The meta post. One thousand gratuitous kittens living in eternityʻs sunrise

In good meta-social-media style I present some random gratuitous kittens of the sort which surround in this current tropical island incarnation.

A baby Gold Dust gecko so tiny I almost missed it on the taro stem and a budding bamboo shoot.

It is my seventh year of holding the world witness to my nomadic dreaming. According to the statistics component of this software, this is the one thousandth post.

I have no lofty aspirations. I donʻt think I have changed the world at all, not one tiny bit with this blog. Heck, I donʻt even think my family and friends, the original impetus for the recording and sharing,  read it much.

I have very few commentators, and do nothing to promote readership. Again those lovely data pages show that a major wedge of the visitor country of origin pie is Russia. Russia? To my knowledge, I know no one in Russia. Such are the mysteries of tracking software. I know, too, that some of my blood know ways to befuddled said software.

So why do I continue?

The Dreaming Nomad is a primary relationship of sorts in a life of very tenuous and mostly imaginary relationships. It has served to keep me on a path of being a human being. To give me reason to get out of bed, to get out of myself, to get out into the world. To give me focus for these forensic eyes, audience for this interior monologue, an impetus to research and gain a little understanding of the world around me as well as of that inside my own head and heart.

Most importantly it is an excuse to indulge in long hours in coffee shops, listening to music, watching people under the guise of updating the blog

Yes, a lot of the bloggable moments in a life do also get lost. My flickr account is witness to the truth: I could have recorded twice this one thousand posts, had I internet access enough and time.

Though sometimes I leave out important things, I also like the challenge of journalling in the public domain. I like the challenge of being compelled to find a way to phrase things so that those who share a secret common language or shared experience will recognize the reference without that I incur a lawsuit or provoke offense to the innocent or guilty. I briefly toyed with invitation only and it didnʻt work. I didnʻt like holding my friends accountable that way.

I have survived seven years and a thousand posts of public revelation, without accumulating dangerous stalkers (that I know of), or even being fired from a job for my recording, as a dear dear compadre was.

And I do love the looking back aspect: paging randomly through prior years, remembering, forgetting. Nothing like that rear view mirror for distortion effects!

Onward with capturing the tail as it flees!

He who binds to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy;

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity's sun rise. 

William Blake

Neighbourhood services: carpe diem

I am out with the (brand spanking new) weedwacker clearing my back 40 to the boundary line, when another huge piece of Albezia tree falls in the jungle vacant lot alongside.

No wind, nothing. Just crack! boom! bang!

A shout from the neighbouring house behind me (where I just thought they were partying like it was a holiday weekend): "I saw that! You okay?"

I switch off my powertool: "Yes!" I shout back "Happens all the time - junk trees"

"I own a tree service! Hoʻomana Tree Service. Look me up on Facebook"

So I tell him, and the neighbourhood since we are shouting across a bit of a wild ginger patch, that I have written to the owners and the county about the problem.

"Send ʻim a letta. Put my card in there"

I am wondering at what stage I contact the county again. A while back, after my letters to the owner had gone uncollected I registered a complaint with the county. Another couple months and a gentle, softspoken county man comes to inspect the site. Subsequently the county sent a letter giving the owner 30 days to clear the lot of all vegetation which posed an "eminent danger".

Interestingly, I learned that the healthy trees, according to county, do not pose "eminent danger" - experience to the contrary such as the recent incident where a car on a nearby road was crushed by a falling bough from a healthy looking tree notwithstanding  -  but the girdled trees, which are more of a challenge for a tree service to remove, are "eminent danger".

Then and now: empty/full

This time last year I was here watching the sand running out on the baggage packing enterprise.

One year on, I am here.

Where exactly that here is and what it has taken to achieve the precarious moment, is the subject of another post.

Proud and precious flowers: Halau Na Pua ʻO Kona. Dancing to the end of love.

This monthʻs hula kahiko (traditional hula) performance at the kahua hula in Volcanoes National Park was presented by Kumu Hula Bobo Palacat and Hula Halau Na Pua ʻO Kona - the proud flowers of Kona (hula school)

The kahua hula in the park overlooks the crater of Halemaʻumaʻu, the home of creation goddess Tutu Pele. For this reason most performances begin, after their initial oli (chants) of introduction, with chants acknowledging and praising Tutu Pele.

Kumu Hula Bobo is known as a storyteller. I am glad I had brought my comfortable camp chair. Hawaiian stories are not short.  Bobo is very Hawaiian. He can tell a good story. Well.

 I could sit at this manʻs feet forever. Dance me to the end of love. In the garden.

I heard stories and legends of the Hilo and Puna area, of moʻo (dragons), gods, demigods, mortals; love, lust, jealousy and war.

Then I watched dancers tell the stories. Words, rhythm, chant, gesture and dance. And always in the presence of the volcano.

Pele is the most well known of the Hawaiian deities. Why? Because she is ALIVE. Creativity and the passions spark within each one of us. Through the generations.

 Story is how we keep ourselves alive. It is all we have. Tend the garden, tend the garden.

Life at the edge of a volcano.

Celestial navigation: stars to set our course by

The Hawaiian voyaging canoes, the Hōkūleʻa and her sister the Hikianalia, and their crews, are in Hilo Bay today.

They depart the Hawaiian islands for their Mālama Honua (Take Care of the World) worldwide voyage later this week.

Both canoes are named for stars and though navigation is old style non-instrument, by the stars, wind, the ocean currents, sun,  the worldwide journey can be tracked in real time on Google maps. There is a website, Facebook page and Twitter accounts too. Of course. Begin here if you want to know more. 

Up close these vessels are true things of beauty and power: regal, humble, courageous, fragile in turns. Inspiration made tangible. these are true stars to set our course by.

Food truck!

I read somewhere recently that is is oh! so hipster to eat from food trucks.

Well, guess what? I love street food.  Food trucks are most often as close as I can get to street food outside of a Farmerʻs Market

Kapa beating was hungry work. I stopped at the Thai food truck on the outskirts of little Volcano village.

I like the way they are growing some of their herbs and onions right out back of the truck, there on the edge of Ohia and Hapuʻu fern forest.

Making kapa

Kapa is the bark cloth fabric which the ancient Hawaiians made from fibres of certain plants in the Rosales and Malvales families. Kapa was used wherever we would use loomed fabric today: for clothing, drapes for privacy, bedding, coverings, wraps.

Last week I got to make a piece of kapa in the ancient Hawaiian tradition.

Well actually that is not true. Kapa, like Rome, isnʻt made in a day.

I got to beat on my first piece of bark and experience how it expanded.

We were working with the inner fibres from the bark of the Wauke or Paper Mulberry  (Broussonetia papyrifera ). Wauke was one of the plants brought to the archipelago by the first Hawaiians. This first wave of introduced plant species, which were necessary for the life and culture of these ocean canoe voyagers, are known as Canoe Plants.

I learned some unique characteristics of Hawaiian bark cloth, compared to other cultures, and how to beat colour and perfume into the kapa as I am making it.

There are stories of the islands reverberating with the sound of the women pounding kapa. It is a great way to get up a sweat and get rid of aggression.

It is no secret I am a fabric addict. I wonder if Broussonetia papyrifera likes to grow in a tropical rainforest climate zone?

There is a lot more information and background on this companyʻs website.

Question everything: trigger warnings

Maybe I have been in Polynesia too long but this article about scanning ancient Egyptian mummies in my morning newsfeed 1) gave me heebie jeebies and 2) had me wondering at what point does it become okay to mess with peopleʻs ancestors?

Yes I know there is the great god of science and research and that at one time mummies were used to fuel the trains and this is only scanning, but still...

I am sure everyone on social media various would be traumatized and have to seek restitution damages if I posted pictures of my motherʻs death mask.

Yet it is okay to do this invasive stuff on ancient Egyptians and post the pictures all over the internet?

...I wonder and worry my friends....

Blooming elegance: an orchestral piece

There is such elegance to the banana blooming currently on in the backyard unlockup.

Just looking at it, one hears orchestral pieces. Grand musical notes: cellos. Double bass. Violins. Trumpets. Flute. Clarinet. The whole shebang.

Every day there is more unfurling. Revelation of secret soft symphonies. Riffs and trills. Arpeggios.

This is not a rehearsal. It is the real thing. And huge. It dwarfs the little house on the big island.

More. Just more. Encore.

And the shadow of my dragon mother is there. Of course.

"Your life is big. Keep reaching" says the Oprah motto on my throw away coffee cup as I write this. They donʻt know half of it.