Pete and I have been waking up at different times during the night. One of us is stirred by something: JOTS the kitty wants back into the Quonset and is leaping off the porch rail; I climb over Pete's long legs to use the toilet; a dream more vivid than a sunrise rousts one of us. This is not unusual for us, but it has been more frequent during the nights just prior to the last Full Moon and it continued through last night.
When we are awake, energy is amassing. And you know what that can mean! Yes, and it can also mean there are things to talk about. Talkingstory in the dark is a splendid thing. We were doing that last night. Our days are full, each of us doing things, creating lives we love: Pete is out building a chicken coop as I peck away at lei of words that are flowing through my fingertips. We are inspired and happy, overflowing with connections and integration; and more in alignment with who we really are.
One thing that has made itself very plain to me is the value of Kokua and its partner Laulima. Kokua and Laulima are at the core of Island people's way of being. Something in the story Navigator and teacher Nainoa Thompson wrote has linked me to the plain and penetrating truth and value of cooperation. He recalled a childhood memory that has served him through his journey as wayfinder and makua o'o. He remembers:
I digested that memory over the past few days, and recall my own experiences of finding a balance between competition and cooperation. I think of my mom's poi bowl, and the dust that collected in and around it. I think about where that poi bowl has traveled since Ma passed to spirit. I remember the recent conversation my son and I had while he was in France teaching a group of French women. "They want to learn hula and lomilomi, but they don't want to go together and wash the dishes." He said. They want the goodies but didn't get the message (yet) of learning to be a community, working together -- cooperation and laulima (many hands together) is where the good stuff must start.
Pete and I talked and talked into the night and drew connections that are made in the dark like seeds do when you cover them with dirt. Germination. The long worthy values of the Native Hawaiian Moon Calendar are based on a community that lived and continues to live on tiny outcroppings of land more distant from continents or land mass than any other on the Earth. Hundreds of thousands of ocean miles surround these tiny land spots -- these islands and from this life people are humbled and honed. Cooperating with ke kai, ka wai, ka 'aina, na makani, and the gods of all who provide, 'competition' on an everyday ke'ia a me kela (in the here and now, here and there) isolates.
I learned this lesson over an over again when we lived in our car parked in parking lots, front yards and beach front parking spaces. I learned what it was like to be viewed as too different, we became off-limits for a time. What we looked like, who we thought we were, and what we believed was available for us to cooperate with, and who could cooperate with us was a'ole ... nothing, no one. The contrasting realities of living from our car allowed us to cooperate with the inner most part of who we are, without physical comfort or physical 'stuff.' There is more awareness and acceptance of my own worth and well-being because of the journey that has brought us here to Whidbey Island.
We learned to begin again, starting with nothing we learned to listen to our na'au(gut). I used the 'Ole Moons to listen more deeply, weed more diligently, and forgive more regularly; and in time to count on the regularity of Mahina's cycles. Co-operating takes on new meaning for us. The old habits are still more familiar, so we have old expectations of others and ourselves. Slowly, she, Mahina navigated us back to an Island again, a different one but an island just the same, where we can Kokua and Laulima in practical and newly practiced ways. Definitions change over time, at least some of them do.
Is your life one of competition or cooperation? Are you happy where you are? What journeys and stories do you tell yourself about competition or cooperation? Are those stories your stories alone, or stories told to you?
***To continue with the workshop CLICK HERE to go to MAKUA O'O
When we are awake, energy is amassing. And you know what that can mean! Yes, and it can also mean there are things to talk about. Talkingstory in the dark is a splendid thing. We were doing that last night. Our days are full, each of us doing things, creating lives we love: Pete is out building a chicken coop as I peck away at lei of words that are flowing through my fingertips. We are inspired and happy, overflowing with connections and integration; and more in alignment with who we really are.
One thing that has made itself very plain to me is the value of Kokua and its partner Laulima. Kokua and Laulima are at the core of Island people's way of being. Something in the story Navigator and teacher Nainoa Thompson wrote has linked me to the plain and penetrating truth and value of cooperation. He recalled a childhood memory that has served him through his journey as wayfinder and makua o'o. He remembers:
Nainoa recalls, "My family didn't push competition. The idea of competition didn't make sense to me. Why should I compete with my friends, the guys I liked and played with? The idea of grades didn't make sense. What do grades have to do with learning. Learning should be something very special, very exciting. Rather than learning eagerly, I found that I was spending my energy avoiding bad grades. School should be relevant, exciting, and interesting. I used to ask, 'Why are we reading this book? Why are we reading about dead people in faraway lands?"'
I digested that memory over the past few days, and recall my own experiences of finding a balance between competition and cooperation. I think of my mom's poi bowl, and the dust that collected in and around it. I think about where that poi bowl has traveled since Ma passed to spirit. I remember the recent conversation my son and I had while he was in France teaching a group of French women. "They want to learn hula and lomilomi, but they don't want to go together and wash the dishes." He said. They want the goodies but didn't get the message (yet) of learning to be a community, working together -- cooperation and laulima (many hands together) is where the good stuff must start.
Pete and I talked and talked into the night and drew connections that are made in the dark like seeds do when you cover them with dirt. Germination. The long worthy values of the Native Hawaiian Moon Calendar are based on a community that lived and continues to live on tiny outcroppings of land more distant from continents or land mass than any other on the Earth. Hundreds of thousands of ocean miles surround these tiny land spots -- these islands and from this life people are humbled and honed. Cooperating with ke kai, ka wai, ka 'aina, na makani, and the gods of all who provide, 'competition' on an everyday ke'ia a me kela (in the here and now, here and there) isolates.
I learned this lesson over an over again when we lived in our car parked in parking lots, front yards and beach front parking spaces. I learned what it was like to be viewed as too different, we became off-limits for a time. What we looked like, who we thought we were, and what we believed was available for us to cooperate with, and who could cooperate with us was a'ole ... nothing, no one. The contrasting realities of living from our car allowed us to cooperate with the inner most part of who we are, without physical comfort or physical 'stuff.' There is more awareness and acceptance of my own worth and well-being because of the journey that has brought us here to Whidbey Island.
We learned to begin again, starting with nothing we learned to listen to our na'au(gut). I used the 'Ole Moons to listen more deeply, weed more diligently, and forgive more regularly; and in time to count on the regularity of Mahina's cycles. Co-operating takes on new meaning for us. The old habits are still more familiar, so we have old expectations of others and ourselves. Slowly, she, Mahina navigated us back to an Island again, a different one but an island just the same, where we can Kokua and Laulima in practical and newly practiced ways. Definitions change over time, at least some of them do.
Is your life one of competition or cooperation? Are you happy where you are? What journeys and stories do you tell yourself about competition or cooperation? Are those stories your stories alone, or stories told to you?
***To continue with the workshop CLICK HERE to go to MAKUA O'O
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