Calling the Circle
It has always been scary
to step into the circle of firelight,
to show up in the company of strangers,
to ask for entrance or to offer it.
Our hearts race
Will we have the courage to see each other?
Will we have the courage to see the world?
The risks we take in the twenty first century
Are based on risks human beings took
Thousands of years ago.
We are not different from our ancestors,
They are still here, coded inside us.
They are, I believe,
Cheering us on.
**
The sound of the pū reverberated, echoing off of the densely forested hill and single wall homes sloping towards the ocean in the old plantation camp. Rain fell in steady beats as the humble but mighty procession of aloha ‘āina made their way down, down to where the small crowd gathered below, kapa fluttering on the akua loa like white sails or koa‘e tails soaring in the A’eloa wind. At the park’s entrance, No‘eau blew the conch again, and again, and half the crowd began to chant.
Yesterday I had the immense joy of attending the first public ‘Aha Makahiki gathering in Pa‘auilo that has been held in any of our life times, and perhaps more. In their town in Hāmākua Hikina on Hawai‘i Island, Hui Mālama i ke Ala ‘Ūlili (huiMAU) restores their community so it can be a place where people can live and thrive for generations. For more than 10 years now, it’s been beautiful to see their work, commitment, staff, ‘ohana, and community grow. Makahiki is, among many things, a time to reflect on the year past, observing and celebrating the abundance of our communities and our strengths. huiMAU’s celebration was no exception.
**
During the pandemic, Aunty Pua began facilitating cohorts of her Building the Beloved Community curriculum online. She said: “We need to help the kūpuna learn to use technology, so they are not forgotten. So they can participate. Times are changing, and so must we, or we will be left behind.” Aunty partnered with kāko‘o, helpers, to run Zoom cohorts and turned her two-day curriculum into a series of five or more sessions held weekly on Zoom. I was a helper for at least six of these cohorts. Being part of her adaptation from her two-day format to Zoom was remarkable. Her curious and keen nature was eager to connect in new ways, in spite of the isolation all around us.
huiMAU was excited to participate, with eight staff and three board members building beloved community in the summer of 2020. When it came time to share our vision maps at the end of the cohort, Haley shared a beautiful and artful image of her vision.
Yesterday, as our multi-generational assembly stood chanting in the rain, it struck me that we were all living this vision together. Chanting and praying it into being through ceremony and presence, animating it with our voices and our bodies.
Afterwards, the sun came out and dried our wet clothes. More friends and community came from all over the island, playing makahiki games with Aunty Kū and Uncle Nālei, turning gourd-geous ipu grown by Tim, Lucon and huiMAU’s Mālama ʻĀina crew into vessels for water or other sacred items, enjoying fish from local lawai‘a who manned the fry station, and grinding ‘ono mea ‘ai from the land prepared with love by the huiMAU team and community. You would not believe the food—i‘a, fried fish; kūlolo and pepeie‘e, an ‘ulu dessert; ‘uala ‘ele‘ele, sweet potato so dark it looked like a condensed velvet universe of inky purple; tangy pickled daikon; crispy crunchy mai‘a lumpia made with whole bananas. Everything from the land or sea. Friends such as Kohala Center led the ku‘i kalo tent and Lanakila took us on a sassy journey around the moku of Hawai‘i Island through dance and chant, while Kanaka Kava provided smooth ‘awa grown right dea in Hāmākua. This land is abundant, and so are we.
In the world that we are all creating together, for better or for worse, these threads of aloha and collective witnessing offered through a vessel such as an ‘aha makahiki remind us of the continual circles of practice, presence, and piko that make us who we are, and bring value, depth, and purpose to our lives. Mahalo nui huiMAU for reminding us of who we are. Lonoikamakahiki! Maika‘i ka ‘aha.
**
In their Makahiki newsletter, No‘eau penned a touching tribute to Aunty Pua, which includes the poem by William Stafford, The Way it Is. Aunty Pua would often use this poem and the poem Calling the Circle by Christina Baldwin to initiate a cohort, inspiring participants to think about their thread, and understand the potential of what it means to come together in a circle as ceremony. To live into that pōtential. May we all live and love well in 2025, and have the courage to see and be with each other and the land as we are, as we are becoming.
The Way It Is
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
**
As we enter into a new year full of uncertainty, change, and hope, I ask you from our dear kupuna: Who is cheering you on? What is your thread?
Mahalo nui nō,
Dawn