When traveling on holiday for a winter break from our oyster farm on Cortes Island, I want to take my spiritual practice with me. This often is much harder than it sounds. The powerful presence of nature in our northern Canadian forests makes saying prayers to spirits of place very easy. There certainly are powerful spiritual forces here on the island of Kauai, but these energies do not recognize me or the spirit language I speak or the spirit food I offer. Perhaps my gestures are not appropriate and I am putting my practice at risk. I drew a Journey Oracle card before I left on this Hawaiian holiday, and really took heart from the damage and perserverance in the card's story.
REFUSING TO LET GO
A drum maker was giving a demonstration. She showed the fitting of skin, and the weaving of thongs to make a handle. She was joining all the parts together when in came an elderly woman. "I am unfortunately in a hurry," the old woman said. "I brought you a drum to repair. It came from my travels in Russia. Thirty years ago my niece put her foot though the skin, and it has been stored in my shed ever since.” With that the old woman handed over the broken drum and left.
The drum seemed irreparable. Its square nails had rusted heads that broke off at a finger
touch. The skin was rotted away from the hoop edges, whose wood had separated and buckled. The rim of the drum was fitted with brass jingles whose pins were broken or bent. The drum maker thought “there are so many difficulties here, yet there must also be something to learn.” The drum maker slowly took the drum apart. Even though every step was a challenge she refused to let go of the project. Nails were remade, wood was reshaped, and brass was straightened and cleaned.
As the frame neared completion, the drum maker received a call from a friend. “A yearling deer has died. I found its arched body trapped in my shed. Would you like to come and take the skin?” The drum maker had never skinned a deer before. There were many difficulties, but she refused to let go because there was also something to learn.
The hide was very fragile but at last the drum maker reassembled the drum with its new skin. The wood gleamed with coats of fine oil. The brass shone like firelight. The transformation was complete.
Years later the old woman called. The drum maker felt a blood rush at the sound of her voice. “Yes. I have finished it,” she said, “but I am refusing to let go. I know I am making difficulties here, but there is still something to learn.”
I am certain that beneath the adventure tour packages and artificial lava rock waterfalls, there is great damage and perserverance in this place. Most of my efforts to maintain my spiritual practice while traveling were feeling strained and false, until yesterday I tried whistling back to a bird. I could not see it in the dense tropical foliage, but in response to its cascading melody I whistled back the greeting I exchange with my cockatiel. There was a pause, and then a shorter bird call that felt full of curiosity. I whistled a longer series and to my delight and humbling surprise, the bird copied part of it. I in turn tried to copy its call. We whistled back and forth until my unskilled mouth was no longer able to keep the tone clear and strong. As I turned away I was dismayed to hear the bird continuing to speak, wanting to maintain contact. I realized that I did not know the whistle for "goodbye and every blessing to you for being willing to speak with me."
But I am refusing to let go. I will probably make difficulty for the birds who a willing to join into a conversation with me and then are disappointed at my lack of manners, but there is lots for me to learn in this, and so for these two weeks I will maintain my spiritual practice by asking the birds to talk to me, and hopefully learning the songs of Aloha and Mahalo.
