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kateelliottMy friend Julia and I went to Moonlight Mele on the Lawn, a concert series held on the lawn of the Bishop Museum. The weather was partly cloudy, giving us a few spatterings of mist, but the rain held off. We grabbed something to eat at one of the food booths and spread a blanket on the grass and settled in for 2+ hours of music, local style.
Off to the right, one could see the occasional jet lifting into the sky from the airport. The sky here is vast and open because it drops away into the water, which is, of course, everywhere. Hawaii is of course inextricably linked with the ocean; I suppose that the salt water permeates everything, every bit of air we breathe here, for we are never far away.
I lay back on the blanket and watched the palm fronds waves in the trade winds. The performers played their lovely music, and made local jokes, and sang sometimes in English and sometimes in Hawaiian and talked story (told an informative tale) about every song before they sang it. You just have to do that here, because a mele (song) is more than words and music, here anyway. It is always more, because of the way Hawaiian tradition is structured.
Hawaii is not only Native Hawaiian, though; with the influx of so many immigrants for work during the plantations years, it has developed its own distinctive local culture which is, as many of the people are, a mix of disparate elements. One thing that remains stable throughout is the pervasive sense of humor.
Tomorrow I will drive to the North Shore and paddle with my club, depending on who turns out for a morning practice on July 4.
We moved to Hawaii eight years ago because my spouse got work here. I would never have come otherwise: as a teen, I had come on vacation here one time with my grandparents and cousin and we stayed at resorts and even back then I disliked resorts, so that vaguely negative impression of Hawaii (pretty but artificial) stuck with me.
But I fell in love with this place on the 3rd day I was here, and I haven't looked back. If I never lived anywhere else from now, that would be fine. If you told me I would feel this way, lo any time before we moved here, I would not have believed you. I actually literally don't understand how powerfully I connected with this place.
Not everyone does feel that connection. There are many reasons to struggle in Hawaii, which I won't list here. But I think some forms of connection are not quantifiable; I don't think we can predict or describe things like 'resonance' (in terms of something "resonating" with you but not with someone else) and 'connection.' They can't be held or measured but they exist.
I have traveled a fair bit. Some places I am happy to have visited, and might even want to go back to, to see more, but I wouldn't want to live there. Some places I wish I could live for a few months to get a better feel for them. Some places I felt no connection to at all. Others, like Copenhagen, where we lived for four months in 1999, I think we could have happily stayed. I grew up in the Willamette Valley in Oregon, a place that still grounds my heart.
And yet every day when I wake up, I think: lucky we live Hawaii. I hate leaving, and can't wait to come back, even though Oahu is a tiny isolated rock in a huge ocean. Every time I go out on that ocean, and look back at the land, I think that we are an island on an island, and this place is a refuge.
Not everyone is fortunate enough to live in a place they love.
Do you live in a place you love, or one you only tolerate? If you love it, why? If not, where would you rather be?
Off to the right, one could see the occasional jet lifting into the sky from the airport. The sky here is vast and open because it drops away into the water, which is, of course, everywhere. Hawaii is of course inextricably linked with the ocean; I suppose that the salt water permeates everything, every bit of air we breathe here, for we are never far away.
I lay back on the blanket and watched the palm fronds waves in the trade winds. The performers played their lovely music, and made local jokes, and sang sometimes in English and sometimes in Hawaiian and talked story (told an informative tale) about every song before they sang it. You just have to do that here, because a mele (song) is more than words and music, here anyway. It is always more, because of the way Hawaiian tradition is structured.
Hawaii is not only Native Hawaiian, though; with the influx of so many immigrants for work during the plantations years, it has developed its own distinctive local culture which is, as many of the people are, a mix of disparate elements. One thing that remains stable throughout is the pervasive sense of humor.
Tomorrow I will drive to the North Shore and paddle with my club, depending on who turns out for a morning practice on July 4.
We moved to Hawaii eight years ago because my spouse got work here. I would never have come otherwise: as a teen, I had come on vacation here one time with my grandparents and cousin and we stayed at resorts and even back then I disliked resorts, so that vaguely negative impression of Hawaii (pretty but artificial) stuck with me.
But I fell in love with this place on the 3rd day I was here, and I haven't looked back. If I never lived anywhere else from now, that would be fine. If you told me I would feel this way, lo any time before we moved here, I would not have believed you. I actually literally don't understand how powerfully I connected with this place.
Not everyone does feel that connection. There are many reasons to struggle in Hawaii, which I won't list here. But I think some forms of connection are not quantifiable; I don't think we can predict or describe things like 'resonance' (in terms of something "resonating" with you but not with someone else) and 'connection.' They can't be held or measured but they exist.
I have traveled a fair bit. Some places I am happy to have visited, and might even want to go back to, to see more, but I wouldn't want to live there. Some places I wish I could live for a few months to get a better feel for them. Some places I felt no connection to at all. Others, like Copenhagen, where we lived for four months in 1999, I think we could have happily stayed. I grew up in the Willamette Valley in Oregon, a place that still grounds my heart.
And yet every day when I wake up, I think: lucky we live Hawaii. I hate leaving, and can't wait to come back, even though Oahu is a tiny isolated rock in a huge ocean. Every time I go out on that ocean, and look back at the land, I think that we are an island on an island, and this place is a refuge.
Not everyone is fortunate enough to live in a place they love.
Do you live in a place you love, or one you only tolerate? If you love it, why? If not, where would you rather be?