The rain came, paying attention, collecting 'ike

We lived for a time on land the Coast Salish People called "The Prairie Front." One of Otis's wheels was tucked into a shallow hole Pete dug in the ground to level out the wagon because we were on a slope.  We learned to be with this place. A Port Orford Cedar gave us partial protection from the North Wind, and was the first of the Plant People we asked for permission when we sought a home-for-awhile.

While we lived with that Cedar and the land and Beings of the Prairie Front we began setting out bowls and trays to collect rain water. It was a place of big sky and, especially in the winter, we experienced how Ua ka lani (the Rains) did truly bring life.

While we lived with the Cedar, the Sky, Winds, Stars, Moon, Sun and Rains we paid attention.

 “Know the ways of the ones who take care of you, so that you may take care of them.Introduce yourself. Be accountable as the one who comes asking for life. Ask permission before taking. Abide by the answer. Give thanks for what you have been given. Give a gift, in reciprocity for what you have taken. Sustain the ones who sustain you and the earth will last forever.”- Robin Wall Kimmerer

According to our kilo kumu, Kalei Nu'uhiwa, when the skies are bright with reds and orange, at sunrise or sunset, big weather is coming soon. Kilo is the practice of paying attention. We've been growing our kilo practice, as part of our Safety Pin Life, and the key word here? Practice. Over time we pay attention to what we see, notice what we smell, and watch what the others who live here are doing.

I took the photo of the sky above one winter morning when we lived on the Prairie Front. The photo below is our water catcher, frozen on one of those winter mornings.

Our time there filled with experiences from the full spectrum of being alive: amazed when we were greeted with Coyote serenades outside our window, delighted to share time and place with our son when he visited, disappointed when our dreams for community weren't shared.

 Last night the rain came. Pete was prepared, he set water buckets and an empty cooler under the eaves, and in the morning when I woke the rain had added to the water already contained. In my excitement I thought the row of buckets had filled with last night's rainwater. I assumed.

While I write now, I've been corrected. Most of the water in the buckets is city water 'off-gassing' of its chemicals. The cooler, a few inches deep is fresh rainwater, and one other bucket is rainwater. My excitement fueled an assumption. The assumption wasn't checked.

"Guess I have to ask you more questions before I jump (to conclusions.)," I admitted to Pete. There's a lesson for me. I'm still practicing, and making mistakes is part of the collection action. In the Hawaiian language the word 'ike means knowledge. Knowledge is raw info. First hand experience. A paragraph out of a book. A post on a blog. The latest notification on your iphone.

There's a difference between 'ike and understanding, or maopopo pono. A kahuna (one who knows the secrets and their answers) in training has collected many buckets of water over time. The everyday activity of everybody learning to pay attention starts by asking for permission ... before taking.There's no guarantees the discovery, assumption, bright bucket of water is mine. 'Question for clarity' is one of the tools of the makua o'o. And if the answer is yes? Say, "Thank you" every time. These posts, these safety-pins of words are my gifts for what I've taken.

Thank you Jose Feliciano. This is one of those songs I've loved for a long, long time. Are there songs that you have loved for a long, long time? And, what of the dreams that are not yours, any longer?

Ola Kakou,
Mokihana

RELATED POSTS & Links:
"A World of Otis ..."
"Holding dreams worth living"
GO TO THE HOMEPAGE and find the safety pin posts already fastened