Two years ago when snow had come to this island I was driving my car, the Subaru "Scout." In a history not long past this car was both my source of transporting me and my husband from one place to another and it was also our home. Without the Subaru we would be counted among the 'homeless' and even then, "Scout" did not count as home in the dominant culture. Particularly after the sun sunk into the ocean and the time of po or night came, car-dwellers become illegals. We lived that experience for months while we drove, parked, slept and redefined our selves at a time when most ought to be planning for retirement in the dominant culture. In many ways, this was another Time of Hiding for me. The dominant culture included chemicals, and environments including houses that were unsafe for a pair of no longer youthful beings who were really in the early stages of Mythic Times. Trying to explain ourselves was nearly impossible, so after a time we stopped trying to explain. My anchor of expression --writing--was possible as I used dozens of coffee shop napkins to describe the translucent reality of a sensitive who had absorbed a collective body burden too heavy to carry. I died during those Times of Hiding and that is where the gates of Mythic Times opened to me.
Two years ago though, the process of redefinition had moved forward. We were newly anchored in the woods of the Pacific Northwest and to continue this tale, I was driving the Subaru in the snow and the ice. No longer able to live on my islands of birth, we had voyaged across the ocean. Voyaging is something essential in my knowing genes. Not yet ma'a to the protocol of this place where ice commands a different set of rules I turned a corner doing too fast, and stepped on the brake when I shouldn't have. "Scout" could not maintain an independent route on the asphalt and within seconds of braking, the car climbed the dividing bump cover partially with snow and I was no longer in control. A truck in the other lane stopped us. Damage happened! No one was hurt physically. We had(and continue to pay for) auto insurance and both vehicles were repaired. We could financially afford the repairs. For someone like myself who is sensitive to chemicals (including paints) the repair of "Scout" meant waiting for more than two months before I was able to be with the newly painted and repaired Subaru. Winter temperatures don't readily bake-out the volatile organic compounds found in paint. I would need to patiently readjust to reality.
The Waiting Times have always been difficult for me. It started with birth. Born premature, my need to get somewhere sooner than later has been an ongoing challenge. Funny how the lessons seem custom-made for the person. The two months of The Waiting Times in the not too long ago limited my access to movement away, or to new places. Instead, my present and my place was narrowed not for the first time either. But what did come from this Waiting Time was the gift of applied resilience and knowing what was important. Two years ago I made my gift of writing the important thing to build a new definition upon. Gone was the easy access to some where else. Here was the internet access available because we carry our marine quality antennae to borrow signals. Limited in one channel, I turned to story once again and made a way to connect with a few others who write. An on-line writers group began and for two years it was my source of regular inspiration and commitment to writing. Once a week for those two years two to five people joined me on-line prompted by short phrases or words meant to tickle writing from the fingers onto the virtual page. Each of the writers including myself have created a substantial body of work as a result of this applied practice of showing up weekly.
Now, we are in hiatus. It was time to focus differently, and it was my choice to stop this group. I have one short story (a fairy tale), a novel (a mythic memoir) and another novel in the works that need my attention. This place Red Hibiscus and Dragon Wings is a new writing baby that needs my attention. I created this website/blog to expand the potential for story and mythic expressions, and the idea for teaching a workshop in April is in the wind. My life as a sensitive sixty-something challenges me to balance and routinely refine my kuleana (my responsibility). No longer able, or maybe, not yet able, to voyage back to Hawai'i where my love of place is rooted, I am blessed with the capacity to live with a high tolerance for many meanings to one experience. I think that defines mythic very aptly. So, I grow my life from here and open to the wisdom available because I search for it.
More and more of my writing is mythic without apology and is inspired by my ancient oceanic knowing. The video and the title for this post focus on a wahine kalae pohaku (a woman who carves stone). Dr. Manulani Aluli Meyers is inspiring and informing as many as will listen to her. In my search to find ways to continue my story and my telling I leave with Manu's interview to stimulate the energy in you to open the gate to the mythic times. Manu states that "these are mythic times" as she describes her vision for Hawaii's future. I love that vision and commit to it with this mana'o. Mahalo nui loa a pau, Manu.
Two years ago though, the process of redefinition had moved forward. We were newly anchored in the woods of the Pacific Northwest and to continue this tale, I was driving the Subaru in the snow and the ice. No longer able to live on my islands of birth, we had voyaged across the ocean. Voyaging is something essential in my knowing genes. Not yet ma'a to the protocol of this place where ice commands a different set of rules I turned a corner doing too fast, and stepped on the brake when I shouldn't have. "Scout" could not maintain an independent route on the asphalt and within seconds of braking, the car climbed the dividing bump cover partially with snow and I was no longer in control. A truck in the other lane stopped us. Damage happened! No one was hurt physically. We had(and continue to pay for) auto insurance and both vehicles were repaired. We could financially afford the repairs. For someone like myself who is sensitive to chemicals (including paints) the repair of "Scout" meant waiting for more than two months before I was able to be with the newly painted and repaired Subaru. Winter temperatures don't readily bake-out the volatile organic compounds found in paint. I would need to patiently readjust to reality.
The Waiting Times have always been difficult for me. It started with birth. Born premature, my need to get somewhere sooner than later has been an ongoing challenge. Funny how the lessons seem custom-made for the person. The two months of The Waiting Times in the not too long ago limited my access to movement away, or to new places. Instead, my present and my place was narrowed not for the first time either. But what did come from this Waiting Time was the gift of applied resilience and knowing what was important. Two years ago I made my gift of writing the important thing to build a new definition upon. Gone was the easy access to some where else. Here was the internet access available because we carry our marine quality antennae to borrow signals. Limited in one channel, I turned to story once again and made a way to connect with a few others who write. An on-line writers group began and for two years it was my source of regular inspiration and commitment to writing. Once a week for those two years two to five people joined me on-line prompted by short phrases or words meant to tickle writing from the fingers onto the virtual page. Each of the writers including myself have created a substantial body of work as a result of this applied practice of showing up weekly.
Now, we are in hiatus. It was time to focus differently, and it was my choice to stop this group. I have one short story (a fairy tale), a novel (a mythic memoir) and another novel in the works that need my attention. This place Red Hibiscus and Dragon Wings is a new writing baby that needs my attention. I created this website/blog to expand the potential for story and mythic expressions, and the idea for teaching a workshop in April is in the wind. My life as a sensitive sixty-something challenges me to balance and routinely refine my kuleana (my responsibility). No longer able, or maybe, not yet able, to voyage back to Hawai'i where my love of place is rooted, I am blessed with the capacity to live with a high tolerance for many meanings to one experience. I think that defines mythic very aptly. So, I grow my life from here and open to the wisdom available because I search for it.
More and more of my writing is mythic without apology and is inspired by my ancient oceanic knowing. The video and the title for this post focus on a wahine kalae pohaku (a woman who carves stone). Dr. Manulani Aluli Meyers is inspiring and informing as many as will listen to her. In my search to find ways to continue my story and my telling I leave with Manu's interview to stimulate the energy in you to open the gate to the mythic times. Manu states that "these are mythic times" as she describes her vision for Hawaii's future. I love that vision and commit to it with this mana'o. Mahalo nui loa a pau, Manu.
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