Nick Goodness, Storyteller and Haleakala Park Ranger

As we made our way down Haleakala that day that the Hawaiian chanted up the sunset, we stopped at the main visitor's center.

One thing I love about the visitor's center is that they work hard to keep a bed of volcanic rock blooming with silverswords. This is an important part of preserving the more remote places that these endemic, fragile plants grow. It gives visitors a place to view the blooming plants, without tromping and destroying wilder silversword habitat.

Silversword in bloom, in front of the Haleakala National Park Visitor's Center.
Silverswords only grow in the Haleakala crater and have been endangered
due to pigs, goats, and humans.

Inside, we met a park ranger who made our day!

One of our group members started asking him questions about Pele. He spent quite a bit of time telling us, in vivid detail, the story of Pele, the story of Maui, and all sorts of wonderful things about polynesian navigation. But those are stories for a different day...

A trickle of tourists came in and out of the shop, but he kept talking to us.

I was moved by the generosity he showed -- with his time, and energy, and sharing his knowledge of Hawaiian culture. I gave him one of the globes -- one where the land was represented in red, like the glowing molten lava of Pele.

We asked his name on way way out. "Nick Goodness!" We like that name!

The next morning, he happened to be the park ranger at the summit gift shop, when we returned for sunrise. When he saw us, he pulled the little globe out of his pocket and held it up to the sun, and smiled.

Mahalo nui loa, Nick Goodness, for sharing so much with us!

Chanting Up the Sun on Haleakala

For our trip to Maui, we knew we'd be meeting a group of friends there. So, we took a gift for each person.

We found 15 little marbles with the map of the world on them. All different colors and textures, each one was unique.

I took them to 3 sacred places in Austin:

Mount Bonnell at sunset.

The cottonwood tree by my house at sunrise.

And Home Slice Pizza.

(If you've ever met Shauna and had the number 6 at Home Slice, you know what I'm talking about.)

When we arrived on Maui, I realized I could take them to 3 sacred places on Maui before we met all our friends. On Maui, I took them to:

Haleakala at sunrise. The summit is 2 miles high and the sun rises up through the clouds.

The Black Sand Beach and Birthing Canal Cave at sunrise.

And the porch at Joe's Place, watching the full moon rise with the owner of Joe's, Ed.

I took them to a lot of other wonderful places on Maui, too, like Koki Beach at Sunset, and Alelele waterfall.

When I opened up my little bundle of globes at the Haleakala sunset, something wonderful happened.

Katie at Haleakala sunrise. Notice my left pocket -
it's full of little globes. Photo by Virginia Brodie.

Haleakala is very cold and windy. People gather at sunrise (and sometimes sunset) because of the beauty of the sun coming up through the clouds. Tourists are often unprepared for the cold weather, having only packed for tropical breezes. Sometimes, people are wrapped up in beach towels or bedspreads from their hotel rooms.

This particular morning, a Hawaiian guy in shorts and flip flops walked over to my bundle of globes and proceeded to chant the sun up. His chant was so loud that Keith and Mary Ann could hear him from on top of the nearby hill they had climbed. Keith said the man did a version of the Ha Prayer, a Hawaiian prayer for refining a goal or dream, committing your energy to the goal, and then letting go of the goal.

Each time the man sang the refrain of "Ekahi" (pronounced ee-kah-hee) the sun became visibly brighter.

Then, the Hawaiian man left. As I packed up my globes, I looked around to thank him. He was nowhere to be found.

What Have You Done With My Life?

Heartbeat Cave. Click for larger version. Photo by Virginia Brodie

Dedicated to all the teachers I met on Maui.

What have you done with my life?

You've taken it, and given me this:
crashing waves;
the rustle of the hala tree;
a bird flies over head;
I see the stars.

I stay up too late and leave the laundry too long.

After running naked along the shore all night, and praising, I'm looking for my clothes.
The wind blows.
The clouds move on.
The stars are out again.

I'll never forgive you.

Maui Photos

View of the island of Lanai from the
Lahaina restaurant Cheeseburgers in Paradise.

For those who want to see 'em, here are our Maui photos.
http://picasaweb.google.com/katieraver

The only explanation I'll add (beyond the captions) is that:

Week 1: we took photos like normal people

Week 2: our brains melted. We took NO photos!

Week 3: all our photos are of leaves and flowers and rocks!

So, I think that means we had a good time.

If you really want to see photos of "week 2," when we were there with friends, click on the links to Mary Ann and Mikki's photos. The link is in the picasa sidebar.

Aloha!

Hosmer's Grove on Maui

For the first part of our Maui trip, Keith, our friend Mary Ann, and I stayed at Hosmer's Grove.

It's a campground located at 6500 feet, on the slopes of the big crater mountain on Maui, Haleakala. More about Haleakala later.

Hosmer's Grove is in a cloud forest. There are tall trees all around the campsite. Every morning and afternoon, you can watch the clouds come down the slopes of Haleakala. As the clouds reach the campground, it starts to rain. And the grove is much cooler than what most folks think of Maui; it's in the 70's during the day and down to 35 or colder at night.

Around 1900, Ralph Hosmer decided to conduct an experiment in growing lumber trees on Maui. He planted many species, including the pine, cedar, and eucalyptus trees that have survived all this time. The trees are quite beautiful, and the air smells fine. There's a soft carpet of pine needles underfoot. But the trees don't grow quite right -- the soil isn't perfect for them, and they would need a deeper soil line to really thrive. But they survive.

With a very Hawaiian attitude, this area has been turned into part of a National Park. Although folks go to great lengths to eradicate invasive, harmful species (there's a fence at the park to keep goats and pigs out -- they eat eggs of defenseless endemic birds and disrupt plant life), they leave newer species that are not harmful. Indeed, they use such a place as a way to educate.

There's a short trail through the area around Hosmer's Grove. It takes you on a tour of the different types of trees that Hosmer planted.


Photo: From the native shrubland, you can see a cloud moving over Hosmer's Grove.



Then, the trail winds through native shrubland, where 'ohia, native sandwood, and koa grow. These plants are important to limiting erosion and support endemic honeycreeper birds, found nowhere else in the world. There's an outcropping of rock, reminding you that the Hawaiian islands were formed by volcanoes. Everything in this area looks healthy and robust, in balance

I like to stand on the seam between the tall trees and the native shrubland.

Back Yards and Front Yards

After being on the island of Maui for the past 3 weeks, I’m back on the mainland! Over the next few weeks, between NLP updates, look for stories here about my trip. Aloha!

When I was very young, I would go with my Granddad on early morning walks.

He would soundlessly wake up at 4 a.m. every day. He’d get his dog’s leash and his dog ready to go, and we’d be off, walking through his sleeping Albuquerque subdivision.

They had sidewalks. Some people had lawns made entirely of rock. There were evergreens of every sort. There were mimosa trees. Some people had a tiny patch of grass in their front yards.

Granddad knew everyone in the neighborhood. He would point out each house and tell me stories about the owners. He would tell me about the flagpole they installed and how they hit solid rock when they were digging the hole for it. He would tell me about the cats in the neighborhood.

He pointed out one house with a perfectly coiffed lawn and landscaping. There were steps up to the front porch, and the house was set back further than the other houses. They had a friendly St. Bernard and grandkids. They had suffered through diseases and disease treatments. I imagined that people like this must be very tall and stout.

We rounded the corner and were back at his house, ready for breakfast.

Granddad had a great backyard. He had a clothesline – something I’d never seen anywhere else. He had a small flat area, and then a terraced step all the way around the outside of the yard. And there was a shed with all kinds of tools in it.

The fence wasn’t a fence at all. It was a cinderblock wall about 4 feet high. You could easily see into the neighboring yards, with their extensive vegetable gardens and little dogs.

In one back corner, there was a staircase. Granddad was a woodworker, so he probably built it. It fit perfectly between the place where the two walls met.

If you climbed it, you could meet the folks who lived there. They had a beautiful back yard, with lots of plants to hide in and around if I wanted to be by myself. If I wanted company, there was a giant dog, or the kids who lived there would play with me. As long as I knocked on the back door, the tiny grandmother who lived there said I could come in anytime. We would talk while she rolled the dough for a pie and the oven warmed up. Sometimes her husband would come into the kitchen and talk, too.

One morning, I asked Granddad to show me where the tiny grandmother lived. He showed me the familiar house – the one with the perfectly appointed yard and the people with sorrows and a St. Bernard.

This is one of the many experiences I was hoping for in Maui: connecting with old and new friends in ways that helped me “forget” their front yards and the assumptions I had about them. I wanted to see their back yards by interacting directly with them – beyond assumptions – and get on with just being friends and enjoying each other.

While I was there, I met with a group of 15 advanced NLPers at Tom and Bobbi Best’s workshop. My mom was there. My good friends Mary Ann Reynolds and Virginia Brodie were there. There was a group of 4 Austrians there, too, including Daniella. And I met some people with the strongest Aloha I’ve ever seen. I look forward to sharing stories about these people and the beautiful place of Maui soon.

Mana and Maui

When you have a few minutes to really relax into what Maui is like, check out Mary Ann Reynold's post about mana. She made the trip in December last year, and we're in Maui together right now.

http://mareynolds.blogspot.com/2008/02/maui.html

Hana Aloha Festival Lu'au

While we're in Maui, enjoy reading about the first real lu'au we ever attended. The same Aloha Festival may be going on during part of our trip, if we're lucky. But dates often change due to weather and other community matters in Hana.

The Aloha Festivals are local Hawai'ian culture events that take place on all the islands, across different dates. In Hana, where we spent most of our time on Maui, there is a parade with horses, lots of kids and ti leaf floats. There is a lei making contest. And there is a Lu'au.

We happened upon it 5 years ago, and we were the only haoles there, besides the local herb grower. I will never forget watching the progression of hula dancers and the deep gratitude I continue to feel for the experience they gave us.

First, the keikis (children) show what they've been learning. Hula is usually taught by a teacher giving instruction and correction, and students listening carefully. Students do not ask questions. The keikis are incredibly cute, and considered a cherished part of the community.

Groups of students continue coming on stage, dancing, and then sitting near the stage to watch. They watch all the students who are older than them. By the time the older teenagers are performing, you're watching a very technically proficient group of dancers. Both boys and girls dance. They look like classic Hawai'ian beauties (indeed, they are!) and they can hula!

The real masters of the hula, though, are the grandmothers -- big, polynesian women in their 50s, 60s, and beyond, wearing long skirts that amplify every curve. They hold the Aloha for the entire community. When they step on the stage, even little babies are quiet for a moment.

And then, they begin to dance.

Their hula is beyond technical perfection. With every movement, they are opening your heart -- indeed the heart of the entire community. As you watch, completely attentive to their every movement, your heart begins to expand beyond your body, to the entire community, and beyond. This is what the people of Hana are about -- the spirit of Ohana (family) and Aloha.

Through the end of October, I'm twittering my trip to Maui: http://twitter.com/katieraver

See ya back here in November!

Happy Anniversary to Us

Keith and I are celebrating our 6th wedding anniversary today, and in October with an extended trip to Maui. Happy Anniversary, my darling!

For our first anniversary, Keith and I went to Maui.

The first day we were there, we knew something special was happening on this island. We sat on a little patch of green grass at our hotel, basking in the moonlight and watching the ocean. We breathed the deepest we'd ever breathed.

The second day, we drove the Hana Highway, a 50-mile stretch of narrow road that makes some 250 hairpin turns. We smiled a lot that day with our co-journeyers John and Julie. There were waterfalls. And taro fields. And rainbows. At one stop, Keith thought to himself, "huh, I'm a little hungry." A giant avocado immediately fell off a tree and rolled across the street, stopping at his feet. He stooped down, picked it up... and ate it.

Then, we arrived in Hana.

We had been trying to pry information out of our teachers Tom and Bobbi Best about how to prepare for the trip. How much does it rain? Are there mosquitoes? What kind of shoes should we bring? Each time we asked a question, no matter what the question, they would reply with something like, "Well, when you pull into the park, you get out of the car and stroll down to the black sand beach. [Takes a deep breath] The sun warms the rocks, which warm you. You listen to the pulse of the ocean going in.. and out.. in.. and out... The breeze blows across your face. You smile."

Whether we asked about typhoid shots or backpacking gear or anything, they gave us the same answer.

And now we know why.

Hana is so enchanting that when you arrive, you are a different person.

The place, the land itself, insists with infinite gentleness that you relax. All the details of mainland life fade away. The place itself assures you that you are completely loved and that the universe is indeed a good place to be. The land is so alive, it provides anything you'd ever really need. And when you have all the love you could ever want, somehow, the precise material that your raingear is made out of becomes a distant concern.