The Point is to See Life as the Practice Field

“The point is to see life as the practice field. 
Every aspect of our life has to become practice.”

— Bernie Glassman

In July, my husband and I drove from Chicago through the beautiful states of Iowa, Nebraska, South Dakota and Wyoming marveling at the wide open space, clouds, cornfields, rolling prairies, Black Hills, and buttes. As we drove, we prepared for the Native American Bearing Witness Retreat, the 7th annual event with Lakota elders organized by the Zen Peacemakers International. 

We met Native American elders Manny and Renee Iron Hawk, Violet Catches, and Wendall Yellow Bull and nearly 30 participants from around the country and Great Britain. We sat together in beautiful natural surroundings on sacred land: Spearfish Canyon with chipmunks and birds, Matxo Paha (Bear Butte in South Dakota), and Matxo Thipila (Bear Lodge Butte or Devil’s Tower in Wyoming) with prairie dogs and magpies.

We listened and learned about the Lakota sacred way of life: Wolakota and Tiospaye. Wolakota means wholeness of life, harmony, peace and balance with everything and everyone. Tiospaye means extended family or kinship.  

We were honored to visit, with them, two of their most sacred sites: Bear Butte and Bear Butte Lodge. We learned how to make prayer flags with black, white, red, and yellow cloth. We tied tobacco in one corner of each cloth praying all the while. We held prayers in our heart for sick family and friends, for people suffering, for the earth as we tied the flags onto limbs of trees.  

Manny Iron Hawk, a fluent Lakota speaker and storyteller, told stories of Iktomi, their trickster, bringing welcome laughter to us. Manny goes to elementary schools and tells the children stories of their culture. He also told gut-wrenching stories of his grandparents who were survivors of the Wounded Knee Massacre of 1890.  

Manny’s wife Renee Iron Hawk, a social worker, said, “Trauma is passed down generations and becomes part of our DNA. But we can work with it because we are strong. We are survivors.” 

Wendall Yellow Bull, former reservation police chief, told us that the Pine Ridge Reservation where he lives, has a population of 40,000 people with 80% unemployment. “It’s a prime market for illicit behavior.”

Bernie Glassman started these retreats after asking himself these questions on his 55th birthday in 1994, “How to bring Zen into our life? But Zen is Life. What is there to bring? And into what? The point is to see life as the practice field. Every aspect of our life has to become practice. What forms can we create in modern society that will be conducive to seeing the oneness of life? What are the forms that will make it easier to experience the interconnectedness?”

Native American history, like Native Hawaiian history, is a shadow for America and for all of us. These bearing witness retreats are ways to open, look at shadows, see interconnections, and to heal. It’s a long journey that's well worth the effort. There's still so much to share. I'll be writing more about the retreat and giving another talk in the future. 

A heartfelt thank you to all who contributed to our participation in the Bearing Witness Retreat! It's not too late to contribute if you haven't yet with the Donate button below. Any donations collected this month will go to the Zen Peacemakers for future Native American Bearing Witness Retreats.

Mahalo nui loa and malama pono (take good care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Here's the link to the Sunday Morning Zen talk about the Bearing Witness Retreat that four of us gave. https://youtu.be/FfX1x86wH5k

P.P.S. Link to Bearing Witness Slide Show https://youtu.be/klfdKPfYfAY

Wild Geese Revealing the Whole of Heaven

There are times when I find it most necessary to have no schedule, commune with nature, and do whatever it is I feel like doing. That time renews and refreshes me. It reminds me of the whole of heaven, the whole of life.

June is the month I take that break. Rest from a busy year! Last week, we drove to East Peoria and rested on the banks of the Illinois River in an airbnb with a porch that faced tall huge cottonwoods and the river.  

The Illinois, that maps also call the Upper Peoria Lake, moves very slowly. It’s home to flocks of geese and white pelicans. I saw the pelicans one morning flying near the other shore in a line over the river. Exciting! The cottonwoods are also home to many birds. We saw a dazzling red-headed woodpecker and a red-bellied woodpecker with white markings on its black wings, two dark hummingbirds, blackbirds, and starlings. A couple of killdeers and their babies lived nearby. We even saw the resident muskrat, a dark furry mammal that looks like a cross between a beaver and a rodent.  

Sitting on the back porch in silence watching, listening, and feeling was profound.  There was generally a breeze and even a stiff wind on the hottest days making sitting outside quite bearable. The river’s different faces ranged from calm blue and glassy in bright sunshine to dark gray with small white caps in a fierce thunder and lightning storm.  

I am spoiled being from Hawaii and very particular regarding where I go swimming. But my husband loved being in the river and could easily be in it for an hour. One hot day, I dipped in for maybe 10 minutes. The water was warm from the roasty 90 degree weather. I liked the warmth but I can’t say that I was relaxed floating in the murky greenness. It was waist deep shallow and the river’s floor was smooth and soft the way a fine chocolate pudding feels but filled with sharp rocks and clams and who knows what else that poked at my feet.  

I could easily imagine monsters lurking there if I let my mind go. It wasn’t comfortable and after 10 minutes it was time to leave the murkiness. I paddled my way back then stepped gingerly to shore. Relieved! The next day I saw a gaggle of geese happily bathing and grooming themselves where I had entered and left the lake. Despite my unease with murkiness, it felt good to be one of the many beings that shared this river if even for 10 minutes.

My husband and I didn’t stay completely off the grid. We watched the Congressional hearings on the January 6th riots. I felt good being an American watching testimony from many of the witnesses like Arizona House Speaker Rusty Bowers. And then later in the week, the Supreme Court struck down Roe vs Wade declaring a woman’s constitutional right to abortion, upheld for nearly 50 years, no longer exists. This was an opportunity to practice patience! Abortion is never an easy decision to make for a woman. Yet it is her body and she has every right to make the decision!

We continue now with a road trip to South Dakota where we will go on the Zen Peacemakers’ Native American Bearing Witness Retreat. We’re taking our time. We’re reading up on the history that Native Americans have lived in the different towns we drive through along the way. It’s mostly a sad history of Euro-Americans taking these beautiful lands and pushing Native Americans out. It’s good to be aware of this history. I don’t know how it will impact the future, but I know it will for me.

We’ve raised half of our $3,500 goal for the retreat so would love your contribution if you can afford it! Click on this link for info on the bearing witness retreat. Any amount appreciated! https://conta.cc/3y3tPXF

Mahalo nui loa and malama pono (take good care of body, mind and heart),

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

“Wild geese pass
Revealing
The whole of heaven”

— Takaha Shugyo

Stir the Darkness Around You and Bring Forth the Light

“Stir the darkness around you;
and bring forth the light - e ala e!”

— Excerpt from Brandy Nalani McDougall’s poem, ‘ekolu The Salt-Wind - Ka Makani Pa’akai

It’s a comfortable 81 degrees F under the shade of our spreading plum tree. Bright pink single petal peonies with cheery yellow anthers have popped underneath our small tart cherry tree. Deep purple clematis with cream colored anthers are starting to climb the trellis on the sides of the walls. My favorite month has begun!  

What a treat it is to sit outside…strong breezes are dancing through the great trees in the distance. The wind energizes everything. And there are casualties. Many oblong baby green plums litter the ground; they couldn’t hang on in the bustling wind. Ahhh, another summer without luscious fruit to eat from our own tree.

Large flat stones line the ground with moss (and weed) filled crevices in between. If I look at the crevice, I feel the weeds magnetizing my attention. “Pull me,” they say, “pull me.” I listen to their call and imagine that it’s the back of a giant tortoise that I’m cleaning. There are also tiny plants that also fill the crevices - like the tiny green leaf creeping thyme that smells minty when you gently crush it between your fingers.

The birds that gather around the garden mesmerize me. Two black starlings sit on the telephone wire high above the parking pad just outside the garden. They utter an occasional squawk when they fly to change positions. Brown sparrows chirp hidden in the dense green leaves of the plum tree.  

I look up at the cloudy sky and see a few swallows soaring and twittering as they catch bugs. Swallows are the dive bombers of the bird world. They are so fast! The subtlest change of their wings create flight patterns that glide and frolic through the air.

Handsome robin redbreast has flown onto one of the raised beds, looking for worms. He pecks through the dark watered soil in hopes of finding a juicy one. He finds no worms but definitely unearths goodies for his meal.  

It’s these little moments that make me happy. They fortify me as I practice not knowing and bear witness to darkness swirling. When I deeply practice not knowing and bearing witness, light always comes forth. I’m grateful to be alive in my 72nd year on the planet and able to keep practicing Hula and Zen. They nourish me as does our backyard garden.  

What is it that you find nourishing? 

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

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

May Day is Lei Day... Garlands of Flowers Everywhere

“May Day is Lei Day in Hawaii, garlands of flowers everywhere.
All of the colors in the rainbow, maidens with blossoms in their hair.  
Flowers that mean we should be happy, throwing aside a load of care.
Oh, May Day is Lei Day in Hawaii, Lei Day is happy days out here.”

— Ruth and Leonard “Red” Hawk, 1929

Brilliant magenta and pink magnolias, perky yellow daffodils and the plum tree in our back yard has burst into white blossoms filling my heart with joy!!! May is always an exciting time when flowers start appearing again in the Oak Park neighborhood as it means spring is here after our winter snows! Happy May Day, Everyone!  

I have fond memories of May Day growing up in Hawaii. It is when Hawaii celebrates flowers with Hula. Every year at Paauilo Elementary and Intermediate School, all the classes would spend months preparing a dance for our May Day celebration. The public was invited and many parents attended to see their children perform. Everyone wore leis, colorful aloha shirts, and dresses. Moms and aunties wore billowy muumuus with bright flowery patterns. 

Most of the classes danced a hula, but in Mrs. Nishiyama’s 3rd grade, there was always a maypole dance. Multi-colored ribbons were strung from the top of a pole. Each student held a ribbon. When the music started, boys went one way and girls went the other taking turns lifting their ribbon for a student to go under and then over. 

The ribbons fluttered in the gentle breezes. We’d weave the pole down to about half way and then turn around and unweave it. We had to practice many times to get it right. When we did, I loved seeing how dancing together, we created a gorgeous multi-colored woven pole and then unwove it returning to long fluttering ribbons.

There was also great pageantry. We had a May Day court with two ninth graders chosen to be king and queen, representing the royalty that once ruled the islands before annexation. The king wore a beautiful red cape, the queen wore a white dress with Victorian collar and sleeves. She always danced a beautiful, dignified hula. 

Students represented princesses of the eight major islands wearing their official colors and flowers.

• Hawaii Island - red and lehua

• Maui - pink and lokelani

• Molokai - green and kukui nut flower

• Oahu - yellow and ilima

• Kaho’olawe - gray and hinahina

• Lanai - orange and kaunaoa

• Kauai - purple and mokihana

• Ni’ihau - white and pupu shell

We’d cheer everyone and then we’d rise and solemnly sing Hawaii Pono’i, the national anthem of Hawaii composed by King David Kalakaua in 1876 honoring King Kamehameha I who brought all the islands together as one in 1810.  

There was a lei and flower arrangement contest set up on tables in the library. I’d marvel at the gorgeous varieties of lei and flowers displayed.  

Flowers remind us of the impermanence of life - beautiful just for a few days and then they are gone - year in and year out. What generosity they bestow when they bloom - the generosity of the universe. I am deeply grateful.  

Come join us for our first ‘May Day Is Lei Day Celebration’ with hula, fragrant leis, and potluck for those who come in person!  May 1st, 3 - 4:30 pm CST. It will be hybrid - so all long distance friends and family can join the fun too! $10 donation benefits the Halau.

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

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

The Gate of Emancipation is Open

“The self and the things of the world are just as they are. 
The gate of emancipation is open.”

— Dogen Zenji

---

Last week, we carelessly left the front door unlocked and a stranger walked into our center and home at 3:28 am Wednesday. A thin black man wearing a mustard colored shirt and a surgical mask that dipped below his nose was photographed by our front door security camera.

My husband and I were fast asleep. He walked to the back of the zendo and took the blue and cream satin altarcloth I made and a small black speaker sitting on the cabinets. He came upstairs and entered my study which is kitty-corner from our bedroom. He took my iPhone, wallet, and laptop.

On his way out he looked in the hall closet and found my backpack to put his newly acquired things in. He dropped the altar cloth hurrying back downstairs to empty out the donation box of some $8 in small bills and change. He left the building at 3:37 am wearing my bright polka-dot backpack on his back.

When I woke, I noticed a few odd things: like my desk being slightly pulled away from the wall, no iphone anywhere, and the altarcloth upstairs on the dining room table. My husband, who awakens first, found the cloth on the floor in front of the hall closet and put it on the table. After morning meditation, four hours after our stranger left, our executive director told us that someone had been in our building. Ahh, a break-in. It all started to make sense. 

We went into action. Through the Find My iPhone application on my desktop computer and working in concert with the Oak Park police, we were able to “get our man” a couple of miles away. His photograph, the polka dot backpack, and pinging the iPhone when the police were close to him helped find him and recover all of my belongings.

He’s awaiting trial and my things are still at the police station. 

A couple of people have asked if I feel traumatized knowing an intruder was so close. I thought about it. Initially I felt uneasy that someone had been so close. But soon after, I felt fine. There’s a calmness at our Zen Center and Halau that happens when people meditate regularly in a space. Did that have any effect on him? I wonder.

We all have the choice to do something or not. To take something or not. Our second Buddhist precept says, “I take up the way of taking only what is freely given and giving freely all that I can.” This same man came in once before and asked me for money to buy food. I could have given him some dollars but I did not.  

The gate of emancipation is open. Let’s walk through. 

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

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Listen to a talk I gave recently on Sunday Morning Zen on "Buddhas in Training - The Way of the Bodhisattva" (enlightened being) https://youtu.be/1H0_0jRYdac.

Everything is the Breath

Everything is the breath. Breathe.  

Without it, we die. With it we live, think, love, connect, dance. This breath is not extravagant but very precious. 

Gentle February sunlight streams through my window onto my desk. Four magenta orchids enliven the atmosphere. They sit on my desk’s southern sunny edge. A small, triangular, white Alabama quartz crystal; an oval subtly-speckled, moss green labradorite; and a golden Tibetan singing bowl are close by. Photographs of people I love - my parents, Papa Henry, my husband, and my kumu - anchor the southwestern corner of my desk.

A stack of files used to sit right in front of the flower pot. That made it hard to see the orchids or the photographs. All I saw were files and work. I decided about a week ago to move the files. Now I’m surprised and nourished by my vivid orchids and family of photographs.  

So much energy gets released when I clear out things. Clutter seems to be life-energy in stasis. No movement. No dance. No presence. Could having a cluttered mind make it hard to be present? How do you remove mind clutter?

A paragraph in Zenju Earthlyn Manuel’s new book, The Shamanic Bones of Zen caught my eye.

"Zazen is a prolonged ritual of seeing and listening…. Za means sitting and zen means meditation…. To take one’s seat in Zazen is to sit upon the earth. It is to connect to the source of our life which is the breath passed on by the ancestors."

I had never thought of sitting meditation as a prolonged ritual of seeing and listening. But it is! Zazen is practicing to see what your mind is doing and listening to what your heart and body are feeling. It’s bringing attention to thoughts and letting them go. Always clearing and coming back to re-focus on breath. Again, again, and again.  

Breath passed on by the ancestors speaks of our deep interconnection to the past, present, and future. Can we awaken to energy that suffuses the world, the universe, our bodies? Find out. Become intimate with your breath.

Everything is the breath. Breathe.

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

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Listen to a talk I gave recently on Sunday Morning Zen on "Buddhas in Training - The Way of the Bodhisattva" (enlightened being) https://youtu.be/1H0_0jRYdac.

Happy Lunar New Year of the Tiger!

Happy Lunar New Year of the Water Tiger!!!

Chinese mythology says that the tiger is the king of all their animals. As a zodiac sign Tiger symbolizes power, courage, confidence, leadership and strength. It’s a year that will bring new changes and encourage people to overcome all challenges and difficulties. I was born in the year of the Tiger.

Last week I had an interesting dream. I dreamed that I saw two oceans coming together. This meeting formed a straight line from the shore back to the horizon. This was a powerful event. I thought I should go up to a corner of a ledge of a building to see from a higher vantage point. The words “continental divide” came to mind which I thought was curious because of this coming together of two great oceans. They were eye-to-eye so to speak, not merging into one ocean, and yet they were one.

I walked up to the high ledge and as I got closer to the corner, I felt a strong altered state arising in me. The energy felt too strong. I was afraid that I would lose balance and fall into the ocean. So I backed off.  

When I awoke I gently chastised myself saying, “why didn’t you go to the ledge and see/experience that power? It’s only a dream!”  

Thich Nhat Hanh writes in his book, Fear: Essential Wisdom for Getting Through the Storm:

“We have a great, habitual fear inside ourselves. We’re afraid of many things — of our own death, of losing our loved ones, of change, of being alone. The practice of mindfulness helps us to touch nonfear. It’s only here and now that we can experience total relief, total happiness… 

…In the practice of Buddhism, we see that all mental formations — including compassion, love, fear, sorrow, and despair — are organic in nature. We don’t need to be afraid of any of them, because transformation is always possible.”

What could be a better practice than transforming fear into love? This practice takes courage, diligence and patience - all aspects of a meditation and hula practice - perfect for the Year of the Tiger!

May your lives be joyous, healthy, and blessed!!!

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

When you rest, you catch your breath and it holds you up, like water wings

“When you rest, you catch your breath and it holds you up, like water wings.”

— Anne Lamott

Resting is good.  My husband and I have been resting these last three weeks in Nuevo Vallarta at the Vidanta Resort on Banderas Bay.  We have a room with a balcony that faces a wild green space that contains a huge lagoon.  The light makes the water green in the mornings and reflects the trees that surround it.  The afternoon light turns the water blue green.  White egrets, brown pelicans, black cormorants and magnificent frigate birds glide above the lagoon ever vigilant for fish.  

Some days, the fish are active - turning their silvery bodies to sparkle on the surface of the water.  But mostly the green water is mirror-like with gentle breezes making ripples.  I see small red koli (castor bean) trees interspersed in the wild space.  Surrounding the lagoon are larger trees where 20 or more huge yellow and orange striped iguanas snooze in the sunlight on the top branches.  They look like sleeping dragons sunbathing.

Every dawn and dusk, a cauldron of bats - hundreds and maybe thousands - fill the area above the wild space. Squeaking and flying erratically, these social mammals appear to be having a wonderful time swarming together.  They fly in the open space and then over the tall resort and hotel buildings toward the great Pacific Ocean eating bugs and mosquitos.

Early to mid-mornings, I walk on the gray sandy beach at Banderas Bay.  The ocean matches the color of the sand.  Olive Ridley turtles lay eggs there. The dark gray color of the baby turtles are a perfect match for the sand and sea. 

On Christmas Day I saw a Mexican couple with two young girls - maybe 5 and 7 - gathered over a little baby turtle.  It was still alive and they were trying to help it get past the waves.  The mother, a short Mexican woman, spoke to me in Spanish and showed me her hand. It had blood on it…baby turtle blood. In broken English, she said the pajaros - the birds - had killed two - but this one was alive.  My heart lept.

As I continued walking I saw an elder, heavy-set Mexican woman dressed in a white blouse with embroidered flowers on it.  She had the arm of a younger woman - perhaps her daughter.  They were walking slowly toward the ocean.  “Feliz Navidad” I said with some difficulty and nodded.  I noticed my eyes filling with tears.  Why was it so hard to speak?

I remembered when we lived in Waimea, Joshin and I would ask my parents to join us at the beach every Christmas.  They would always come bringing a picnic lunch to share.  And the food would taste doubly good at the beach with family!   We’d choose a picnic table under the cool shade of a keawe (mesquite) tree.  Ma would have a towel spread on the picnic table for our game of rummy. 

When I saw that elderly Mexican woman with her daughter, all of a sudden, a deep longing and sadness came up for me.  I thought about my mother who has been gone a decade now.  I missed her.

Appreciate your families while you have them .  Time passes swiftly.  May you all step into 2022 with deep love and appreciation for who you are as well as your families - Buddhas all - now and forever.

Love is Like a Bird - There is No Branch it Does Not Perch Upon

“He manu ke aloha, ‘a’ohe lala kau ‘ole.
Love is like a bird - there is no branch that it does not perch upon.
Love is an emotion shared by all.”

— #804, Mary Kawena Pukui Olelo No’eau, Hawaii Book of Proverbs and Poetical Sayings

Birds are some of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. My husband and I love to watch birds on our vacations. So when hula choreography includes birds, I am hooked! Kuana Torres Kahele wrote, sang and choreographed an amazing song called Kukaniloko that includes two birds.

Kukaniloko is a place on Oahu where certain royal women went to give birth. It is located on the Wahiawa Plateau, in the center of the island, between two mountain ranges: the Waianae and the Ko’olau. It is the piko/center of the island and a powerful and peaceful spot. Kukaniloko means to anchor the cry from within. Childbirth can be such intense physical pain. How does one anchor the cry from within when giving birth? How do we find the strength and courage to do so? We find it by working with deep, deep suffering. To birth something new is a very great miracle. 

The song tells the story of birth, the cutting of the umbilical cord, and the sounding of two great pahu (drums) which announce the new being to the entire island. Then comes the appearance of the ‘io/Hawaiian hawk, a symbol of vast vision and fearlessness. The ‘io is the greatest Hawaiian bird because it flies highest and closest to Akua/God. 

The story continues with the golden ‘ilima (Sida fallax) blossom, flower of Oahu, made into a lei once only worn by high chiefs. The ilima flowers are associated with Laka, the deity of the hula. Leis also represent the circle of life.

Another of my favorites - the ‘o’o bird - formerly of the honeyeater family is now thought to be extinct. It was about 8 inches long, black with yellow/orange tufts. It was last seen on Kauai in 1987. When I dance the ‘o’o flying, it’s a symbol of all that is good and sacred and beautiful - if even just for a moment. There are more challenges ahead, but there is also more love, more peace, and more ways to be of service.

Zen priest/teacher and author Joan Halifax in her book Standing at the Edge says there’s an alchemy that happens when suffering and compassion dance. The gold of our character emerges - the gold of our hearts.

Wishing you all a very joyous and safe holiday season!!

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

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Here are two videos of our hula at Cissy's 90th Birthday Party: Kukaniloko written and sung by Kuana Torres Kahele and Ha'ena I Ka Ehukai, written and sung by Kamaka Kukona.

Mana Ripples Over the Land of Kaunalewa

“Ho’ale’ale Mana I ke kaha o Kaunalewa.
Mana ripples over the land of Kaunalewa.
Said of the movements of a dance. A play on ‘ale’ale (to ripple like water), referring to the gestures of the hands, and lewa (to sway), referring to the movement of the hips.”

— #1018, Mary Kawena Pukui Olelo No’eau, Hawaii Book of Proverbs and Poetical Sayings

Enjoying Indian Summer at Thatcher Woods - Photo by Lyndi Wellhausen

We’re in the first month of our Hula-Inspired Practice 100 Day Challenge. It’s loosely modeled after the Zen Ango (peaceful dwelling) that the Zen Life & Meditation Center is doing right now. The Ango is an intensive practice period designed to take your practice deeper through meditation, study, and ritual.  

Our 100 Day Hula-Inspired Practice Challenge is meant to support your wellness by helping you make hula, meditation, and nature practice regular habits in your lives. It's an intentional action that brings the sacred into everyday life.

To be a hula dancer, one must truly love Nature. Can you be intimate with watching the way leaves flutter when a breeze blows? Or marvel at the grandeur of the stillness of a lake. Or relish being amongst trees?

I’ve been walking around my neighborhood as part of my self-care regimen. It’s especially fun now because of all the Halloween decorations - lots of skeletons, spiders, ghosts - meant for all trick or treaters.  

I’ve tried a practice of being fully present when I walk and thanking each tree as I pass them. Trees convert carbon dioxide into life-giving oxygen for us. They are home to birds and squirrels and insects. They bring rain, shade, beauty and so much more. By about the fourth tree, I was totally moved and in tears.

Watching a person dance hula can also be an inspiring and moving event. In addition to watching hands ripple like water and bodies sway like branches in a gentle breeze, the love that emanates from hearts communicating aloha always brings me to tears.

Hula helps us be mindful with our bodies. Meditation helps us wake up to our precious lives. Nature helps to nurture our lives.

That is our Hula-Inspired practice. What could be more sacred than that?

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

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Here are 2 talks I gave on Grief during our Fall Sesshin (silent meditation retreats): Part 1 and Part 2.

P.P.S. The students of Halau i Ka Pono dance Poliahu https://youtu.be/RpZv9U2OVKk lyrics by Frank Kawaikapuokalani Hewett and sung by Teresa Bright. Poliahu is the Hawaiian Goddess of the Snow also known as the goddess of compassion. She lives atop Mauna Kea.

Heavily Weighted is Hanalei in the Rain

Heavenly Cranes

In Memory of Robert Naoyuki Tanoue and Margaret Mitsuko Tanoue

“Lu’ulu’u Hanalei i ka ua nui; kaumaha i ka noe o Alaka’i.
Heavily weighted is Hanalei in the pouring rain; laden down by the mist of Alaka’i.
An expression used in dirges and chants of woe to express the burden of sadness,
the heaviness of grief, and tears pouring freely like rain.
”

— #2034, Mary Kawena Pukui Olelo No’eau, Hawaii Book of Proverbs and Poetical Sayings

New Phoenicians: Josey Sanders, June Tanoue, Jeremy Naylor, Terry Clarbour

September has been quite a month! I’ve been working with and learning about grief in an amazing twelve-week program called the Phoenix Project developed by Dr. Jack Miller. It ended this past Saturday night for four of us and I’ve been integrating a lot since then.

My final presentation honored my father, a strong light of love in my life. My earliest memory is when I was maybe 3 years old. I made up a dance at one of his gatherings of friends. When I was done I ran and jumped into his arms with joy as he hugged me with delight laughing with happy encouragement. 

Dad loved Hawaiian music and he had a radio tuned to it all the time - in his garage where he fixed cars for a living and at the beach where we went to relax and enjoy nature. He’s been gone 13 years now.  

“Heavenly Cranes” is the wall hanging I created in honor of Dad and Ma. I used red brocade that my maternal great aunt from Hiroshima had sent me to sew into my Buddhist okesa (robe) along with white satin and Japanese cotton. Hula students joined me to dance to his favorite song, Poliahu, sung by Frank Hewett, which I danced at his funeral.

Zen teacher Domyo Burk defines grief as love in the face of loss. Hawaiians have big generous hearts that love. So when someone dies, it’s only natural to grieve with tears flowing freely like rain.  They also have dirges and chants of woe to express the burden of sadness, and the heaviness of grief.

Yet when my father died, I didn’t have many tears which surprised me. Though we had been expecting his death as he grew weaker with the cancer, it was still a shock when I received the call that he had died. And I was also confused.  

I understood the nature of impermanence. After all the Buddha’s last words were, “All conditioned reality is of the nature to decay — strive on diligently.” Did this mean that I didn’t thoroughly understand impermanence if I lost it with uncontrollable weeping?  

Boy I can surely go through a lot of machinations in my mind. In the meantime, it was easy for me to bypass my grief, even though I felt numb a lot of the time. I didn’t know how to deal with it so I just redirected my attention and distracted myself…so many distractions to choose from: movies, busyness of the funeral, social media, alcohol, marijuana. I was emotionally stuck.

The past 12 weeks have been a time when I’ve been cultivating the capacity to open to grief. To feel, breathe and bear witness to grief or sadness as it arises. Zen priest and teacher Joan Halifax says, “To deny grief is to rob ourselves of the heavy stones that will eventually be the ballast for the two great accumulations of wisdom and compassion.”

My practices of meditation and hula continue to open my heart. I’ve found grief there, but I’m also finding compassion, resilience and courage.

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

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue, Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Here are 2 talks I gave on Grief during our Fall Sesshin (silent meditation retreats): Part 1 and Part 2.

P.P.S. The students of Halau i Ka Pono dance Poliahu https://youtu.be/RpZv9U2OVKk lyrics by Frank Kawaikapuokalani Hewett and sung by Teresa Bright. Poliahu is the Hawaiian Goddess of the Snow also known as the goddess of compassion. She lives at the top of Mauna Kea.

The Hawk Poises in the Calm

“Kaha ka ‘io ka malie.
The ‘io bird (hawk) poises in the calm.
Said in admiration of a handsome person. An ‘io dips gracefully as it flies, with wings that flap slowly. ”

— #1288, Mary Kawena Pukui, Olelo No’eau, Hawaii Book of Proverbs and Poetical Sayings

'Io Hawaiian Hawk by Alan Schmierer

I’ve been seeing hawks on my early summer morning walks in Oak Park. One morning, I heard crows cawing loudly. I looked up and saw five of them in a huge tree that had little or no leaves. They were cawing because a large brown hawk was circling about very near to them. 

Then the hawk joined them on that same big tree. 5 crows and a hawk in the cool, early morning calm. The crows got very silent, as if they were communicating telepathically with the hawk. 

Hawks or ‘io are ‘aumakua in Hawaii. ‘Aumakua are family or personal gods or ancestors who might take the shape of sharks, pueo/owls, plants, rocks, some birds, dogs, or clouds. Humans do not harm their ‘aumakua and ‘aumakua protect or warn humans in visions, dreams and calls. 

I remember seeing hawks soaring around huge eucalyptus trees where I grew up in Kukaiau, Hawaii. Twelve years ago, just after we had buried my father in the Hilo Veteran’s Cemetery and we were walking to our cars, we saw an ‘io soaring from the tall trees that border the cemetery in a straight diagonal line down over the cemetery to an unknown destination. 

Hawks were a symbol of royalty in old Hawaii. They fly highest in the air and have great vision. According to the American Bird Conservancy, they now breed only on Hawaii Island. Their biggest threats are deforestation from agriculture, development and logging along with habitat degradation from introduced livestock and invasive plants. The ‘io were delisted as an endangered species in 2020 but the International Union for Conservation of Nature calls them near threatened. 

In hula we practice, practice, practice so our bodies can learn the steps and hand motions of the story we are telling through dance. Our bodies will slowly learn these motions if we are patient. This is how I was taught by my teachers. Anything good takes time and effort marked by patience, and aloha - deep love and respect for yourself and the tradition. You have to slow down to learn. 

You also have to give up any notions of perfection. Let those thoughts go and just be with your body as it is. Focus on the steps first, then focus on the hand motions. After awhile, your body will learn the moves and you can put hands and feet together. Only then can you start to think about the story you are telling and bring emotions to your motions.  

That’s the way you can be like an ‘io poised in the calm gracefully dipping, with wings flapping slowly. 

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

June Kaililani Ryushin Tanoue

Kumu Hula, Sensei

P.S. Enjoy the students of Halau i Ka Pono dancing Poliahu https://youtu.be/RpZv9U2OVKk lyrics by and sung by Frank Kawaikapuokalani Hewett and Teresa Bright. Poliahu is the Hawaiian Goddess of the Snow atop Mauna Kea also known as the goddess of compassion. Mahalo to video editor Oscar Caudell.

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