/meditation we can see and feel our connection to our Kupuna (ancestors); their ‘ike (insight); the elemental forces of Nature: earth, water, wind, fire; and to each other. That is sacred. That is loving which leads to ever more love.

Malama pono (take good care of body, mind, and heart),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Sending pule (prayers) for people and all beings in California where fires are burning. Also prayers for all who are affected by Covid.

P.P.S. Watch a recent talk on youtube that Sensei June gave during the silent retreat on Genjo Koan and Love or listen to our Sunday Morning Zen podcasts. Listen to an interview that Nance Klehm did with Kumu June last month on her Spontaneous Vegetation program.

Ceremony is Our Prayer

“Ceremony is our pule (prayer) - it ascends and is heard by your land, our kupuna (ancestors), by our akua (god). It unifies us with one intention - connects us to our kupuna, their ‘ike (knowledge); elemental forces that surrounds - land, water, wind, rain, lava. We put aside shame and self-consciousness to unite our leo (voice), na’au (gut, mind, heart) and intention - altogether. Ceremonies are passed down - it’s a lineal connection and commitment to the kupuna.”

— Leilani Lindsey-Ka’apuni

June Ryushin Tanoue and Linda Gyokuzan Warring

I just took part in a beautiful Zen novitiate priest ordination called Shukke Tokudo this past Sunday for a member of our Zen community. To prepare for the ceremony, Linda shaved her head. This is a big step for many people. It’s what novitiates do traditionally. It’s a letting go of vanity and fear. It’s not required.

To be a zen priest is to renounce - to let go of everything you have and thereby to see that everything you are and have is in the service of dharma. For me dharma, like hula, means life.

It’s about healing and helping others. We offer the merit of our prayers to people who are ill or dying. We practice loving kindness with all we meet including ourselves when needed. It’s feeding hungry people with food as well as friendship.

Another important practice is humility/ha’a ha’a. It’s sacrificing the need to be right all the time. It’s practicing being open and ok with not knowing. It’s respecting everyone and seeing that everyone is your teacher. 

As Linda took her vows on Sunday, it was an opportunity for all in the community to remember why we practice and to consider again our universally applicable values. Affirm life, don’t kill. Be giving, don’t steal. Honor the body, don’t misuse sexuality. Manifest Truth, don’t lie. Proceed clearly, don’t cloud the mind. See perfection, don’t speak of others’ errors or faults. Realize Self and Other as One. Don’t elevate the self and blame others. Give generously, don’t withhold. Actualize harmony, don’t indulge in anger. Experience the intimacy of things-as-they-are, don't defile the Three Treasures.

This is the fourth time I’ve shaved my head as part of my practice as a zen priest. There is always a sense of freedom when I do it. As I let go of my hair, I also let go of thoughts: about how I look better with hair, or that people might think it’s weird, or have cancer, or whatever. Afterwards I enjoy the direct feel of water on my head as I shower, the cool morning air on my scalp as I sweep the front sidewalk, the sandpapery feel against my pillowcase or hand as the hair quickly grows back. 

But more than that, it’s an opportunity to remember my vows. Vows that seem impossible yet spur me on to do my best to live them. I was moved when I heard Leilani Lindsey-Ka’apuni talk about ceremony as pule/prayer. She is one of the ki’ai/protectors of Mauna Kea and the 'aina/land. I too believe that ceremony as prayer ascends and pervades - heard by our land, our ancestors, our god. It unifies us with one intention to connect with our ancestors, their knowledge, and the essential elements. Ceremonies are our lineal connection and commitment to the ancestors in service to life.

Malama pono (take good care of body, mind, and heart),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Here's a slide-show of the behind the scenes and ordination ceremony for Linda Gyokuzan Warring. Mahalo to Israel Kamakawiwo'ole for his timeless song and Liz Carabello for her photographs.

Do You Know How Important You Are?

“Do you know how important you are?”

— Maya Angelou

Summer Solstice is here in Oak Park, IL! The linden trees across the street are laden with fragrant flowers. I’ve started hugging the elm tree outside the front door whenever I water the plants in our beautiful new Dharma Path garden. The elm gives me deep feelings of calm and peace. Everywhere there are luscious bursts of green leaves and flowers. The weather is hot and muggy in Chicago, but there’s a breeze blowing with a promise of rain by the end of day.

I watched a documentary about Maya Angelou and David Chapelle. She told of an encounter, on the set of Poetic Justice, with Tupac Shakur. Two young black men were verbally cursing at each other. Angelou took hold of one young man saying to him in the midst of his anger, “Do you know how important you are? Do you know how our people lay spoon fashion in the slave ships in their own and each other’s excrement, urine and menstrual flow so that you could live? Do you know that a lot of us stood on auction blocks so that you could live? When’s the last time anyone told you how important you are?” 

She said that then his tears started to flow and the fight stopped. She learned later the name of the young man was Tupac Shakur, now considered to be one of the most significant rappers of all time and a symbol of resistance and activism against inequality. 

We’re witnessing an incredible time of speaking out and demonstrating for what we think to be right and just. Black, Brown, Red and Yellow Lives Matter. They haven’t mattered nearly enough for a long time because of deep insidious racist thinking. It’s going to take effort, but we can change, and we must.

I turned 70 this month and appreciate my parents and my grandparents and their parents for all the sacrifices they went through that shaped who I am. Hawaiians know this connection to kupuna/ancestors and understand that we are part of the past, present and future. 

This month is also the 20th anniversary of my ‘uniki/graduation as kumu hula. An ‘uniki is a recognition of one’s place in a lineage. And though I consider myself an imperfect link, I nevertheless embrace my tradition and try my best to carry it forward. I have spent 32 years practicing hula, almost half of those years teaching it. Hula nourishes me. It reminds me of my deep connection with Nature for Hula is Nature and Nature is Life. 

We dance for the sake of it. Hula is the energy of Nature, of our kupuna, of life, and of divine love. It is a gift of grace for our times to help us to become clear about truth and how to stand for it.

Do you know how important you are?

Malama pono (take good care of body, mind, and heart)

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

What You Are Really Prepared to Give Up

“Ask yourself what
you are really
prepared
to give up
in order to be free.”

— Uppalavana the first free women - poems of the early buddhist nuns  translated by Matty Weingast.

On Friday mornings, a group of us has gotten together after meditation to share our favorite poetry. We’ve been doing this for a few years. Now, during coronavirus times, we have continued to meet on zoom. More people have joined us as a result including Jason Poole from Pennsylvania!

This past Sunday in honor of Bob Dylan’s birthday our Friday morning group shared poetry during our Sunday Morning Zen. I shared an amazing poem written by Uppalavana, the Buddha’s foremost female disciple. She was beautiful and the daughter of a wealthy merchant so she had many suitors. Another sutra says she had a tumultuous marriage and may have been a courtesan. Instead of marrying [again] she entered the monastic life under the Buddha.

The poem is taken from the book, “the first free women - poems of early buddhist nuns” translated by Matty Weingast. It’s from the Therigatha (Verses of the Elder Nuns), one of the sacred texts of early Buddhism. It’s the world’s oldest collection of women’s literature. 

There are powerful images in this poem. Uppalavana has practiced hard. She knows her mind and how it can be used either as a knife or a chain. Her last line, “Ask yourself what you are really prepared to give up in order to be free” is one that I’ve contemplated.

Freedom. What is freedom? Freedom from what? Freedom from unpleasant thoughts and feelings? Freedom from society’s expectations? Freedom from your own expectations and judgments? Freedom from having to be right all the time? In the poem she says she handled the darkness with a chain. What does that mean? Does that mean it weighed on her? Yet she also says there is great strength in the darkness.

In my Zen tradition, sitting with a question that doesn’t have a ready answer is good practice. By that I mean to meditate with the question in your mind and staying open to not knowing or having to come up with an answer. Then just notice what comes up for you. Bearing witness, without judgment, to whatever arises is the next practice. Is anxiety, sadness, anger, confusion arising? Can you just sit and be with the feelings and let go of your thoughts?  Then can you return to your breath, your breathing body? 

If you do this practice with intention, commitment and regularity, something good will happen, something that can change your life. Just as meditation changed Uppalavana.

Malama pono (take care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

This is Humanity's Wake Up Call

“This is humanity’s wake up call. As we awaken to the truth of the profound failure of our existing institutions we also awaken to the truth of our possibilities and interconnections with one another and with the earth. With that awakening comes the recognition that we must live lightly on the earth. To war no more, to dedicate ourselves to the well-being of all in an interdependent world.”

— David Korton

It has been 6 weeks now that we’ve been sheltering-in-place. What a huge change this has been for all of us around the world! A shake-up of our “normal” lives into something totally different. I wonder how this will change our ways of thinking and being?

We’d been living quite a “caterpillar” existence pre-coronavirus — consuming, consuming, consuming. We were defined and valued as consumers. Names are powerful - we tend to live up to them. But now everything has stopped. We’re not purchasing as much as we have been. 

Two weeks ago, David Loy spoke at our Sunday Morning Zen and talked about the lifecycle of a caterpillar. The most interesting stage is the chrysalis.

The chrysalis stage is when consuming stops. This is a time when things change dramatically. The caterpillar dies and slowly changes into a soupy goo. Imaginal cells that were originally in the caterpillar continue to live and feed off of this goo. 

Initially, these imaginal cells operate as single-cell organisms - entirely independent of one another. Then they start to multiply and connect with one another forming clusters. At some point they stop acting as individual, separate cells and, instead, transform into a multiple-celled organism - a butterfly! 

Like those imaginal cells, we may initially think that we’re separate beings, but deep down I think that we know that we’re interconnected. The virus has made that clear. It’s also clear that we are all the same in that we all want to be happy, avoid illness and other negative impacts.

This chrysalis phase we find ourselves in, like the butterfly’s chrysalis, is wisdom and compassion. Imaginal cells come together like people coming together to help each other. What will emerge has got to be as magnificent as a butterfly.

I give my deep gratitude to all those working in the health care professions and food industry - farmworkers, farmers, grocery store workers, restauranteurs who make food and people who deliver helping many of us shelter-in-place relatively easily. 

Thank you to those in the teaching profession for helping our children to keep learning in a new way. And mahalo nui to all the people helping others by making masks, sheltering the ill, and being kind.

Malama pono (take care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Tanoue

Kumu Hula/Sensei

---

Zen Life & Meditation Center's ZenCare - Mask Making Project

Our ZenCare team of some 30 volunteers have been coming together to cut, sew, and deliver masks to members and non-profit organizations who serve disadvantaged populations.

Numerous people have also donated money, fabric and sewing supplies. We just received a donation of 1,000 metal nose pieces from the Smart International Association of Sheet Metal Workers Local #73!!!

TO DATE:

600 masks made

577 distributed

Thanks to the ZenCare Team!!!

Your Place is the Storm's Eye of the Universe

“Today

Today I’m flying low and I’m
not saying a word.
I’m letting all of the voodoos of ambition
sleep.

The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.

But I’m taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I’m traveling
a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.”

— Mary Oliver

A week and a half ago, when news of the coronavirus was just starting to heat up, I woke up from an early morning dream with this thought, “Your place is the storm’s center of the universe.” I’ve been sitting with this since then - not sure of its meaning. After last week of sitting in a silent mediation retreat, I’m a little clearer.

The storm’s eye is the eye of a hurricane where all is calm and peaceful. Yet it is right in the midst of dangerous, swirling, and destructive winds. Your place is where you belong yes like your home or our Zen center. But more than that, it’s the center in the midst of your being where no matter what, all is absolutely still and calm and grounded. It’s your hub of awareness, the very ground of being.

This ground of being is who we essentially are. We get so distracted and fragmented from it by our thoughts fueled by news and social media that we become top heavy — living in our heads. This causes stress and suffering. 

The coronavirus has given many of us precious time. It’s time to reconnect to our whole selves. Now we can get back to basics: take good care of our physical bodies by resting, eating healthy, exercising and sleeping. And taking good care of our minds through meditation. Then we can nurture relationships with our family and friends. 

Fear has an intelligence. We become more alert and mindful of where our hands are and what they touch. We notice our distance between people. We clean mindfully. That’s how we practice safety and prevention. Fearlessness comes from entering fear and bearing witness to it. It’s deep listening to how our body and mind are responding. Fear is always about loss. 

So we notice our thoughts and give ourselves empathy with loving attention. We work to gently release our grip on the stories we tell ourselves that are not helpful. We practice returning to the body through the breath over and over again. This is mindfulness meditation that strengthens our hub of awareness and our frontal cortex that modulates our fear response and brings us back to emotional balance. 

This place of deep calm abiding is our storm’s eye of the universe. This is our true home. It is who we are.

Malama pono (take care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Tanoue, Kumu Hula/Sensei

Run to the Rescue with Love, and Peace Will Follow

“I have been a scoundrel all my life, I’ve been selfish. I’ve been cruel at times, hard to work with, and I’m grateful that so many of you in this room have given me a second chance. I think that’s when we’re at our best: when we support each other. Not when we cancel each other out for our past mistakes, but when we help each other to grow. When we educate each other; when we guide each other towards redemption.  
That is the best of humanity.

When he was 17, my brother River wrote this lyric. He said, 
”Run to the rescue with love, and peace will follow.””

— Joaquin Phoenix Acceptance Speech for Best Actor 2020 Academy Awards 2/9/20

June Tanoue teaching Mindfulness at Holmes Elementary School in Oak Park. Photo by Nicole Sumida

It was a cold, brisk 10 minute walk from the parking lot to the security stationed at the entrance of Cook County Jail’s Division 11.   

We showed our volunteer ID and walked into Division 11’s big open atrium.  I noticed signs warning not to carry guns and in the atrium there were the words Gun Locker that was above what looked like big mailboxes.

I and two other Zen Center volunteers were there to observe a mindfulness meditation class that Claire Seryak was teaching to 10 maximum security detainees.  

We met Claire, the teacher, there.  A white officer dressed in navy blue came to escort us to the gymnasium.  He lit up when he heard we were there for Zen meditation and joked saying that it was something he could use.  We walked to a door marked C - the maximum security section - and when the door opened there was an African American man with a big bag of trash.  It looked a little ominous and I noticed a quick flash of fear come up for me.  

We were escorted into a concrete gymnasium with a lone basketball hoop and doors that had rectangular windows.  Ten African American detainees in identical worn, tan, cotton scrubs sat in sturdy, slightly beat up, plastic chairs in a big circle.  I casually looked around to see if there were any guards outside the doors.  I didn't see any.  Here we were, 4 women in a large room, with 10 maximum security detainees.

I quickly assessed the danger factor and it seemed manageable though I was still a little on edge.   My friend and co-volunteer Ruth told me once that you're absolutely safe when you volunteer at the jail.  But I also remembered that a detainee had just been murdered in his cell.  

I'm conscious of my demeanor when I'm volunteering in jail.  I know what I reflect affects others.  So I consciously worked to relax as the mindfulness teacher talked.  When it came time to introduce myself, I spoke about how important the practice of mindfulness meditation was to strengthen your brain's frontal cortex which has everything to do with emotional balance, impulse control and fear modulation.  I said that mindfulness meditation helps you to be aware of what you're thinking and doing and it's how you start to change habits that no longer serve you.

In the middle of my brief introduction, I noticed that I felt like crying - sobbing actually.  I didn't act on it and kept talking, putting the energy of that feeling into what I was saying to the men.  

The class started with three very fun mindfulness games where we paired up.  I was paired with an African American man.  It's a game where you have to really pay attention to what the other is doing.  Then came some gentle standing yoga movements.  I shared some energy medicine movement.  And then they meditated for 20 minutes at the end of which I and others felt very calm and peaceful.

On the way home I told Ruth how I felt when I was doing my introduction.  She asked if I knew what I was feeling?  I wasn't sure why I felt like crying and thought that maybe it was because I was sad and felt for the men.  She said what always gets her is feeling the indomitable spirit of people who are in such inhumane conditions. She quoted Edward Abbey who wrote, "There is a god and his name is ‘Carry On.’”

She said in Denmark and Sweden prisons are totally different than our's. Prison there is about rehabilitation and it’s proved to be effective with lower incarceration and crime rates.

I loved the statement by Joaquin Phoenix when he won the best actor award at the 2020 Academy Awards.  Supporting each other is when we are at our best.  Yes, we make mistakes, but we're not written off because of them and instead help each other to grow.  That is the best of humanity.

Malama pono (take care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Tanoue

Kumu Hula and Sensei

P.S.  Keeping this slideshow of our trip to Hawaii last December to warm your winter day.  The beautiful music “Color in Your Heart” and “Let's Kiss the Sky” is by my very dear friends on Hawaii Island Keoki Apokolani Carter and Yvonne Yarber from their new album  “Auwe Nohoʻi Pili ʻĀina Kahi.”  Enjoy and Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Learn All You Can, Then Practice

“O ke kahua mamua, mahope ke kukulu.
The site first, and then the building.
Learn all you can, then practice.”

— 'Olelo No'eau by Mary Kawena Pukui Hawaiian Proverbs & Poetical Sayings # 2459

Attending class with my Kumu Hula Michael Pili Pang and my hula sisters, Waimea, Hawaii Island December 2019

I just looked up from my desk and noticed beautiful white clouds, kind of scrappy looking with blue sky poking through cottony wispy holes.  A mass of these clouds moved across the Chicago sun, slowly yet energetically as if pushed by brisk winds.  

It's the Makahiki season in Hawaii.  This is the ancient Hawaiian new year festival that covers four consecutive lunar months in honor of the god Lono.  It used to be a time of spiritual cleansing and offerings to the gods and local ali'i, rest, practicing sports, dancing, and renewing communal bonds.  Warfare was forbidden. 

The season is marked by specific cloud formations, life giving rain and peace.  Our stay in Hawaii included a weekend of very strong 50 - 60 mph winds, drenching night rains as well as warm, humid sea air, gentle breezes, rainbows and sunny skies.

Hawaii seems like a dream now that two weeks have passed since we got back to Chicago.  But I remember the large stand of Keawe (mesquite) trees we stayed next to - largest in the state. An organic silence emanated from that forest that felt like deep samadhi.  Past the Keawe trees, there was vast open space up to Mauna Kea.  Gazing past the trees to the mountain was healing - something that my body and mind needed.

To the east and south I saw the mountains Mauna Loa and Hualalai.  The Kohala Mountains were to the north.  Zebra doves, francolins, sparrows, mynahs, and a night heron were there.  I even saw five long legged turkeys in someone's driveway on a morning walk.

I visited the kia'i (protectors) of Mauna Kea.  They were still blocking the road up to the mountain from any Thirty Meter Telescope construction vehicles. Other vehicles were passing to the side of the ten.  They've been doing this for over 180 days. They were organized and in good spirits.  

They do ceremonial protocols three times a day every day which includes oil (chanting) and hula.  I attended their noon protocol and joined the hula noa (free) section.  It was energizing to be on the ala (road) dancing with many others I didn't know and yet feeling part of a whole.  We honored the elements and especially Big Mama - Mauna Kea.   At the very end, we gathered all of our intentions/deep aloha and with hands outstretched and palms facing the mountain we sent these blessings to Big Mama.  The love for the mountain was palpable.

I know this issue has been difficult for some to agree upon and has caused splits in family and friends.  Is it possible to appreciate each other even when we disagree?  Is this what it means to practice kapu aloha or sacred love: practicing nonviolent principles of love and respect for others as well as ourselves in the face of great challenge and change?

I hope so.  We need this now more than ever.

Malama pono (take care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Tanoue, Kumu Hula and Sensei

P.S.  Here is a slideshow of our trip to Hawaii.  Beautiful music "Color in Your Heart" and "Let's Kiss the Sky" by Keoki Apokolani Carter and Yvonne Yarber from their new album  "Auwe Nohoʻi Pili ʻĀina Kahi."

Being Love by Loving, I Awaken

“DAYSTART
This day of being blessed by blessing
Being honored by honoring
Being love by loving, I awaken
”

— Bonnie Myotai Treace, Wake Up -How to Practice Zen Buddhism

Joshin and I made it to Kailua-Kona last night after an hour delay at O’Hare and a tight connection in San Francisco!  Our bodies, not used to being squeezed into a small space - the economy seats - for a total of 10 hours, took time to expand again.  ; )

This morning we rose about an hour before a Hawaiian sunrise. The sky slowly lightened with pinks and corals illuminating our lush natural surroundings.  Hawaii is gorgeous.

I hear zebra doves cooing in the distance.  I grew up hearing that cooing every time my family went to the beach.  My father drove the four of us kids and our mom there every other Sunday - what a treat!  We all loved going to the beach.  We packed a delicious lunch.  My father was good at frying up chicken and my mom, sister and I were in charge of making musubi - triangular rice balls with umeboshi (pickled plum) in the middle and nori - seaweed wrapped around it.  

From our balcony we see elegant palms, tall with thin trunks and wind-swept leaves drinking in the beautiful morning light. I recognize three big kukui trees with their full, light green leaves as if I am seeing old friends.  

I can see Hualalai, the mountain, dark green against a clear blue sky. Hualalai last erupted in 1801 and remains an active volcano. After 200 years, its slopes are again green. Houses dot the bottom half of the mountain.  A thick blanket of clouds rolls in to cover the summit during the afternoon and stay through evening.

The light blue sky matches the deep blue of the Moana - the ocean.   I hear Moana as she roars and flows onto the black lava - the pele - fingers of land again and again.  Much of the pele’s sharp edges have been worn smooth by her constant flow.  Sometimes Moana murmurs, sometimes she crashes with great energy. Pele never complains.  She is there like a true friend noticing and bearing witness without trying to change Moana.

Today, we went to Kahalu’u Beach for a swim.   It was a renown snorkeling park with schools of reef fish.  When I snorkeled there 20 years ago, I was entranced by the beautiful fish.  But, I only saw yellow tangs here and there.  Where have all the fish gone?  

Resting and enjoying nature are so important.  Always hustling and bustling about is a good way to forget what's important in life.  December is a time to be with people you love, your family and friends.  You may not always get along but nothing is perfect.  

Tonight I had dinner with my two brothers and sister, talking stories, and laughing.  Catching up.  It was good. I also visited my kumu and hula sisters in the halau I spent many hours dancing in over the 10 years of my training.  It was good to be with them also.

Wishing you, your family, friends and all beings a safe and joyous holiday season!

Malama pono (take care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Tanoue

Kumu Hula and Sensei

P.S.  Here is a slide show of Halau I Ka Pono's 10th Anniversary Year - 2019. Photographs by Elizabeth Carabello, Tom Neiman, Robert Althouse and June Tanoue. Beautiful music by Kuana Torres Kahele and Jason Poole. Happy Holidays everyone!!!