Aloha mai kākou,
“E ka gentle breeze e waft mai nei…”
I hope you had a wonderful weekend. I’m thinking today of the opening line of a mele that once captured Aunty Pua’s ear and na‘au: “E ka gentle breeze e waft mai nei…” from the song Ku‘u Pua i Paoakalani. This beautiful song was composed by our Queen Lili‘uokalani. There are many versions of it sung by folks like George Helm and Eddie Kamae. The Hawaiian music website Huapala says:
“Paoakalani (Royal Perfume), [was] the Waikīkī estate where the Queen spent most of her time composing and translating Hawaiian legends into English. [It] was inherited by Lydia Kamakaʻeha from her grandfather ʻAikanaka, along with Keʻalohilani (Royal Brightness). April 11, 1877, the day after Leleiohoku, her brother died, she was proclaimed heir apparent to the throne and changed her name to Liliʻuokalani at the request of her brother, King Kalākaua. This song was composed by the Queen during her 8-month imprisonment in ʻIolani Palace. Evelyn Townsend Wilson was voluntarily imprisoned with the Queen. Her son, John would send flowers wrapped in newspaper from Uluhaimalama, the Queen’s garden in Pauoa Valley. She was able to keep abreast of the news of her kingdom this way…”
There’s so much to share about this song and its kaona and context, but I’ll focus on Aunty’s mana‘o. Aunty Pua loved our Queen and often was in conversation with her words, her music, her legacy, her spirit. Of this beautifully crafted song, she marveled at Lili‘u’s ability to turn a phrase and mix Hawaiian and English words with such fluidity and impact. One can imagine the poignancy and emotion of a deeply fond remembrance of a beloved place, Paolakalani and her people, her flowers, while imprisoned in her own palace and on the brink of an uncertain future. “Lili‘uokalani, on the cusp of modernity, old and new,” Aunty Pua pondered, marveling at the seamless way our Queen composed in two languages. She then extended her wonder beyond the words of this song in particular to the complexities of Hawai‘i in 1895 and the Queen’s position in an often hostile and ever-transforming world. Such tenderness, vulnerability, and strength. From these few words, Aunty asked us to consider our Queen and write something of our own. She pondered some more:
“When were you brave in the face of something enormous, and dove into the wave?”
And we each wrote and shared a poem about it. It was a deep session as we all shared: stories of how we metaphorically held our breath, clutched our boards and ducked low, enduring, how we came out on the other side of the wave, or hoped to soon. Tonight as I was remembering this circle, I found a poet’s name, a pair of stray words in my session notes. Gregory Orr is a lyric poet who has experienced seminal tragedies in his life. His journey is resonant amidst a chaotic world that sometimes (and especially lately) seems senseless. Of poetry, he said:
“I believe in poetry as a way of surviving the emotional chaos, spiritual confusions, and traumatic events that come with being alive.”
I know what it feels like to need to move your pen on paper or fingers on a keyboard because the only way you can process what you’ve been through or witnessed is by writing it out. For me it’s like an urge, potent and insistent, one that sustained me as a teenager with anxiety and later while doing community development work abroad. Like Aunty Pua and our Queen, many of us have a practice of writing, processing and memorializing our experiences. What is your “poetry” practice? It doesn’t have to be writing. We go into our garden, we go running, we tend butterflies, we spend time with beloveds, we dissolve into music that heals us. There are so many ways to bolster our spirits for the brave journey of being alive.
What can we learn and be inspired by in the journeys of our beloved heroes, queens, poets, aunties? How can we inspire ourselves, and each other? What waves are you diving into lately, what’s your lifeline?
Here’s a poem that was written in response to the poetry prompt by one of our Maui manawāhine cohort members. In the context of their lives and beautifully human journeys, Aunty’s reflections on our Queen came through.
I Am the Hero
I am the hero of my own story
even when I’m tired and
feel like it’s boring.
I am the hero,
even when it seems like
no one else wants to read
or engage in it.
No matter what,
I’ve still got me.I am the hero of my own story,
it’s mine to work out,
mine to unravel,
to learn to love.I am the hero,
and the cast is wide and diverse,
beautiful like me,
and broken like me, too.I am the hero of my own story,
even when I feel like
a background character,
even when I try to give it away,
and when I want to run.I am the hero,
current manifestation
of genealogies known and unknown
coming true and transforming.So I embrace the moment,
this circle,
this poem,
this hero,
me.
I hope that you’re the hero of your own story this week, coming true and transforming! Sending you a hug and a metaphorical bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper as we embrace the week.
Mahalo,
Dawn
Resources:
– There are many versions of the song Ku‘u Pua o Paoakalani to be found, but I actually like this YouTube recording from the Royal Hawaiian Band made at the Palace.
– Link to poet Gregory Orr’s On Being interview (Just a warning, the interview contains sensitive topics related to the poet’s childhood trauma.)
Photo taken 5/10/19 during a visit with Aunty and the founder of the Maui cohort.