I sat for a few days, thinking about blogging, but choosing not to, because I'm still searching for WHAT I want to express, to WHOM I am expressing, WHY I want to write about a chosen topic, and HOW I want to come across. As a freelance journalist, I have always strived to create the perfect article or story, in an interesting, witty, yet brief, manner. But you know what? This is MY blog, and I can write whatever I want! I am my own editor!! I can make as many speling misstakes and use as much ungood grammar as I want to! Ha!
But, the perfectionist in me won't really allow that, so enjoy that last bit while you can. I have just decided that I won't have a blog theme (ie. daily workout logs or videos; training-only; personal stories, whatever). Instead, I will just write what I feel that day. Maybe I'll reveal bits about my life; somedays I'll focus on training; perhaps I'll have a motivational story to share.
Today I'll just share my passion for hula. Polynesian dance, not the plastic hoops. I took it up January 2005, after a soul-searching solo trip to Maui the week before Christmas 2004. It had been a tough year and a half; the worst, actually, because July 2, 2003 was the day I lost my mother to cancer. I hated being vulnerable to my emotions, I hated that I NEEDED my mom and she was never going to be there again, and I HATED that I didn't have the answer to how to stop the ache in my heart. But I did know that I needed to get away, so I went to Maui, Hawaii.
Hawaii has always been a special place for my family. From when I was only 2 years old until 12, we went every year for two weeks – a week in Oahu, and a week in Maui. My mom absolutely LOVED Hawaii. The tropical heat. The flowers, especially tuberose and gardenia. The Society of Seven, Blue Hawaii, and The Hawaiian Wedding Song. And she loved watching hula. Those glamorous girls in the grass skirts and colourful muu'muus! The graceful hands and swaying hips! The hauntingly beautiful music and song. It was something she had always wanted to learn, but never did because she was self-conscious about being overweight after she had kids. I'm sorry we never got a chance to learn it together.
I never found, nor find, solace in the cemetary where she is buried. I just don't feel the connection, neither earthly nor spiritual. So I thought I'd see if Hawaii had a healing power of its own. I had a wonderful time on my solo vacation; I did what I wanted, when I wanted, where I wanted. Wake up at 3am to drive to the top of a volcano (Haleakala) to see sunrise at 10,000 feet? It was worth it, even if it meant I had to pack my winter jacket just for a few short hours.
I was also mesmerized by the rolling waves at Big Beach, Makena. It was such a perfect day, with sun, beach, and waves. The power of the ocean, the salty smell, the cooling breeze and misty spray, the smooth grains of perfect sand, the surfers and boarders with not a care in the world. Could it get any better? It didn't matter to the ocean that I had lost my mother; it kept going on, wave after wave. And then, I knew I had to as well. Life, like the ocean, goes on, and so must I.A "traditional" Hawaiian luau gave me the dance bug. The incredible Polynesian dance performances made me want to BE a dancer, not just watch. So I decided then that I would learn to dance hula, in memory of my mother. It would be my therapy, and my connection to my mom. So when I returned to Vancouver, I looked up a local hula halau (school), and found a studio – Paul Latta Dancers & Co. I signed up for a beginner class, and have been with him ever since. Kumu (teacher) Paul is absolutely passionate about the art of Polynesian dancing, and his knowledge and respect for the culture is unmatched. I am honoured to be his haumana (student) and because of his teachings, I was able to to return to Maui in Dec 2007 and Feb 2008 and take some unforgettable photos with reknowned Maui photographer, Randy Jay Braun.
This is one of my favourites; I am eternally grateful for the opportunity to work with such an incredibly talented artist, as well as the continuous teachings from my Kumu hula. I look forward to many more years of learning the art of hula, as well as the life lessons dancing has taught me.
I've learned that the ache in my heart from missing my mom will never go away. But I have found that for me, dance is a way of expressing myself, and focusing on the beauty of this art brings with it the ability to cope with my grief.
This dance is for you, Mom. Mahalo nui loa; aloha wau ia 'oe.
