Nesting Instinct

 "She had to do something to make it right. She did not yet know what, nor how, but love has a way of leaving people no choice." - Katherine Rundell "The Good Thieves" 

The blustery, rain-soaking season -- Lono -- reminds us who is really in charge of life on this ever-spinning home of ours. The Elementals swirl so wind direction is like the line from the hapa haole mele, "like the swirling winds over the pali/lovely hula hands/ kou lima nani e." 

I went down to the water's edge the other day to clear my head, oli Lono, and ask for guidance with the bucking horse of life. There were many things to do on my list and most challenged my capacity to sort or combine rationality with intuition; do the two necessarily need to be separate to be useful? Going to the ocean water realigns my place with the whole. As I walked down the long stretching sandy shore the company of Water Beings combined with Wind.

Among the hallowed womb of a Tall One were two stone eggs nestled just as you see above.  

Back at home, on the place where Fresh Water and Salty Water swirl in the channels below us Pete works on putting layers of his history with restoration into practice. Tile panels he assembled nearly ten years ago are being reused. The many steps involved in recreating a nest is one way of knowing that life -- in her elemental form-- swirls with familiar memories leaning into those potentialities not yet solid.

Beneath the terra cotta tile panels, cement block squares were set into the damp sandy floor, leveled and corrected from his on-the-knees position to create a framework to rest the galvanized steel forms we found at Island Recycling. 

These two layers are intended to "float" us or keep us afloat when the pond on which we live rises even as Lono kulani (rain falling) brings water down. 

Pete's tools and TuTuff Vapor barrier covers the layered block and channeling to keep moisture and mold from taking over. Each layer has its peculiarities and fitting into the reconfigured frame presents Pete with obstacles, gifts, and unexpected angles.

The parts don't always fit smoothly. There are edges. Gaps. 

Outside, the last of the Sunflowers eek out the energy they need to be the flowers they are. How tenacious they are, and opportunistic as they draw light down to keep blooming.

Between this island on the Salish Sea and the O'ahu moku where our family lives, a message comes: "If we can swing it ... we're planning a trip (to be with us). Can you accommodate us?' 

With very little thinking or rationalizing, I texted back, "Sure." As the character Vita in the story The Good Thieves said, "Love has a way of leaving people no choice." 

There are shoes to try on. Strange new experiences, yes. Shoes can be strange. And tiring.

I oli Lono with my voice, calling to my nurturing genes, and the waters of Lono within me. The chaos of distractions that flood the pathways of communication challenge us all to adapt. My mo'o(puna) my grandson and his newly evolving life influence me to feel the waters of life and love within me. The waiwai (water water) in Hawaiian means 'the values.' The values that sustain over time into perpetuity. Forever. 

Can I accommodate the ocean voyagers who carry my genes and the potential of life not yet imaginable? Between writing this I study the journey of my ancient ancestors -- Pele and Hi'aka. Challenged. Equipped to navigate and rise to the difficulties the oli (Hawaiian chant) text incite me with the curiosity and long-sighted vision to see how nesting instincts swell with the journeying.

Can I accommodate the ocean voyagers? Yes is the answer. Aloha is the answer. Pete and I say "Yes. Lalani akua, align me with aloha  you multitudes of potentialities (gods)." 

E ola, ho'i e  (to life again, to life !) is the last line in the oli "Pule Ho'uluulu Na Hi'iaka" from N.B. Emerson's Pele & Hi'iaka. I study it. I translate. I interpret. I prepare to grow as Hi'iaka grew. I prepare to oli. I apply it to my now.