Singed and Uke It or Not

‘Singed’

My thoughts on the evening of our second day (October 27, 2015), an expanded version of a notion that I’d posted on Facebook:

“Thus hath the candle singed the moth”, Portia reflects in Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice

The moth had no original intention to visit the flame, it saw the flickering brilliance within range and was inexorably drawn the source of the light via a tropism (an innate tendency) that requires its wings to beat faster to an external stimulus such as light. Since the candlelight falls more directly into one eye over the other the one wing beats faster than the other drawing it in shrinking concentric circles until it reaches the source of light, in this case the candle.

Our view from stage side seats,
just past stage right

I made the comment that Cindy and I are drawn to live music as the moth is to the flame and for three nights running we found that to be true. Our fourth night we simply surrendered and planned for the poolside music. It was not our intention to sit stage side and listen to the guitarist sing (mele) melodies which brought out the lithesome dancer to render music into motion with the hula interpretation of his singing. But our nearer ears heard the sounds and we could not fail to divert our dinner plans in lieu of taking in the music and dance, it is an imperative of our souls, our own personal tropism. We could no more walk away from the music (Pila ho’okani) than the moth from the flame.

With the trade winds blowing and whispering to our souls ('uhane) and the sky deepening to starlight, we could have spent the night in complete contentment if the pair could have drawn out the art for that long. In reword for our modest tip were given a lei, made by the dancer as we listened to the player. The flower necklace was a surprise and became an expression of our 'uhane.

While Cindy can approach the flames of music without being singed because of the music in her blood and tunes in her genes, I am not so fortunate and have found myself scorched for dabbling to near the source of music’s light. Others in my family have the gift but I am not so favored with the talent. I’ve come to grips with it and know in my heart that the closer to the truth in worship (adore = Ho’onani) I draw, the sweater is its aroma to the Lord. And that’s all I have to say about that.

'Uke It or Not...' - Homeward bound thoughts [October 29, 2015] –

Our morning swim puckered my fingertips we had dallied so long in the ocean. We didn’t want to leave the warm embrace of the Tropical Pacific (Pakipaki). Moana, the Hawaiian word for ocean, sounds motherly and the Pakipaki’s matronly care for us as we floated and propelled ourselves here and there with languid strokes was so inviting to us we could not abandon her.

There would be no rainbow on this morning as it was the first cloudless day that allowed us to see the tops of all three islands, Maui, Molokaʻi, and Lānaʻi. There were only a few clouds far to the northern reaches resting on the other side of our horizon.

Checkout time and a rigid schedule to make our flight home was all that compelled us to go ashore. There is no Hawaiian word for rigid that I could find, therefore we eased up enough to take in a few more sights and spend a few more precious minutes in Lāhainā. We had a good local lunch and followed it up with a musical (Ka hui maika'iana o na leo mele or harmony) acquisition to be enjoyed while eating Lappert’s Shave Ice under the great banyan tree. As Cindy posed under the Banyan with her new Ukulele in position and her case open for donations, she made a buck without strumming a cord. Okay, so I’m her biggest fan and slipped the dollar bill in after taking the shot. 

I find it emblematic of our time on the nani mokupuni that our personal souvenir is a musical instrument sure to bring pleasure with each strum.

Ride with heart and keep the iron side up.

jerry