Day to Day

2022.22.8 - of ceremonies and poetry

I am back in the container of a shaman I greatly admire with an 8 week program, and am grateful for the timing of this. My mother passed, and with her passing, fresh information surfaced for tending. In this moment, I am tending transgenerational wounds, and the unwantedness that goes beyond the peripheraries of oneʻs own personal skin, bones, heart, and taps into a broader texture.

I am observing, that things will manifest first in visual art, and then the awareness of what is a part of the story, and then the courage to look at the mental pictures, or drop into the inner knowing of what it is, and from that, the pain, to be felt, and processed. Writing becomes a part of the healing process. It is the work of what is called "the wounded healer"

The flower doesnʻt belong here or there

she floats above the fray

witnessing bickering and bantering

lee lines of energy gone awry

covering her petals with the winds of change

her fragile stalk leans towards the sun for comfort

her face shining bright

glistening with the remaining dew of morning

her roots reach into the earth

tender tendrils

seeking home

where are you home?

If the pua doesnʻt belong here or there?

the roots reach and reach and reach

touching the heart of ka honua makuahine

Her gift of fragrance floats through the mists

an offering for lani makuakāne a me ka poʻe hōkū

A transplant from once island homes to a bigger island

there is solace here

But the pua

longs for home

the smaller islands

and beyond that

the home within the stars

where the ancestors do the things that ancestors do

did it all begin with

that unwanting in the womb

a protective act

of a loving mother

if this pua had choice

she would have chosen an early recycling

and a planting in the homelands

but fickle fate decided otherwise

this pua remained

escaping the scrapings

and from this remaining

many seeds of joy will certainly

be formed

as small blessings of love, light, and aloha

from this catalyst of tending

transgenerational wounds

that is the artistʻs wish for this pua

and all

misplaced

and weeping

2021.25.10 - A Sacred Life

What is a sacred life the sprite asks the cosmos

Teach me body

How to live a sacred life

It comes with the rains of the wet season

Ritual of joy and gratitude

Seeing the image in the mindʻs eye

Of showering in the rain

and so, the sprite showers

Tossing dried worms to the birds seeking shelter in the bushes

Plucking rain drenched plumeria in the misty rain and gifting it through the crack in the patio door to her beloved, smiling.

Jumping in puddles and laughing with joy holding her full grown breast with her palms

Welcome rain, I am so grateful for your gifts, thank you ethers

The rain begins to fall harder and the drenching comes along with the wild winds and there she stands

Arms upraised, her face lifted to the stormy sky, the heavens weeping on her naked body

She sits the sprite does, in a wooden rocker, in stillness, eyes closed, feeling the rain, smiling

At one with the wetness and the beginning of the wet season, here at last, bringing the fire season to a close

This is a sacred life

Celebrate its sacredness