Prayers rewritten

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Earth, my soul to keep..."
(click here to read the rest of Terri Windling's version of this poem-prayer)   

I've been communicating with my family back in Hawaii. My uncle, the last of the elder generation -- our kupuna, and my mother's youngest brother, has passed into spirit at 96 years of age. Over the past couple of days I have had a chance to tell or email the following short story( in more or less this form): 

"The nightsky is dark here at not quite midnight on the prairie front of Whidbey Island. I woke from sleep, sad with the news of Uncle Bill's passing. It is very cool here at night, the season has shifted. It is Fall. So it took me some time to pull on long underwear tops and bottoms in the dark, not waking Pete. Out on the porch I reached up for the flashlight and found my stocking cap then slipped into my red rubber boots.

"With the flashlight ON I found my walking stick to make sure I'd be steady on my feet for the walk across the sloping land. Once pa'a with that o'o I turned upward and there they all were. A sky filled with stars and the Milky Way. All the 'Aumakua were present. I turned to greet them all and named the ones I knew were together tonight. The sadness I feel is real, I am human. So many feelings. The fulllness of tonight's sky makes for something in addition to the sadness. 

Bountiful is Ka Lani Nui

Richer this night"

With each share, I receive in return some gem of meaningful exchange. When first I shared this in email, I learned the Hawaiian name of my Aunty means 'pathway to the heavens.' Her husband, my uncle, was named Ko'omealani; I learned his name means 'pillars holding up the heavens.' Seeing the Milky Way befitted the reunion of these two lovers and long-time married ancestors. Another conversation raised the reality of what it takes for me to get ready to go outside; foreign to someone who doesn't need to relate to long underwear as a necessity.

Just before dusk last evening a friend we hadn't seen all spring and summer arrived with a beautiful tray carrying freshly-baked three apples pie. I haven't been doing pie lately, but that changed. For several years running, our friend has baked us apple pie as a seasonal and birthday thing. November is my birthday month. That tradition -- celebrate the birth malama (month), is something I'm looking forward to. When you haven't seen good friends for months that's so much to catch up on.

We talked of things of deep consequence, while Pete and I ate big slices of pie. Yum. Hot tea chased the cooling temperatures that come quickly when the sun drops into the trees. The moon in her 'Ole Holoku (Quarter Moon phase) was bright in the southern sky with Venus and Mars near-by. We spoke of our lives, hers and ours, and the activities of young and energetic people we know in common. The story of the Nightsky was told again with commentary to embellish and rewrite the original telling just as many storytellings do.

When the last of a generation of elders takes his last breath, we who remain exhale in a sort of collective response. Whew. What was that life all about? What indeed is a life lived all about. My sister-in-law and I talked, listened and laughed long and heartfully as we caught up yesterday. It has also been many months since our last phone conversation. Why do we wait so long to pause and exchange the ha, the breath of life. Is it doing so much that keeps us separated? Until one of the clan passes, taking the ha with him and there is time to reconsider priorities, at least for the moment.

The poem, or prayer link that begins this post is from Terri Windling's blog Myth & Moor. I found it just after finishing my delicious breakfast topped with a slice of three-apples pie and a second mug of tea. Windling's version of the prayer I have often said to myself on nights when my world was like a kapu being dismantled, is a much gentler version. I appreciate the difference. A prayer rewritten to suit my world now is such a kind way to make peace with a struggle or fear that needs to be set down, turned over to a power greater than myself. 

I have taken time to find my balance after the fall several weeks ago, and more time is need to know exactly what comes next. To be willing and able to hold that tension that hinges on balancing discipline with spontaneity, certainty with wildly open black holes different versions of a once commonly held truth takes something. Courage? Open-heartedness?

For now it seems fitting to share this brief essay/post in a mini-blast (a small hinged email) to reconnect with those who mean a lot to me. Blowing a kiss, a hug and an open-ended ? your way. 

xoxo ~~~ xoxo

Amama. Ua Noa.

How are you? Pehea 'oe?

Photo Credit: "A Million Stars" from Wikimedia Commons