HAWAIIAN ODYSSEUS--THE WILL TO WRITE

Hanalei River
(Photo courtesy of Ryan)

In Greek mythology, the epic tale of Odysseus involved, in the aftermath of the ten-year war depicted in Homer's The Iliad, a return trip home to the protagnist's castle and queen that was fraught with tremendous adversity, challenges, and temptation-laden distractions.


This blog is a humble and light-hearted (albeit bittersweet) attempt to chronicle a similar trek home following decades of errant choices and behaviors.  The war Hawaiian Odysseus wages has more to do with inner conflicts.  It is not directly spoken of or even alluded to in his writings.  Nevertheless, the intuitive reader may at times sense the tone of sadness and loss that are interwoven within the thematic fabric of each post.


Not unlike the manner in which an oyster produces pearlescent beauty  as a result of struggling against an internal irritant, Hawaiian Odysseus discovers that there is redemption and grace in the cathartic  experience of writing one's truth.


Perhaps the best that can be expected and--yes--even hoped for is that there is triumph in the journey itself...that the mere ability to pick oneself up just one more time than one has fallen is evidence enough of the undeniable spirit of man.

Travels with Odysseus: Uncommon Wisdom from Homer's Odyssey

Three Simple Truths and Six Essential Traits for Powerful Writing: Book One - Novice

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RYAN'S MINISTRY OF MUSIC

You just knew it was going to be a good day whenever he sang in the shower.

As he was growing up, from the time he was old enough to take a shower on his own, he was singing. 

Contemporary ballads, light rock, classic Christian hymns, contemporary Christian, top 10.

If he heard a song he liked, he learned how to sing it almost immediately. 

That crystal talent extended itself to his attempts at playing instruments--alto sax, piano, guitar.  He would hear a song he liked, memorize the exact key, find a single resonating chord, and then painstakingly search for accompanying chords until, amazingly, he could recreate the song at will.

He was our son, and so we took much of that observable behavior for granted. 

In retrospect, his efforts bordered on musical genius.

But he never flaunted his talent.  On the contrary, he would often thank God for the special gift.  Mother would frequently tell him to not put a bushel over his talents.  She encouraged him, instead, to find a way to give back.

In high school and later at the university, he formed Christian groups that witnessed by way of music to hundreds, maybe thousands, of students, faculty and administration, families, and friends.  He and his group may very well have been instrumental in restoring wayward hearts to Christ.

We won't know this side of heaven what impact our actions may have had on others.  The chronicling nevertheless goes on...

There were times he admittedly didn't understand why he had such a passion for music.  There were even times when he honestly felt burnt out on the whole scene.

Still, he had this compulsion.  Like there was a personal guardian angel playing on his harp and puppeteering my son to make music.

I've not always been a good example to him.  In fact, there were many times when I loused the whole fatherly example-setting responsibility up.

Still, I've had my moments.  And like a son who refuses to give up until he masters the song, this stubborn fool refuses to give up until he masters the fathering. 

Because, the truth be told, my heart has been touched and mended and shown the way home via Ryan's ministry of music.

Like I said, I've had my moments.  The writing of this post is one of them.

God bless you, Ryan.  May you have thousands of days on this earth and thousands of years in eternity of singing in the shower.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evhYfUruuAE

(Clicking on the above link will provide you with access to eleven Five on Fire live contemporary Christian music video performances at Walla Walla University.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTFQhZ4poiI

(Clicking on the above link will provide you with access to four live secular music video performances at Walla Walla University.)

Beautiful Worship

Worship - The Fish Series - The Best of Contemporary Christian Music - Piano/Vocal/Guitar Songbook

9

Jasmine by Takamine S35 Acoustic Guitar, Natural

ULUA AND OMILU--FISH TALES FROM KAUAI

Our guest blogger today is my brother, Charlie, all the way from the island of Kauai.  This is his very first attempt at blogging, and I think he did a standup job.  Way to go, Charlie!

(Photo courtesy of Charlie A.)

Joe, the picture says 40+.  Actual weight  is 41.5 lb. white ulua caught at Kahalani Beach, Wailua, Kauai.


The next picture with Ryan and Kai is of a 8.25# bluefin trevally.  Hawaiians call it omilu (papio, under 10#).  Aliomanu Beach, Anahola, Kauai.  Both fish were caught with tako (octopus) arm.

(Photo courtesy of Charlie A.) 

That's my nephew, Kai (brother Gerald's son), on the left, and my son, Ryan, on the right.)

I have a story about this fishing trip.  It started out being a picture perfect day.  My sister-in-law and my niece and nephew were visiting from the state of Washington.  Brother Gerald planned an outing down at the beach.  Mom and I, along with Gerald's family, chose Aliomanu as our destination. 

I can remember this day like it was yesterday. 

I rigged up my brand new Kelstar blank ulua pole with an extended 4/0 Penn reel.  Only a month of training on how to cast a conventional reel added some pressure when casting in front of the whole family.  If you're familiar with conventional reels, if you don't cast it correctly, you can mess up the line badly in the spool (it's called a bird's nest).  What happens is that the line comes out of the spool too fast and it bunches up, making all kinds of knots in the spool (a headache to untangle), and instead of getting a cast of 20 yards or more,  you end up with  5 feet or less. 

As I made my cast, I looked back, and everyone was watching as I made one of the biggest bird's nests of my life.  The lead and tako arm landed less than 10 feet in front of me.  It was one of the most embarrassing moments of fishing I have ever experienced. 

So, there I was, standing on the rocks trying so desperately to untangle my huge bird's nest so I can make up for that horrible cast. 

When I untangled the last knot,  the line was so bad it broke. 

As I was looking into the water where the bait landed, I saw this fluorescent blue.  I looked again and I couldn't believe my eyes--the omilu papio was eating the tako arm! 

Quickly, I made a blood knot.  As soon as I had completed the knot, the fish took off!  I was in disbelief, screaming for Gerald to get the gaff. 

As the fish made a run towards the shore, Gerald gaffed it and the rest was history.

Wow!  And the fascinating thing about this fish tale is that it's true.  The bird's nest catch was Charlie's first success at fishing for papio.  The top photo is a reflection of how much progress he eventually made, and continues to make, fishing for giant trevally, or ULUA (ooh-LOO-ah).  Thanks, Charlie!  Looking forward to future posts from you.

MIME MINISTRY OF LITHE AND LOVELY AMBER

When my 18-year-old daughter was a little girl, she would occasionally announce to her mother, brother, and me that she and the neighbor girl were soon to be performing their latest dance routine.  We were encouraged to be on time and comfortably seated on our lawn chairs as soon as possible. 

The stage?  Our family trampoline in the backyard.

We would arrive just minutes ahead of Alicia's grandparents, our landlord neighbors.  Sometimes, a neighborhood kid or two would also be part of the sitting on the grass only audience.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, we were mesmerized by the surprisingly gifted choreography that both little girls had prepared for us.  Part exercise protocol, part cheerleading, part acrobatics, and part dance, their well-practiced, very creative, and wonderfully in sync routine provided us with engaging entertainment that would not soon be forgotten. 

A rousing ovation sprinkled with cheers of delight would follow their wonderful performance.

It wasn't So You Think You Can Dance. 

It was definitely better!

This proud daddy marveled at the miracle God had packaged up, pretty in pink, beautiful like her mom but also unique in her own right.  Like having so much familiarity and so much otherworldly stranger all mixed into one. 

And I was blessed and spoiled to be my little girl's biggest hero!

Those days don't last forever.  I wish a future me could have lovingly warned me that little girls grow up all too quickly...and that in the rock and roll upheaval known as adolescence, the staunchest of heros can sometimes be zeros.

Until a moment arrives when all the gifts of those little girl memories come rushing back in full fruition...

Case in point:  This wonderful video of her ministry at her high school.  She is the choreographer as well as the principal performer.

What you see is the recently emerged young adult.

What I see, indelibly inscribed in my heart, is a little girl dancing on a trampoline.

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1613231843856#!/video/video.php?v=1613231843856&subj=1163173703

UHU--SANDMAN OF THE SEA

UHU AND WEKE

ON A BED OF TEN HE'E

(Photo courtesy of Silas Kaumakahia Aqui)

Once again, I am beholding to my brother, Charlie, for sending me a couple of pictures that feature his favorite sea catch--octopus--but also piqued my curiosity about the UHU (pronounced OOH-hoo), or parrotfish, the top fish in the  photo above.  (By the way, the octopi and fish were photographed in the kitchen sink.)

The one thing I've always known about the uhu is that it is a delicious fish.  My mom made a wonderful soup with it.  We also ate it raw, chopped up and marinated with chili peppers, salt, and seaweed, a concoction known as poki to the locals.


But what's fascinating are the things I learned about it just today after doing some casual research.


The uhu I remember seeing in my youth were approximately 10 to 12 inches in length.  But a lot of these reef fish can grow to three feet in length.  Amazingly, there is a South Pacific species of parrotfish that measure up to six feet.


The uhu in the photo is most likely an adolescent.  As it matures, it metamorphosizes into a beautiful aquamarine-hued fish.  Adorned in magnificent greens and blues, the uhu is easily one of the more striking inhabitants of the coral reef.


While primarily a herbivore, the uhu's parrot-like fused teeth are used like a rasp to scrape and ingest morsels of living coral.  A collection of plates in its throat--pharyngeal teeth--grind the coral into microscopic pieces, later eliminated as a fine powder by the uhu.  True to the natural order of balance in an ecosystem, the uhu is thus an important reef eroder as well as a significant producer of sand.  In fact, it is estimated that a large uhu can, in its lifetime, create a ton of sand.


My father, brothers, and I employed a form of fishing known as torching.  Equipped with a Coleman lantern seated on a wooden platform which we wore on our chests, and armed with trident spears, we would walk the reefs at night and spear several species of fish from above. 


The uhu is a diurnal (active during the daytime) creature and sleeps at night.  It secretes a mucousy substance that envelops it like a coccoon.  Some scientists believe that this chemical masks its scent and thus protects it from night predators.  Other researchers posit that this mucous serves as an anti-parasitic agent, thus protecting the uhu in a different kind of way. 


As brilliantly colored as this fish is, the mucous could not protect it from us diligent reef fishermen.

TRANSITIONS

It is a quarter of five on this very chilly autumn day, and I am writing this while enjoying a Starbucks venti mocha, seated comfortably on a brand new coffee-colored sofa. This particular Starbucks kiosk is located in the recently renovated Safeway grocery store at the corner of Martin Luther King Avenue and Othello Street in the Rainier Valley of southeast Seattle.

I am dressed appropriately for the evening, warm in my black sweater with the white artificial fur collar. My long-sleeved Hawaiian Fire shirt, a gift from my son, Richie, who lives in Honolulu, overtly hints at my ethnicity.

The Rainier Valley has a large black and Asian population. With the introduction of a Sound Transit Link light rail and attractive pastel-colored townhouses, the area is gradually undergoing a gentrification as droves of upper middle class white Seattleites, disgruntled with the traffic jams, sirens, increasingly expensive urban parking, and burgeoning homeless population migrate to this area.

Having lived in this community for the last year and a half, I have come to love and appreciate the ebb and flow of its heartbeat. Like me, it struggles with atrial fibrillation. This traditionally high crime area has slowed down somewhat, but every now and then, there is a major hiccup. Fairly or unfairly, depending on one's perspective and blogging persuasion, the area is still generally perceived by Washingtonians as the least ideal place to live. On a weekly basis, one still reads or hears about the latest shooting, stabbing, or robbery. But even with the mostly gang-related and domestic violence incidents, from an inside looking out point of view, there has been a noticeable settling from the historical unease and restlessness that once pervaded this valley like a dense fog that refuses to move on.

I like to think of it as an inevitable rite of passage...a weariness, as it were, of all that is funky and irrational and just plain stupid. It's a phenomenon not unlike the similar experience of the old cons in prison--the penal dinosaurs, as they're referred to with great deference from the general population as well as prison staff. You hear the legends and the layer upon layer of exaggerated feats of daring, but you miss in the here and now the overwhelming exhaustion that overcomes those who, for decades, chose to live against society's grain. If it's true that the universe will continue to bring back the same lesson until one finally gets it, then we're talking about a very patient universe and a very stubborn and/or ignorant recipient. Until one day when that person wakes up and realizes just how tired he is of resisting...and finds some comfort in the relief of letting go and simply being.

A parallel maturing experience is going on in the Rainier Valley. As a private citizen, I feel safer. As a writer, I am passionate about observing firsthand and recording my observations. As a resident, I am very proud of my neighbors and their collective efforts to ensure that this valley is all about reinforcing the true and compassionate ideals of family and home.

It's now a quarter of six, and with this past Sunday's advent of daylight savings time accentuating the effect, it is already very dark outside. I have about a three-quarters of a mile walk back to the house, but a year and a half after having moved into this neighborhood, I walk with greater confidence that I will arrive home safely.

The universe, you see, has more final exams in store for me.


                           
                                        

                                                                                             

MY BROTHER, CHARLIE, AN EXCELLENT OCTOPUS HUNTER



Charlie A. with 9.5 lb Prize Catch
(photo courtesy of  SKA)



Hey, folks, today I want to feature my brother, Charlie, ten years my junior. When he was a young boy, he showed no interest whatsoever in anything Hawaiiana--no fishing, no eating of local food, a complete lack of participation in the island culture. He was so anti-native that we used to mercilessly tease him about being haole and, as if that wasn't cruel enough, added that he had been left on our front doorstep when he was just an infant. Flash forward 3+ decades and--surprise, surprise!--Charlie has emerged among us four brothers as the premiere Hawaiian fisherman and follower of the ancient customs. Speaking for myself, he sure put me to shame!

Anyway, I am so proud of his transformation into a genuinely appreciative and respectful kanaka.

One of Charlie's talents is his keen eye for concealed octopi. The tentacled sea creatures are adept at camouflaging themselves according to their natural environment. Still, there are certain hints that the trained octopus hunter's eye picks up...for example, the octopus habitually creates a ring of coral pieces that serve as its portal gateway. The neat arrangement of coral stands out as a dead giveaway to the veteran octopus hunter.

In the islands, octopus is usually referred to by its Japanese name--TAKO. A surprisingly tasty delicacy, tako eaten raw in a special miso (soy-based) sauce is an island favorite. Most islanders boil the tako. It can also be dried and eaten as a jerky.

The Hawaiian name for octopus--and I just learned this two weeks ago--is HE'E.

This, then, is my tribute to my 48-year-old little brother, Charlie, with his prize 9-1/2 lb. he'e.