Michelangelo paints sunset above the distant mountains – his work already fading on the peaceful waters below
Changing voices fill the background with soft giggles and whispered secrets
A lamppost stands guard against the dark forces. Stillness surrounds. Night has come to claim her time.
Vibrant chords pour forth illuminating hopes and dreams and fears
Soulful eyes sing along filled with the harmonies of love
A private symphony shared. A moment frozen in time.
Learning that these are the only days. This is the only life.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Kepeneke
Once upon a time on a small Hawaiian Island there lived a young boy named Kepeneke. He lived in a house surrounded by coconut trees on the edge of the town – halfway between the ocean and forest. It was a quiet place to live and his bedroom was warmed by the rising sun in the morning and cooled by the tropical breezes in the afternoon. At night, Kepeneke could stare out at the stars and the moon smiled at him when it was time for bed.
Kepeneke’s parents lived with him along with his brother, Ikilia. His father worked for the Luau, where the many tourists would come that vacationed on the island. His mother worked as the plantation manager where the most delicious pineapples and mangos were grown. Each was very happy with what they did.
Kepeneke was soon to reach the age of Malehala – or the time of the Decision. It was at Malehala that the men in Hawaii would decide what their future would bring. Some would decide to farm the fields and grow the largest pineapple and the juiciest papayas with which to feed their people. Others would become hunters, combing the forests and lava hills for small game and possibly a wild boar if the Gods were generous. Some would not work – spending their days surfing the pristine shores and powerful waves that appeared throughout the day. Most fortunate of all were those that would be gifted with a position of importance in the Kings Court.
Kepeneke often dreamed of working for the king – but he could not quite figure out how to do this. It required the very best grades, exceptional ability on the athletic fields – dedication to the ways of the ancient Hawaiians. Kepeneke knew he could do these things – but there were so many other distractions it was sometimes hard to be so focused.
Most days Kepeneke would go to school and learn of the great warriors and traditions of Hawaii’s past. It was during these times that he thought of the ancient times – and how he would have fit into. Would he have been a great warrior? Would he have been the wise elder that others sought advise from? He was sure that his future held greatness but it was so hard to know for sure when each day held a series of chores and trials to be endured.
On the days where there was no school, Kepeneke would search for Puka shells along the white sand beaches that stretched around the Island. It was during these times that he would sometimes encounter the surfers or the hunters as they went about their business. They would all try to talk him into doing what they did. The surfers would brag about how daring they were facing the giant waves and the hunters would tell him how brave they were to hunt for the giant boar that roamed the islands. None of these things much appealed to Kepeneke and he would often hear laughter as he continued down the beach searching for his puka shells.
On the evening of the full moon. Kepeneke was up in his room, practicing his writing and watching the moon beams play over the silvery waves as they washed up over the shore. Something caught his attention and he stared out over the horizon. Ever so faint, he thought he could make out a large canoe as it rode across the incoming waves. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. What would a canoe be doing out at night? It was dangerous enough to be out during the day when you could see each reef and wave but at night (even with a full moon) was almost asking for a disaster.
As Kepeneke looked out over the horizon, his mind slowly drifted away and he once again thought about the Malehala. He thought of all the things he already had to do – caring for his younger brother Ikilia, tending to the chickens that the family kept in the yard, working the small garden that supplied them with fresh vegetables
Kepeneke drifted back from his day dream and looked out the window again. The canoe was clearly visible now. It floated low in the ocean as if filled with water and he could not make out any shapes. Why he wondered, would not the paddlers be visible? He continued to watch and ponder this question as he started to realize the canoe was drifting toward Waimea ledge. It was then that he heard the sound. It was so faint at first – like the buzz the hummingbird makes as it flies by on a still afternoon. He listened harder. The sound become more intense. Not really a hummingbird – more like a small cat that was missing its mother. Surely he thought there could not be a cat adrift in a canoe.
The trade winds carried the sound over the tree tops – carried by the spirits of the Gods and suddenly a chill ran down Kepenele back. The sound was of a baby child. The sound his brother used to make late at night when he was scared and lonely – that sound that woke him up so many nights. He could almost hear his mother singing softly to Ikilia as she often did to help quiet him down and he wondered if she did the same when he was a baby.
He looked again. The canoe was dangerously close to the Waimea ledge. It would be just minutes before it would be crushed between the coral and the waves. He frantically looked up and down the beach. All the adults near him were working the Luau. They would never make it in time even if he could reach them. His heart beat faster, and his stomach tightened as he watched.
As his eyes stared at the canoe, he suddenly saw a glimmer of color reflected by the moonlight. The canoe was painted in the most brilliant and deepest blue that was only used by the Royal family. He suddenly knew it was up to him – but could he do it? He had to make the beach, swim in the dark to the canoe – and even if it made it in time, would he have enough strength to steer a full sized outrigger through danger and land it on the beach? The odds were not good, but this was the King’s canoe and it demanded his attention.
He thrust his torch into the hot embers of the hookelau and once lit – took off at a full run for the beach. His lungs screamed for him to stop and his heart beat as if a wild boar was chasing him – but he continued at full speed. He arrived just in time to see the canoe drift into the outer surf of Waimea and knew he had only minutes left. He dove in and the crashing waves tried to push him back to shore. His strong arms cut through the surf and propelled him out past the breakers. He was breathing hard now, his muscles aching with the pain but he continued on. Suddenly he looked up and realized the canoe was directly in front oh him and his right leg grazed across a rock on Waimea ledge cutting open the skin. Blood started to pour out and Kepeneke knew it would only be a minute before the sharks found him. The canoe was bouncing on the waves as he struggled to pull himself in. Every part of his body hurt as he tried again and again to pull himself in. Down he would go under the water – then break the surface gasping for air and try to get in before he went under again. Suddenly he felt a small rock under his foot and using it for leverage he was able to almost jump into the outrigger.
He landed with a splash and thrashed about for a paddle when his hand found a small basket floating in the canoe. In the glow of the moon light he could see a small child inside – wrapped in clothes dyed the most brilliant and deepest blue. His mind raced – was it possible this was the royal heir to the throne of all of the Hawaiian Island – and if so – how did he end up here? Suddenly the outrigger lurched and Kepeneke was thrown against the side with tremendous force. The shock took his breath away and he realized they had just hit the outer edge of the reef. It would only be a minute before the waves swamped them for good and then battered them against the rocks.
Perhaps then the moon shone brighter – or perhaps the Gods looked upon him with favor – for suddenly he found a paddle and swinging around quickly started to thrust into the ocean with all his strength. Each stroke was met with another wave that threatened to push them back against the rocks – but inch by inch he worked himself and the baby out toward safety.
100 yards – then 50 yards. He could see the beach clearly now. If he could keep the heavily swamped canoe straight for just another minute he would be safe. Suddenly he felt the sand underneath and finally breathed his first full breath. He grabbed the basket with the child inside and leapt out and dashed across the surf finally collapsing by a coconut tree to catch his breath. He looked out across the bay and could see the shark fins circling Waimea in the moonlight. He shivered at the thought and looked down at his leg. The blood was still flowing through the gash but strangely it did not hurt. He took off his shirt and tied it around the wound and then scooping up the basket continued on to his house.
The lights from the windows cast a glow across the driveway as he limped up. He could see his father through the glass – and his mother. They seemed angry and he was sure they were going to be really mad when he got in. The basket was heavy now – and the blood on his leg way sticky and mixed with dirt and sweat. Just a bit further. He kept telling himself to go just 10 more feet and then when he got there – he would convince himself to go another 10. And then – like a dream it was over. His front door – hobbling over the last step – his father catching him – his mother taking the baby. A blur of bandages, hot tea and then bed.
He could hear whispers as he came to. He remembered something vaguely about his dreams but it all seemed so unreal. He went to roll over and the pain shot through his leg. It wasn’t a dream after all… he had rescued a baby from a certain death. He rolled slowly and lifted his leg out of bed. It throbbed as he placed his foot on the floor and tried to stand. The whispers were clearer now – he could make out a half dozen or so adults talking downstairs. So early he thought for company. He surveyed his leg – bandages soaked in blood and thought it best to tell his mother right away. He braced himself for each step as he went down - biting down hard to not make a sound from the pain. He stepped into the kitchen slowly and was greeted by absolute silence as he entered. He looked up and saw 4 men dressed in the deepest blue robes – one wearing a crown of fresh Plumeria. Kepeneke stopped and stared. Only King Kamahamaha wore such a headdress. He suddenly realized he was in the presence of his royal highness and tried to bow. His leg gave out and he tumbled to the ground in a most undignified manner. Trying to recover – he suddenly saw a hand extended to help him. As he looked up – he stared into the bright eyes of the King. Kepeneke could not believe what was happening – the King himself extended his hand – and he helped Kepeneke up onto his feet, and then, without warning, the king knelt before Kepeneke and taking his hand in his – bowed before him.
The King told Kepeneke the story of his youngest son. A child in the village had wanted him to know the fun of the outrigger and so had put him in – never expecting it would drift out to sea. The King has searched frantically all day for his child and feared he had died. Never had he been so grateful in all his life.
The King told Kepeneke he could have any wish he desired. Anything in his kingdom would be his for the asking. Kepeneke thought long and hard. What did he really want? A job in the royal court? A life of leisure never having to work?
Kepeneke thought of the Malehala – he thought of the surfers and the hunters. He thought of his friends and teachers. He looked into the kings eyes and suddenly his voice grew strong and firm. What he wanted he explained – was just to be himself. He would make his own way in life. And while he was not yet sure what that would be – he knew now that he truly could be anything he wanted. The king smiled, and with a nod to Kepeneke’s parents, turned and disappeared out the front door.
Kepeneke tried not to moan as he worked his crutches up the stairs of his school. He was late – but this time he had a good excuse. Surely there would be no detention after what he had done last night. But then he thought no one would believe him. The story he had to admit was pretty far fetched. Rescuing the heir to the royal throne? Not likely anyone would believe that. Still, he knew the truth and that would be enough. As he entered his class the voices suddenly stopped. He looked around as his classmates stared at him. He turned toward his desk and then he suddenly saw it. A fresh crown of plumeria lay atop a sash of the most brilliant and deepest blue. Across the front in gold letters was written Kepeneke Kine Kuka – Kepeneke, the Kings Guardian.
Kepeneke’s parents lived with him along with his brother, Ikilia. His father worked for the Luau, where the many tourists would come that vacationed on the island. His mother worked as the plantation manager where the most delicious pineapples and mangos were grown. Each was very happy with what they did.
Kepeneke was soon to reach the age of Malehala – or the time of the Decision. It was at Malehala that the men in Hawaii would decide what their future would bring. Some would decide to farm the fields and grow the largest pineapple and the juiciest papayas with which to feed their people. Others would become hunters, combing the forests and lava hills for small game and possibly a wild boar if the Gods were generous. Some would not work – spending their days surfing the pristine shores and powerful waves that appeared throughout the day. Most fortunate of all were those that would be gifted with a position of importance in the Kings Court.
Kepeneke often dreamed of working for the king – but he could not quite figure out how to do this. It required the very best grades, exceptional ability on the athletic fields – dedication to the ways of the ancient Hawaiians. Kepeneke knew he could do these things – but there were so many other distractions it was sometimes hard to be so focused.
Most days Kepeneke would go to school and learn of the great warriors and traditions of Hawaii’s past. It was during these times that he thought of the ancient times – and how he would have fit into. Would he have been a great warrior? Would he have been the wise elder that others sought advise from? He was sure that his future held greatness but it was so hard to know for sure when each day held a series of chores and trials to be endured.
On the days where there was no school, Kepeneke would search for Puka shells along the white sand beaches that stretched around the Island. It was during these times that he would sometimes encounter the surfers or the hunters as they went about their business. They would all try to talk him into doing what they did. The surfers would brag about how daring they were facing the giant waves and the hunters would tell him how brave they were to hunt for the giant boar that roamed the islands. None of these things much appealed to Kepeneke and he would often hear laughter as he continued down the beach searching for his puka shells.
On the evening of the full moon. Kepeneke was up in his room, practicing his writing and watching the moon beams play over the silvery waves as they washed up over the shore. Something caught his attention and he stared out over the horizon. Ever so faint, he thought he could make out a large canoe as it rode across the incoming waves. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. What would a canoe be doing out at night? It was dangerous enough to be out during the day when you could see each reef and wave but at night (even with a full moon) was almost asking for a disaster.
As Kepeneke looked out over the horizon, his mind slowly drifted away and he once again thought about the Malehala. He thought of all the things he already had to do – caring for his younger brother Ikilia, tending to the chickens that the family kept in the yard, working the small garden that supplied them with fresh vegetables
Kepeneke drifted back from his day dream and looked out the window again. The canoe was clearly visible now. It floated low in the ocean as if filled with water and he could not make out any shapes. Why he wondered, would not the paddlers be visible? He continued to watch and ponder this question as he started to realize the canoe was drifting toward Waimea ledge. It was then that he heard the sound. It was so faint at first – like the buzz the hummingbird makes as it flies by on a still afternoon. He listened harder. The sound become more intense. Not really a hummingbird – more like a small cat that was missing its mother. Surely he thought there could not be a cat adrift in a canoe.
The trade winds carried the sound over the tree tops – carried by the spirits of the Gods and suddenly a chill ran down Kepenele back. The sound was of a baby child. The sound his brother used to make late at night when he was scared and lonely – that sound that woke him up so many nights. He could almost hear his mother singing softly to Ikilia as she often did to help quiet him down and he wondered if she did the same when he was a baby.
He looked again. The canoe was dangerously close to the Waimea ledge. It would be just minutes before it would be crushed between the coral and the waves. He frantically looked up and down the beach. All the adults near him were working the Luau. They would never make it in time even if he could reach them. His heart beat faster, and his stomach tightened as he watched.
As his eyes stared at the canoe, he suddenly saw a glimmer of color reflected by the moonlight. The canoe was painted in the most brilliant and deepest blue that was only used by the Royal family. He suddenly knew it was up to him – but could he do it? He had to make the beach, swim in the dark to the canoe – and even if it made it in time, would he have enough strength to steer a full sized outrigger through danger and land it on the beach? The odds were not good, but this was the King’s canoe and it demanded his attention.
He thrust his torch into the hot embers of the hookelau and once lit – took off at a full run for the beach. His lungs screamed for him to stop and his heart beat as if a wild boar was chasing him – but he continued at full speed. He arrived just in time to see the canoe drift into the outer surf of Waimea and knew he had only minutes left. He dove in and the crashing waves tried to push him back to shore. His strong arms cut through the surf and propelled him out past the breakers. He was breathing hard now, his muscles aching with the pain but he continued on. Suddenly he looked up and realized the canoe was directly in front oh him and his right leg grazed across a rock on Waimea ledge cutting open the skin. Blood started to pour out and Kepeneke knew it would only be a minute before the sharks found him. The canoe was bouncing on the waves as he struggled to pull himself in. Every part of his body hurt as he tried again and again to pull himself in. Down he would go under the water – then break the surface gasping for air and try to get in before he went under again. Suddenly he felt a small rock under his foot and using it for leverage he was able to almost jump into the outrigger.
He landed with a splash and thrashed about for a paddle when his hand found a small basket floating in the canoe. In the glow of the moon light he could see a small child inside – wrapped in clothes dyed the most brilliant and deepest blue. His mind raced – was it possible this was the royal heir to the throne of all of the Hawaiian Island – and if so – how did he end up here? Suddenly the outrigger lurched and Kepeneke was thrown against the side with tremendous force. The shock took his breath away and he realized they had just hit the outer edge of the reef. It would only be a minute before the waves swamped them for good and then battered them against the rocks.
Perhaps then the moon shone brighter – or perhaps the Gods looked upon him with favor – for suddenly he found a paddle and swinging around quickly started to thrust into the ocean with all his strength. Each stroke was met with another wave that threatened to push them back against the rocks – but inch by inch he worked himself and the baby out toward safety.
100 yards – then 50 yards. He could see the beach clearly now. If he could keep the heavily swamped canoe straight for just another minute he would be safe. Suddenly he felt the sand underneath and finally breathed his first full breath. He grabbed the basket with the child inside and leapt out and dashed across the surf finally collapsing by a coconut tree to catch his breath. He looked out across the bay and could see the shark fins circling Waimea in the moonlight. He shivered at the thought and looked down at his leg. The blood was still flowing through the gash but strangely it did not hurt. He took off his shirt and tied it around the wound and then scooping up the basket continued on to his house.
The lights from the windows cast a glow across the driveway as he limped up. He could see his father through the glass – and his mother. They seemed angry and he was sure they were going to be really mad when he got in. The basket was heavy now – and the blood on his leg way sticky and mixed with dirt and sweat. Just a bit further. He kept telling himself to go just 10 more feet and then when he got there – he would convince himself to go another 10. And then – like a dream it was over. His front door – hobbling over the last step – his father catching him – his mother taking the baby. A blur of bandages, hot tea and then bed.
He could hear whispers as he came to. He remembered something vaguely about his dreams but it all seemed so unreal. He went to roll over and the pain shot through his leg. It wasn’t a dream after all… he had rescued a baby from a certain death. He rolled slowly and lifted his leg out of bed. It throbbed as he placed his foot on the floor and tried to stand. The whispers were clearer now – he could make out a half dozen or so adults talking downstairs. So early he thought for company. He surveyed his leg – bandages soaked in blood and thought it best to tell his mother right away. He braced himself for each step as he went down - biting down hard to not make a sound from the pain. He stepped into the kitchen slowly and was greeted by absolute silence as he entered. He looked up and saw 4 men dressed in the deepest blue robes – one wearing a crown of fresh Plumeria. Kepeneke stopped and stared. Only King Kamahamaha wore such a headdress. He suddenly realized he was in the presence of his royal highness and tried to bow. His leg gave out and he tumbled to the ground in a most undignified manner. Trying to recover – he suddenly saw a hand extended to help him. As he looked up – he stared into the bright eyes of the King. Kepeneke could not believe what was happening – the King himself extended his hand – and he helped Kepeneke up onto his feet, and then, without warning, the king knelt before Kepeneke and taking his hand in his – bowed before him.
The King told Kepeneke the story of his youngest son. A child in the village had wanted him to know the fun of the outrigger and so had put him in – never expecting it would drift out to sea. The King has searched frantically all day for his child and feared he had died. Never had he been so grateful in all his life.
The King told Kepeneke he could have any wish he desired. Anything in his kingdom would be his for the asking. Kepeneke thought long and hard. What did he really want? A job in the royal court? A life of leisure never having to work?
Kepeneke thought of the Malehala – he thought of the surfers and the hunters. He thought of his friends and teachers. He looked into the kings eyes and suddenly his voice grew strong and firm. What he wanted he explained – was just to be himself. He would make his own way in life. And while he was not yet sure what that would be – he knew now that he truly could be anything he wanted. The king smiled, and with a nod to Kepeneke’s parents, turned and disappeared out the front door.
Kepeneke tried not to moan as he worked his crutches up the stairs of his school. He was late – but this time he had a good excuse. Surely there would be no detention after what he had done last night. But then he thought no one would believe him. The story he had to admit was pretty far fetched. Rescuing the heir to the royal throne? Not likely anyone would believe that. Still, he knew the truth and that would be enough. As he entered his class the voices suddenly stopped. He looked around as his classmates stared at him. He turned toward his desk and then he suddenly saw it. A fresh crown of plumeria lay atop a sash of the most brilliant and deepest blue. Across the front in gold letters was written Kepeneke Kine Kuka – Kepeneke, the Kings Guardian.
Passing the Torch
The late day sun smiles as she warms the young silhouettes perched on the teetering dock below.
Brave souls hold their noses and launch themselves as if astronauts drifting into space. They bob back to the surface, momentarily floating effortlessly and sending peals of laughter dancing across the shimmering waves.
Old eyes watch, reflecting on their youth and nod in silent understanding. The magic of summer passed from one generation to the next. Memories captured for all eternity.
Brave souls hold their noses and launch themselves as if astronauts drifting into space. They bob back to the surface, momentarily floating effortlessly and sending peals of laughter dancing across the shimmering waves.
Old eyes watch, reflecting on their youth and nod in silent understanding. The magic of summer passed from one generation to the next. Memories captured for all eternity.
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