Missing Home

The summers make me long for my home in Nebraska. My partner is heading there this year, but I will not be able to make it. Photos from home will have to suffice for now...

Life's Precious Moments

There are some moments in life so special, so impactful, that they take our breath away. I was blessed to have experienced such a unique moment over the weekend. Though it lasted for only a few minutes, I know it is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

By now it’s no secret that I dance hula—in public. Despite my best efforts to embrace the Aloha spirit, I often see my reasons for dancing as selfish. Namely, it makes me feel good and I know the more I practice, the better I will become. However, this Saturday, a father and daughter reminded me that hula and aloha are about more than just dancing. They are about living in the moment and sharing love, harmony and humility with everything and everyone around you.

My busking partner and I had been invited to perform at a small, fledging market in Bethesda, Maryland. Previous experiences there told us not to expect much, but the allure of a 75-degree, sunny morning was just too good to pass up. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones to feel that way. To our surprise, the market was moderately crowded as young parents strolled through the block with their children romping in fits of giggles and grins not far away. We started up our normal routine and a small crowd formed, adding excitement and energy to the atmosphere. When you perform on the street, you quickly learn that crowds are in a constant state of shifting and changing. So, it was no surprise when half way through our allotted time, the crowd that was once strong had nearly vanished. A few stragglers were here and there, but we had the immediate attention of no one.

That is, until, a pretty, middle-aged woman and an elderly man in a wheel chair walked—or in this case—rolled right up to our performance tent. As I danced, I watched their faces watching me. Something about them was different. They seemed peaceful, content, and not in a hurry like most market goers. In fact, once the number had ended, they didn’t hustle away as most would. Instead, the woman knelt down next to the man, cupped his hand in hers, and whispered things in his ear. “Can you see the beautiful dancer? Can you hear the music?” She calmly, gently engaged him in conversation, all the while keeping her eyes on myself and Moe.

We soon learned she was his daughter and he was 97. In her calm, graceful ways, the daughter informed us that her father’s mind worked perfectly, but other systems were beginning to shut down. The man had lost much of his hearing and vision in his older age. “I can see your movements, but I can’t make out the details of your face,” he told me. With that, Moe and I knew the next number had to be spunky, peppy, fun, flirty and flamboyant. We chose Ka Uluwehi O Kei Kai, an extremely popular song about picking seaweed down by the sea shore.

We began and the daughter once again found her place next to her father, kneeling so that she could hold his hand in hers and stroke his snow-white hair.  As I danced, I watched them both, but focused my attention on the daughter. She didn’t need to tell me what she was thinking; her expression said it all. It was clear her father wasn’t going to be around much longer and, through her eyes, her smiles, her gentle ways, she fully accepted that fact. She clung to this shared, fleeting moment and embraced it with every ounce of her being. My dad is happy and so am I.

As I watched the two of them together, a few things began to resonate deep inside.

·         Moments like these are what life is all about. There is no doubt in my mind these two will go through painful future experiences. Death is never an easy process, but it is something we must all experience. Despite these facts, this father and daughter duo put future struggles on the back burner and focused on what mattered most: their love for each other, their love of life, and the happiness of the moment.

·         I want to be more like this gentle, caring woman. As an only child, I know the day will come when I will be the primary care taker for my parents. I can only hope I exhibit half of the grace this woman showed to her ailing, aging father.

·         Death is part of life. As I danced, I thought about where each one of us was on the journey we call life. Death has always been a scary concept for me. However, as I reflected upon myself, my busking partner Moe, the daughter and her father, I began to understand that death is only an obstacle if one has not fully lived their life.

This experience taught me that time is a precious, precious gift. I feel so very blessed to have spent a few moments with some people who taught me so much about life and about myself. Mahalo nui loa e na ka pua hiwahiwa.

Therapy For The Soul

It ceases to amaze me how time flies. It seems like just yesterday I was celebrating the new year of 2011 with friends in Iowa. Now, 2011 is nearly over. Yet, as I reflect on the past year, I realize I have so much to be thankful for, especially because 2011 has brought many three-year mile stones. It has been three years since I’ve lived in Maryland, three years that I’ve worked professionally for the labor movement, and three years that I’ve proven to myself just how strong of a person I really am. This November, though, marks an especially poignant anniversary:  it’s been three years since I started dancing hula.

In some ways, it doesn’t seem possible that it’s been this long. And in other ways, it feels as though hula has been with me my entire life. What makes hula so special is the fact that it is more than just a dance or a discipline. For me, hula is a friend. It is constantly challenging my body and my mind, but it is true in spirit and in heart. I could say that what I put into hula I get out of it, but I’d be lying, for this art form has given me so much more.

It wasn’t long after I first started dancing that I faced one most trying experiences of my life. When it seemed as though the world was crumbling around me and I had nothing left, I danced. Hula picked me up from rock bottom and gave my life meaning and purpose. Through dance, I was able to safely explore and express devastatingly crushing emotions without fear of judgment or persecution.

Today, the healing process continues but I have come oh so far thanks, in part, to dancing. For me, hula is and always will be therapy for the soul.

Saturday Mornings

Saturday mornings are among my most favorite time of the week. They offer relaxed, uninterrupted moments to reflect, refresh, and rejuvenate the soul. I count Saturdays as a blessing and make it a point to delight in the simple joys they offer.

Among those joys is the FreshFarm Market in Downtown Silver Spring. A unique, peaceful space, the market demonstrates everything positive about the local community. It is here where neighbors and friends gather to share in life, love, music, and food. Home to local vendors from around the tri-state area, the Silver Spring market offers quality, nourishing fruits, vegetables, free-range meat, baked goods and canned goods at a reasonable price, all with little impact on the environment. Truly a treasure, the market is a local gem full of surprises.

That certainly was the case last Saturday when I ran into Moe, a local bassist who provided live music at that week's market. As it turns out, Moe also has a deep love and respect for the Hawai'ian culture and is kind enough to share the Aloha spirit through his music. Needless to say, last week's Saturday morning trip to the market was more than just an exercise in conscious, eco-friendly living. It turned into an impromptu ho'ike (performance), with Moe on the 'ukulele and myself on the kaholo (traveling step).

Hula has added unbelievable joy to my life and the ability to share it with others is a delight. Starting my Saturday morning living Aloha with new friends set the mood for the rest of the week and I have the market to thank for the chance encounter. Though it is primarily meant to nourish the body and the local community, I truly believe that, like hula and lazy, stress-free Saturday mornings, the market also nourishes the soul.

Adventures in Composting: An Experiment On Hold

Oh, it's on--just not right now. The components for composting have been collected and are, for all intensive purposes, ready to go. There's just one thing missing: worms. Because our local hardware store doesn't sell composting worms, they'll have to be ordered from Gardener's Supply. Under any other circumstances, that all-important "submit order" button would have been clicked hours ago. Unfortunately, the miracle-making magicians that make composting possible are high-maintenance buggars who require constant moisture and will need a speedy transfer from postal package to their new, permanent habitat. An extremely busy work schedule is taking me away from home for a few days toward the end of the month and I'm not brave enough to chance being out of town when the worms arrive. Therefore, composting will be put on hold until April.

When the worms do arrive, they'll have a homecoming fit for a king. Using methods outlined on ecolocalizer, a 14-gallon, dark plastic tub has been purchased and small holes have been drilled in five sides and the lid. Newspaper, which will act as bedding, has been shredded into strips and a second, smaller plastic container will act as a tray to catch excess moisture. The original plan was to place the bin under the sink in an easy-to-reach, non-lit area, but spacing didn't allow that to happen. Instead, the composting tub will share a space with the recycling bin, which is tucked between the microwave and a wall. It isn't as hidden as I had hoped, but it is out of direct sunlight and in an easily accessible location.

I've been tempted to save organic scraps for my new friends, but after seeing Hoarding: Buried Alive, had second thoughts. Instead, further research has been conducted on what can and cannot be used for compost. Definite nos include meat (there's none of that here anyway), chemicals and dairy products. Some sources encourage composters to shy away from whole grains and walnuts as well. Items that can be used for compost range from egg shells to sawdust and may include coffee grinds, tea leaves, paper products, cardboard, hair, vegetables, fruits, flowers, grass clippings, feathers, hay, seaweed, and moss. It has been suggested that all items be broken down into smaller pieces before entering the composting process, as this will help with speed.

I'm excited for the new routine and anxiously anticipate the day when I'm able to give some worms a great, new home. I assume there will be a learning curve involved, but I'm up for the challenge.

Adventures in Composting: A Preview

Spiritual and physical relationships with our Mother Earth are connections I have always valued, as they bring me comfort and joy. Though our society has moved away from rural, Earth-based living, I believe we can find balance between the conveniences of urban life and the sanctity of the natural world if we just put forth the effort. Ironically, living in a metropolis has caused me to become greener than ever before in my 26 years. It is here that I do not own a car, rely on public transportation (or my own two feet), purchase food from local vendors, and live in a multi-family dwelling where recycling is heavily promoted. Food choices in my area are bountiful and most businesses are aware of  plant-based dieters, making vegetarian meals not only easy, but abundant.

Despite the ways in which I live green, one avenue is glaringly vacant: that of composting. One of the most magnificent ways to respect and honor our natural world, composting reduces waste, makes one consciously aware of what is thrown out, and replenishes the Earth with high-quality, fertile soil. It's been a goal of mine for some time now to cross the barrier between sage green and full-on forest green by starting an indoor composting center in my kitchen. This spring, I hope to do just that.

Because I've never before done composting--let alone indoor composting--I've been relying heavily on those who have gone before me. A video by ecolocalizer has provided great inspiration and instruction, as has the Nature Conservancy and PlanetGreen.com. A plethora of tools and extensive research doesn't mean I don't have reservations, though. Even the best-laid plans can result in disaster. Case-in-point: the indoor garden that, thanks to a mischievous kitty, turned into a secondary litter box.

This blog will become a way to document successes and failures in what I hope will ultimately become a successful endeavor. Here's to happy worms, a stench-free kitchen, malu loko (inner peace) and our great Mother Earth.

Rejuvenated Spirit

The power of words plays an important role in everything we do from our most personal, intimate relationships to the billboards that dot urban skylines. As a writer, I am well aware of this fact. So when I came across an interesting phrase choices a few weeks ago,  I was surprised, stunned, curious--and, as it turns out, delighted--when I realized what a profound impact three little words have on my collective being.


The phrase was found in the description of a documentary a friend recommended about the medicinal impact vegetarianism has on the general population. But a key ingredient, if you will, was missing. That harsh, polarizing, frightening word vegetarianism wasn't anywhere in the narrative. Instead, the authors chose to use the simple, yet majestic phrase plant-based diet.


Plant-based diet.


How could three little words mean so much? In the three years I've spent making the conscious effort to exclude meat from meals, I'd never come across the phrase. Yet, from the moment I read it, I was left with a new understanding of myself and the lifestyle I've chosen to embrace.


At its core, vegetarianism is, for me, a near-spiritual experience, an exercise in self control and a testament to my belief system. When pairing the action with harsh letters like V and isms, though, the peaceful act of refusing to destroy animals for consumption becomes radical and militant. Lord knows I've had to defend my diet on multiple occasions, and often to those closest to me, probably because the word vegetarianism conjures up images of ecoterrorists and anti-establishment teens looking to defy authority. Plant-based diet, however, is anything but vicious. Peaceful, calm and soothing, those words open the mind, leading the body and spirit to embrace a lifestyle rich in tranquility. While vegetarianism always has and probably always will remind me of the items I refuse to consume, the words plant, based and lifestyle reveal dietary choices that are practically unlimited.


Turning away death as a way to live brings joys and gratification, though I'm the first to admit it isn't always easy. Those first steps, when one is overly committed and eager, are sometimes the least problematic. It's the long haul that can present challenges. Yet, rebranding vegetarianism as the pursuit of a plant-based diet rejuvenates the spirit and offers the mind a refreshed approach to finding life through food.