Hula is Life….Life is Hula

Ke ha`a ala Puna i ka makani
Puna is dancing in the wind
Ha`a ka ulu hala i Kea`au
Dancing are the hala groves at Kea`au
Ha`a Hā`ena me Hōpoe
Dancing is Hā`ena with Hōpoe
Ha`a ka wahine `ami i kai o Nānāhuki
Dancing are the women by the sea of Nānāhuki
Hula le`a wale i kai o Nānāhuki
A dance of joy by the sea of Nānāhuki
Hula le`a wale i kai o Nānāhuki
A dance of joy by the sea of Nānāhuki

This chants gives us a glimpse into the depth of time that hula transcends.  Hōpoe, best friend of Hiʻiakaikapoliopele (Hiʻiaka), shares a hula with Hiʻiaka on the shores of Puna.  The women are not alone, with them dancing at Puna are the groves of hala along the shore of Nānāhuki.  They are dancing with nature and nature is dancing with them.  This oneness captures my feeling of HULA.

It is life, it is seen in all things around us.  The trees dance in the wind, the sea dances with itʻs currents moving to and fro, the birds sing their songs, the earth trembles and moves, the land breathes life into the plants and animals that feed from it, it is these movements of energy I call the “dance of life.”  Hula is Life.....Life is Hula.

Hula is the storyteller.  The chants are the memoirs of my ancestors. 

I have been dancing hula since a young child, my mother being my first teacher.  Gathering from the forest to create lei for hula are some of my fondest memories of being a child and being with my mother.  When we arrived at the forest she instructed us accordingly which brought a deep respect for the space and my first feelings of affection for the forest.  I loved the quiteness and peace that allowed me to hear the birds so clearly.  I knew where my mom was because I could hear the crackling of the forest floor and she stepped through it.  She would call out “hui!” to my sister and I to check on us, our reply was simply “hui!” that was our signal that all was well for her and us.  We were not allowed to hike into the forest with her, we stayed near the edge of the forest and gathered the liko that was within our reach. We knew to be quiet and gentle in our steps and our voices.  When Mom was done, she returned to us with hands full of sweet smelling maile, we would show her what we had gathered and together we packed up the car and headed home.

Today, when I dance hula, these memories are right there with me.  I can see mom, I can smell the maile, I feel the dampness and chiliness of the forest, we are one forever. 

I recall asking my Mom for advice as a teenager for a variety of things and her only response to me was always “donʻt worry, you have your hula.”  Of course at that age I didnʻt understand why she would say that, but no questions were ever asked about it, I simply smiled and tucked that in my mind as I had always done.  When I was in my 20ʻs, it was hula that pulled me through some of the most difficult times I had ever experienced.  I finally understood clearly what my mom was saying all those years. 

Having this connection to space, land, elements was taught without being “taught.” My sister and I watched, followed, listened, from the childhood days with our mother to the young adult years with our Kumu, this sacred oneness of spirit with space and all its elements was what hula became for me.  As I matured, my understanding and awareness matured.  The forest is my sacred space, where I find my peace and connection and keeps my dance of life moving gracefully regardless of the bumps in the road.

My ancestors were this connection, it was natural, it was simply “life.”  Their interconnectedness to all that was around them allowed them to thrive.  The awareness of the elements and the movement of earthʻs energy was their compass from daily living to sacred rituals.  Their way of life and beliefs are documented in chants and mele.  These chants and mele are gifts for us to step back into time with them and bring forward their teachings; ancient wisdom is timeless it is always relevant.  Hula then becomes the storyteller, the words are turned into motions and expressions of their stories.  When we move our bodies we become part of the space we are in and are nourished by this exchange.

We have a choice, we can dance through life with motions that are erratic with no purposeful intentions that are easily influenced with no meaning; or we can dance through life with gracefulness, with motions that are intentional and grounded in Aloha, unconditional love, full of meaning and goodness, and oneness with all that is around you.

It is in the trees as they dance in the wind, it is in the sun as it warms the earth, it is in the birds as they dance and sing in the sky, it is in the ocean and it sways back and forth.  Hula is my sacred space, what moves me through life, it is all that I am, all that I have been, and all that I will be for the rest of my life.  Life is Hula. Hula is Life.