Glass of Milk

Aloha mai kākou,

I hope all is well with you. I apologize if you have been reading this regularly, because two weeks ago I didn’t post, and it’s been until now that I’m back. However, I’ve been thinking of this blog quite a bit. I just didn’t make the time to sit and write! I thought maybe folks weren’t reading any more, and they wouldn’t notice…but I found out that is not true! Mahalo to Kapono for our magical reconnection [far away from home] and for urging me to continue on. So here I write at midnight.

I’ve been traveling for work and fun last week and this week. I spent some amazing time in Chicago for an inspiring conference and also with some wonderful friends who teach me about commitment, community, and what it means to be from somewhere, and fight for your place and your people–to shift the horizon and sail plan for yourself and others. It takes a special kind of intelligence, this. I’m so grateful, and so inspired by them too. Chicago was amazing all around, despite the biting cold.

In our long-term Building the Beloved Community cohort, we have decided to start Aunty Pua’s curriculum over again. We are going to begin tomorrow with some of the principles and the practices, like Guts on the Table; we are going over them using “maps of the day” from previous cohort sessions with Aunty. It feels like she is with us, reading her prompts and the poems she would send. I’m excited for us to remake our circle again, together, to go through the familiar rituals of the Castor Oil principle and others, to listen and hear after several years the stories of our names, our communities, and our gifts. Who have we become in the interim? How have our stories changed, evolved?

In preparation for this writing, I found some quotes from Aunty Pua in my digital vault on belonging. Belonging is vital, it is complex. In the Chicago neighborhood I visited just a few days ago, belonging somewhere that is sometimes very unsafe can be a paradox in terms. What does it mean to belong somewhere like that? And how much more do you value and treasure your sense of belonging when it is hard won, when it can be taken away from you by various means so seemingly easily? I’m grateful for the young folks who taught me the ways that they create spaces of safety, connection, and belonging. They remind me never to take this for granted, back home, or anywhere.

I made a new fried Luis, who I had met on FaceTime before, and we met in person for the first time. He had such energy and aloha for his neighborhood, and a deep sense of knowing and being known. As a kupa ‘āina, a nohopapa, he understands the hidden currents of his urban place and people. This deep knowledge has kept him safe throughout his life. He took me to his family’s bakery, and in the ancient case there were rows of beautiful pastries and giant cookies. It smelled incredible. I got to try, and his mom gave me a giant glass of milk so cool and cold and refreshing, more than I could possibly drink.

Ponderings that were first asked of a BTBC cohort on June 6, 2024:

“When did you first know that you belonged, and how did you know that you did?  
…And do you offer that service to others, helping others to belong?  
Where do you belong, and how do you know?”
Pilina, [a sense of connection] has become so important. Connections are key to wellbeing.
You know you belong when you know you don’t.”

Aunty Pua’s response:

We’re a hive. We are all related, we are all equal but different, but we come together and make this buzz together. We all have our own vibrations separate from each other. But when we come together, all the things that are mysterious about us, we are always trying to make them fit. Not to be in competition, but to see with clarity who the other person is. The idea of othering and belonging, so often we are involved in structures where they have to other you, make you less than, they dub you needy instead of being able to see where the power in you lies, and to direct all of their efforts to helping you experience the beauty and strength of where your power lies. Instead, especially in government programs, we focus on needs, failures, the stuff that isn’t working. What is interesting about this group is that we talk about the things that are working, that build momentum in us. I think what is interesting for me in these past couple of weeks is really not being afraid of looking frail…

I get to hear where you are wondering and wandering, and it gives me spiritual resilience.  We all have histories with each other, individually and as a group.  Every time we come together, we celebrate both.

…Part of trauma is not belonging.  And that trauma can last a lifetime.

Did you notice that she said that structures “have to” other you? It’s like they don’t even have a choice sometimes. Their nature and being as a system can’t see who we are, and how we are. They can’t recognize our power, it’s too much. I think that deep knowing is hard. It can destroy you, one way or another. Structures and systems have certainly destroyed a lot in our communities over time, which we internalize, suffer through, or fight against. Since systems and structures are self-perpetuating, I wonder if they really want to get to know us at all. Could they continue to exist as such if the really knew, understood kākou? I’ve been pondering on this lately, the nature of society and true change. Perhaps in the remaking and rebuilding of our relationships to each other, to the land, and to our places and practices, new, more humane and equitable structures can emerge. I think this is the crux of the work I do, and I learned a lot about this from Aunty Pua.

I wonder…

In a seemingly broken world, what is working for you? Where do you belong, who’s in your hive? Which connections feed you, where does your power lie? Where is your momentum, building, building? Where do you feel frail, where could you use more support? [Is there anything I can do?}

Aloha nui to you all from far away. Hope you are eating and loving well, moving your body the ways you need in order to feel good, and having moments of kismet synergy, hō‘ailona, good signs for the journey we are on.

Mahalo nunui,

Dawn

Collage of the wall from 5 Rabanitos restaurant in Chicago and art at the Art Institute of Chicago. Photos takes last week.
Mahalo David and the TA98 crew for taking such excellent care of me last week.