Heavenly Hawk
Walk to reflect, release, receive, and return
November 15th | Sunset | ‘Awapuhi Labyrinth | 2024
Dazzled by the full moon dancing over ‘Awapuhi Labyrinth, a gentle misting of kilihune rain awakening every hair on my skin, I froze as two ‘io swooped down, piercing the air several feet above my head. These native hawks are endemic to Hawaii—they’re found nowhere else in the world—and they represent both royalty and ‘aumakua, family or personal guardian spirits.
Connections and portents rolled through me as I stood barefoot and open-mouthed in their wake. This November trip to the islands was envisioned long before becoming a steward of this precious labyrinth was ever a possibility. I agreed to plan a trip to O’ahu to celebrate my mom’s 80th birthday, and we spent a week on a “Circle Island Mom Tai” tour, meeting friends, visiting the neighborhood where I grew up, and eating ALL the food.
I build a solar LED labyrinth on Kailua Beach, where my grandmother’s ashes are scattered; we took leis to Lanikai Beach, where my dad’s ashes have now become part of the reef. We even visited ‘Iolani Palace, where Hawaiian royalty once lived and were imprisoned . ‘Iolani comes from the words ‘io for hawk and lani for heaven or sky.
I felt my ‘aumakua all around. Saw them dancing as camera blurs through my labyrinth. Caught their blessings in the palm of my hand. I arrived on the Big Island after sending my mom back to Atlanta, and I wondered whether I’d find as warm of a welcome on this newer, wilder island.
Rain poured from the sky as I made my way to HPP from the Hilo airport, and I wondered whether the skies might clear at all on this winter visit, but Deborah and Tucker’s place was warm and inviting. Deborah presented me with a key to ‘Awapuhi, and we embarked the next day on a shopping trip to pick out paint and curtain fabric.
I planned to lead a full moon walk, and Deborah showed me how to set up the tall battery lights on stakes throughout the labyrinth. I brought some of my own solar LED strings, and together, we said a few little prayers for clear skies.
Participants gathered in the gazebo, and we drew cards from an oracle deck and shared thoughts about them. The skies looked threatening, so we dove into our walk. I sang a few lines—Loosen, loosen, baby, you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your muscles and bones, let go, let go, let go—and delighted when others joined in after a few repetitions.
I brought more curiosity than ceremony to this gathering. I wanted to listen more than I wanted to impose. How does this community gather? What do they find meaningful?
Songs and stories.
And the late-night cry of a hawk to welcome me home.
This is what I heard.
The questions I took into the labyrinth with me were:
What steps can I take now to bring me laughter, lightness, and ease in the months ahead?
Where am I curious about ways to gather with community as a source of light and comfort?
The answers are, of course, still tricking down from lani, with the ‘io’s blessing. I have taken a keener interest in the ways that I gather with other humans, articulating more clearly what I hope to experience and create. I have chosen to focus my efforts in service toward raising awareness of rank choice voting as a way to cultivate common ground with others in an increasingly and bitterly divided world. I have also taken steps to protect my center, the core of my energy. I have deepened my yoga practice by signing up for a 50-hour yin yoga certification.
Before I left, however, I planted my first tree—a sharwil avocado—caught a sunrise along the HPP cliffs, joined Deborah for yoga and Zen, removed the last blockers from the sale of ‘Awapuhi, and left ho’okupu offerings overlooking the sacred valley of Waipi’o. I met friends, played games, showered in the rain, sang under rainbows, weed wacked for hours, and just let myself open up to the nectar of life.
I accept this grace with gratitude.
I contemplate the steps I can take now that will bring my joy and laughter, lightness and ease in the months ahead.
I spark curiosity about the ways I can gather with community as a source of light and comfort.