Category Archives: Human Nature

The Chaos of Love

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Copyright Boscia Photography 2018.

It’s typical for hula hālau (hula schools) to have an annual hō’ike (show) that allows the haumāna (students) to share what they have learned. Contrary to popular thought, the primary purpose of a hō’ike is not to entertain. Hula has spiritual roots as religious ceremonial rituals. At the hālau I belong to, we are taught that the true purpose of hō’ike is to honor and to give thanks for what we have learned about dance, history, culture, ourselves, and each other.

That being said, our hula hālau puts on a great show, thanks to our kumu hula (hula teacher). Oli (chants) for hula kahiko (ancient hula) connect us to the past and carry tradition forward. Musicians and vocalists provide a wonderful concert for the hula ‘auana (modern hula). The costumes and adornments made from fresh greenery such as ti leaves (la’i) and ferns provide a colorful feast for the eyes. All this combined with beautiful choreography performed by dancers makes for an enjoyable show.

We have to laugh after each hō’ike, though, when we gather for kūkākūkā (discussion) to share our thoughts and memories about the experience – backstage and onstage. For those of you who are stage performers or who volunteer to help backstage, you know what I’m talking about. Human beings aren’t perfect, so their endeavors won’t be. Things don’t always go as planned or as rehearsed. We roll with it and do our best.

Somehow each year, hō’ike is perfect when viewed through the eyes and in the memories of love. Members of a hula hālau share the common goal to learn and preserve the Hawaiian culture. We are taught to live by the core values of aloha (love) and ha’aha’a (humility). When people come together with this common goal and these shared values, love prevails, allowing us to accept ourselves and each other with all our strengths and all our weaknesses. This is what our kumu calls “the chaos of love.”

The best thing about the chaos of love is that it can work in every area of our lives – with our families, with our co-workers, and in our communities. With love, chaos can be embraced as a display of human emotions, honest and free of ill will. With love, mistakes are lessons learned for the future instead of embarrassments. And the icing on the cake is that when you don’t take yourself too seriously, you’ll find it easy to laugh at yourself and at life. So when you’ve done all you can, surrender to the chaos of love. You’ll be fine.

©Living off Island, Writing Wahine, 2018.

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Adult Problems

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Less than two weeks ago, I went back to New York City for my 30th college reunion. I was more interested in reconnecting with my girlfriends than with my college and university, but I was pleasantly surprised by the wave of nostalgia that came over me as I revisited campus and some of my favorite off-campus haunts. This milestone reunion also gave me a chance to look back at a carefree and idealistic version of myself.

One morning as two friends and I were walking the short block from our hotel to the nearest subway station, I glanced to my right and saw a man under a blanket sleeping on the sidewalk up against the side of a building. It was around 11 a.m., the day was well underway, and a food vendor stood at his cart less than twenty feet away from the sleeping man. “How horrible and how nice that no one has checked on this man or shooed him away,” I thought to myself.

On my last subway ride back to my hotel the night before I was scheduled to fly home, a man boarded the train pushing a stroller. He announced that he was visually impaired and was struggling to provide for himself and his son. The toddler in the stroller stared at me, his big round eyes pools of weariness. His little face was dirty, as were his clothes. A tourist sitting across from me handed the man some change and told him, in his Australian accent, to get his son to bed because it was late. The man feebly replied that he was trying to do that.

I’m sure I saw the same types of things when I went to college in New York City back in the 1980’s. Maybe seeing such things made me feel badly for a moment. Now these images won’t leave me. Back then I could hide behind the excuse that I was still a kid and these were adult problems for the adults to worry about. My job was about classes, homework, papers, and exams. It never occurred to me that I would inherit the task of dealing with homelessness, because the grownups would handle it. Thirty-four years after I started college, the issue of homelessness looms over many-most-all big cities in our country; adults have not handled it. There is no shortage of intelligence to harness for solutions, only a shortage of willingness to prioritize solutions and to work together to implement them.

It’s true, school days are to be relished because the grownup world is hard. Adult problems like homelessness, poverty, bigotry, racism, and war seem impossible to fix. I don’t think we’ll fix them until we fix the root of all these problems – adults.

 

©Living off Island, Writing Wahine, 2017.

People Watching and Truth Telling

People Watching

Copyright Living off Island, Writing Wahine 2016.

One evening when I was out of town, I decided to try a Japanese restaurant I found on the Internet. A popular neighborhood eatery in a long and narrow space, the restaurant was divided by short walls made to look like shoji but with stained glass instead of paper. Cozy and tasteful, the decor made me forget the restaurant was in a strip mall of a wealthy suburb, and I decided I liked the place as soon as I sat down.

Although I don’t understand any Russian beyond “da” (yes) and “net” (no), I could place the accents of the voices at the table behind me. The preschooler sitting directly behind me fidgeted periodically, bumping my chair. Whenever this happened, I could hear mom or dad say something. The little girl never responded, but the squirming and bumping would stop.

A group of 20- and 30-somethings sat at the table in front of me. They ate modestly, but ordered multiple bottles of alcohol. Their conversation was quiet, and they intermittently had their faces buried in their smartphones. The woman whose phone blared when she was watching a video didn’t seem embarrassed, and she took her time turning down the volume.

At the table to my right were a woman and a little girl who looked about nine years old. The woman was so lovely that I couldn’t help staring. Probably accustomed to being admired, the woman expertly pretended not to notice. Her skin was clear and free of makeup. I assumed she was older than she looked. Thin and stylishly dressed in ankle pants and a long, loose cardigan, she draped her Goyard grey chevron St. Louis tote bag on the back of her chair as if it, too, were accustomed to being admired.

The woman looked at the menu and said something to the little girl in Japanese. The little girl responded in English, “I don’t care. You can order anything as long as it’s not salmon.” How refreshing – child who wasn’t a picky eater, and at a Japanese restaurant! Their entrees, two different sushi rolls, came out separately a few minutes later.

When they finished their sushi, the woman smiled and again said something to the girl in Japanese. Moments later, a server brought the girl a small dish of ice cream. I heard the girl say, “Do you know how busy I’m gonna be? On Wednesday I have …., and on Thursday I have ….” Spoken like she had the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders. The woman responded in Japanese punctuated with English: “…Wednesday, …Thursday?”

Unlike the woman and girl next to me, the middle-aged couple at the sushi bar never looked at or spoke to one another. The only connection between them was the man’s right arm resting over the back of the woman’s chair. The man’s expression was pleasant but neutral. He left the business of dealing with the servers to the woman, who never smiled and looked stern the whole time. As uncomfortable as it appeared to me, they seemed resigned to looking straight ahead in silence, not bothering to feign interest in their surroundings. They made quick work of their meal and left.

My meal was fine, but nothing memorable. What I wouldn’t forget were the people and settings I had spied: Gentle Parents; Self-absorbed Millennials; Precocious Girl and Doting Aunt; and Distant Spouses. I was already wondering how each of these stories would turn out.

To write about human nature, it’s vital to know about people. To learn about people, it helps to watch them. And in writing about human nature, you uncover things familiar to all of us, the truths that make us all human.

 

©Living off Island, Writing Wahine, 2016.