Ke Aloha Aina; Heaha Ia?

What Does It Mean To Love Home?

Nearly two decades ago, after a frigid yet snowless winter in the high country that found me with little more than a broken heart from an overly drawn out break up with a girl I was convinced I loved and just enough money to buy a plane ticket to anywhere but where I was, I opted to book a one way ticket to Maui. Upon arrival there it dawned on me that I had no money and very few friends on that tiny island in the middle of the sea. Yet, being young, fantastically naive, and well versed in the fine art of dirtbagging, after exiting that quaint little orchid-filled airport, I stuck my thumb up and was quickly picked up by a kind soul who offered me some fruit and welcomed me into his home, in Haiku.

Those were the days before cell phones. Those days were special. They demanded more from us. More cleverness, ingenuity, and presence. I had friends on the island, but I didn’t have an easy way to find them. So, I made new friends. And as anyone who has thrusted themselves into other lands solo knows, when forced into that unique place of vulnerability and surrender that entrance into a foreign environment requires, one becomes humble rather quickly and learns how to ask the right questions, with courtesy.

I wound up spending several days with this aging, garden-obsessed hippie with full presence. He liked me. And I liked him. I was interested in learning more about plants and he was interested in having a friend. So, he eventually asked me if I would like to stay there. He had an extra room and needed extra help. He said he could even offer me a small stipend if I could offer a bit of help in the gardens each day. Before I knew it, I had found a new home, in what seemed lightyears away from the icy mountains of Colorado.

Prior to going to Hawai’i, like most Americans, I knew nothing about the place beyond the fantasy ideals sold to us from various colonial narratives. I knew you surf there. I knew it was beautiful. I knew people danced hula and wore flowers in their hair. But beyond that, I had little knowledge of the people who called this place home prior to its invasion. I had no view of how to engage with the land and sea, with the “aina” with reverence. Educated as I was from a people who view all things as “things”, simple lifeless resources to be used for human benefit, I had never encountered a world where such marvels as mountain springs, waterfalls, hidden caves, etc were viewed as sacred. The word sacred itself was a word I had seldom encountered.

After living in Maui for a while, I was lucky to befriend an older Hawai’ian man who invited me to join him for walks into the forest from time to time. I loved those walks, upon which he would share with me old Hawai’ian myths, history, botanical wisdom, songs, etc. I had never met anyone like him before. He was old, but vital. He spoke sometimes with kindness and humor and sometimes with shocking ferocity, but always with elegance and purpose. I don’t know why he decided to invite me into his world, which to me was filled with magic, but I am so grateful he did. In many ways, he bestowed upon me one of the most important educations I have ever received, a view that took humans out of the center of all life and placed us instead alongside and within the entire circle of sentient life, spiraling collectively around the Earth and Sea, reverently.

One day, after walking a long way through the jungle, we came across a series of sacred pools. I was told a beautiful story about the trickster Maui, the goddess Pele and many other deified beings. The tale animated many plants we passed along the way as well, and incorporated mountain ridges we could see far off in the distance as well as ones nearby. Little birds chirping, sea turtles and the big blue sky all found their way into this living tale. The whole Big Story seemed to be revealing an interconnected web of relations that placed the Mother Waters at the helm. Just as the Story ended, or, not so much ended but sprung forth into actual life, we approached the edge of one of the pools. We did not go in. Instead, my teacher, friend, elder, etc. sang some songs and made a prayers. He thanked the Goddess of the Waters and vowed to protect Her. We then sat in silence for a long time. Listening, breathing, enjoying.

Eventually peace was interrupted by a family of tourists. Recently a book had been published that revealed where all of Maui’s sacred pools were. The father held this book in his hand. His children held plastic toys in their hands and his wife carried with her a bag filled with sunscreen, a speaker, and beers. They were excited and ready to play, jollily skipping along anxious to plop down wherever felt good to them, hop in the pool and cool off.

My uncle greeting them. “Aloha”, he said kindly. “Hello!” the father said back, “Nice day!” as he covered himself liberally with Oxybenzone and cracked open a beer. “It is brother, it is a nice day indeed.” Uncle replied, and then asked them where there were from and what they were intending to do here. The giant white man seemed a bit put off by the question but replied lazily with something the lines of “we are from the mainland on vacation!”, his tone suggesting he didn’t want to have a real conversation. “Well, friend, we are glad to host you here on our beloved island. We only ask that you respect our ways, our land and sea. Please, do not enter these sacred pools. There are many pools on this Island you can enter, but these here are sacred.”

At this point the white man grew agitated and discourteous. “What are you talking about?! I have a guidebook I purchased at the airport bookstore right here that showed me how to get here. It’s on public land! I am on vacation! I have worked hard all year and we are going for a swim! “He took a good, long swig a beer and gestured for his kids to get in the pool.

Uncle stood up quickly then, seemingly transforming suddenly into a bear. He roared and stopped the children merely by glancing in their direction. Then he spoke directly to their naïve father. “Friend, you will not go in these waters. I welcome you to my Island, and encourage you to explore our ocean and waterfalls, but this pool here, is sacred. My people will not go in these waters. I myself have never set foot in these pools and neither will you.”

As the anger erupted in the white man like lava nearing the surface of the very volcanoes that birthed the island we now stood upon, it became clear that he was not going to listen to my friend. In spiteful rage he began to approach the water’s edge at which point uncle grabbed him and forcefully removed him from the area with ease. His family was crying and clearly stressed. Having never encountered anyone who viewed water as holy, something worth protecting, they were also befuddled and curious. Not sure what to do, they ran quickly away to report the incident to the local authorities. And it wasn’t long before several cops showed up and arrested my friend.

The following day a story of how natives were increasingly having a negative impact on the local economy was printed that cleverly manipulated local views of aina, of how one ought to honor land, suggesting not that one should keep certain bioregions sacred and pristine, but that people ought live with honor by supporting so-called “development”.

I never saw uncle again. After that incident I felt I had learned all that Maui had come into my life to teach me, lessons about our place in an animate world, lessons detailing how to walk in this world with respect and courtesy, lessons telling of a love for land, living in Myth. It seemed clear to me that although Maui had treated me well and taught me much, it wasn’t a place for me to settle down in, it wasn’t my home. I had been blessed in many ways and it was time to leave.

I think of uncle regularly. The stories he shared with me still reveal new insights, ever deepening my understandings of how to live with honor. I still find too the privileged family on vacation, nearly everywhere I go, frightening local spirits, destroying coral reefs, disrupting elk migrations, confusing birds with Starlink trails leading into hypnotic worlds of AI.

Uncle did what he could. He knew Aloha Aina.

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Dedicated to “uncle” and all the good people of Maui who were so kind to me. May you find ways to see the medicine now in Maui’s tricks…