Hawaii Night Sky

"Night Sky"

To see more of Miles Morgan's amazing photograph -- www.milesmorganphotography.com

Studying the night sky,
I find that starlight falls
quite gently on my face.
It is not as if I had
anything to hide, though
my hot mammal thoughts
simmer endlessly.
The stars do not mind.
They are cool and remote
shining without passion
or possession through
the long cosmic miles.
It is their distance
that comforts me.
Above the stirring
and blood violence
they are serene.
Their dispassionate light
coolly lingers on my skin.
I taste the cold immensity
of distance and grow calm.

Sherri Rose-Walker
Copyright 1987

Last night was the longest night of the year and the stars from the back porch at 3am were glorious. While I cannot capture their beauty either in photograph or poetry, I am very grateful to those who can, like Miles Morgan and Sherri Rose-Walker, who as been my friend since about 1986; she is my absolute favorite poet.

Blue Heaven On The Skin

Yesterday I took myself down Pahoa-Pohoiki Road (better known by locals as Mango Road) to Ahalanui Park for a late afternoon  swim at the warm pond there on the edge of the ocean. 

The full moon was awesome last night, the water...ahh, just the temperature of my skin.  For this child-of-water, the experience is indescribable.  "Floating between" sky and earth, I cannot tell where my body ends and the water begins.  I am suspended and surrounded in a bliss of well-beingness.


At one time I might have said, "I have waited all my life to be here."  But the truth is that every single step along the way has brought me to this place of nurture, warmth and magic.  As curved waves break over the edge of the lava and pour into the pond, I am swept by unseen currents and my body rises and falls rhythmically.

I see tourists coming down with their cameras to take a picture of it, but they do not get in, and "click" they are gone.  This is "to experience."  Those who have had the privilege know; those who have not -- well, how can you even explain it.  So, after a year of satisfying "labor" (on house, ohana, yard, and garden) my muses are again calling to me to ??  somehow express and articulate (with my own artist's voice) the wonder I feel.

While it is certainly womb-like, all movement is completely unrestricted.  I feel both strongly connected to the earth, but suspended under the blue sky, I also feel my connection to the heavens and beyond.  At dusk, I float, arms extended, my right hand holds the sun, and the moon is cradled in my left hand.  I am an orb.  My dear Priestess of Poetry, Sherri Rose-Walker, once read me a new poem that contained the phrase "blue heaven on the skin" -- and I stopped breathing!  How aptly those five words captured how it feels to be in the living water.  While a photo or painting might capture the "image" I cannot stop there; I am driven to express how this experience FEELS.

"Letting Loss Lead"

Our move to the Big Island of Hawaii has been a grand adventure  no doubt!  But in addition to the thrill and excitement, we have clearly identified a series of obvious and more subtle losses in our relocation.

Since we were owners of Many Hands Gallery for 22 years, we know the retail term 'loss leader' as something that you sell at a small loss because it brings customers in who will buy other things; it is a pretty standard industry practice.  Identifying the losses we experienced has been a profound learning experience and we have encouraged our loss to "lead us" to learn more about ourselves.

We have each identified a variety of losses associated with our relocation and retirement.  There's the obvious loss of a working income - now that we are both on Social Security AND Medicare!  There were many obvious losses early on, as we let go of vast amounts of accumulated "stuff." Sadly, in the year before we left, we also experienced the loss of two of our family members, our sweet corgi kids - Abbey Ennis Puddin'chin and Chauncy R. Valentine.

Lunel created this image of a vessel

Letting go of Many Hands Gallery didn't feel like a loss at all  -- we were ready to let go of retail, although we had made hundreds of friends through the gallery over 22 years of business who will be missed. Other losses came in the form of Phil's divestment of his inventory of lighthouse note cards, lots of art, both personal and collected over 40 years.  Both of us let go of many family heirlooms.  Lunel felt she simply could not take nearly 100 precious boxes of assemblage treasures - which also meant leaving supplies and numerous completed pieces with a broker.  Finally, leaving friends is a clearly identifiable loss; we know it will take years to accumulate dear friends like those we left behind.

Perhaps the most illusive loss we both faced is the loss of our artist's identity.  Phil was creating and selling many redwood items through Many Hands, and Lunel was delighted in her growing skill, the number of galleries she was involved with, the great press coverage of her art and the fact she was selling pieces monthly.  Phil is committed to continuing his watercolor paintings and exploring the wonderful woods of Hawaii.  Lunel, though is a little lost and finding her current property development projects to be satisfying distractions.

It has been valuable to explore these cracks in our heart -- these losses we have experienced.  But we have also both identified "loss" as something that can lead us -- to explore our inner longings and the outward expression of our experiences.  We are reminded of the story about Rumi, who, when dealing with a profound loss and deep grief literally "spun" his sadness away by whirling!!   Rumi's quote about loss is appropriate as well; "The wound is the place where the light enters you."

Our dear friend and San Francisco Bay Area poetess Sherri Rose-Walker says it poignantly in her poem entitled:

"The Wisdom of Brokenness"

Among the People, it is said
broken vessels are holy.
Lightning cracks mended,
bound with twine
to hold the integrity of their shapes,
they are blessed, given grain
and sacred stones to hold.
The wounds of such vessels
see, breathe, allow
inner eyes to see out,
outer eyes to see within.
Cracks, fissures,
gaping mouths of broken doorways
are passages for mothering air
to bestow her luminous light,
stir new breath,
alter the alchemy of time.

Make of my wounds gateways,
breathing and seeing;
bind up my broken shape,
fill me with still music.

Sherri Rose-Walker
Copyright All Rights Reserved

September 2012