The Legend of Pohaku-o-Kane

                                    The Legend of Pohaku-o-Kane

      Long before humans discovered Kaua’i, a family of three huge rocks, two brothers and a sister, were seeking a new home.  They rolled across the ocean floor, visiting several islands and atolls before finally arriving at the north shore of Kaua’i.  

As they approached the shore, they were refreshed by the fresh water of the Limahuli Stream.  Breaking the surface, they saw that they were on a reef surrounded by fish.  The collors of the land, ocean, sky, and clouds delighted them.

O’o-a’a, the sister, was enchanted by this spot and decided to stay.  Basking in the warm sun and lulled by the sound of the waves, she soon feel asleep.  The brothers, wanting to go inland, rolled onto the sandy beach.  After a while, the younger brother, Pohaku-loa, stopped to rest in the shade of hala trees.  Enjoying the rustling leaves and cool breeze, he decided to stay.  Although his younger brother pleaded with him to continue up the mountain, Pohaku-loa fell asleep content.

The older brother continued alone, intending to climb to the top of the mountain.  When he reached the pali (cliff), his strength and determination were not enough.  He faltered and fell.  Again and again, he tried to reach the top, refusing to give up.  Eventually, the great god Kane noticed his struggling so hard and went to investigate.  He asked the rock why he was struggling to hard to reach the top.  The rock replied, “I want to be where I can watch the world below.”

Kane pointed out that it didn’t matter where the older brother was, for he would surely fall asleep as his brother and sister had.  The older brother insisted that he would remain awake.  Kane decided that this determined rock would never give up, that he would continue to climb and fall until all that remained of him was dust.  So Kane and the rock made a deal.

 Kane lifted the older brother and placed him on the top of the mountain ridge.  In return, the rock promised to stay awake and watch and remember all that went on below him.  

Then, Kane said, “When I come again, you must come tell me what you have seen.  When you are ready to go, the island will sink beneath the waters and the waves will climb upto you.  Then you and your brother and sister may begin to travel again.  Until then, watch and remember.”

---Limahuli Garden National Tropical Botanical Garden guidebook, Ha-ena, Kaua’i, Hawai’i,  p. 39

Wham!

Wham!

A bolt of lightning

a slap up the side of my face

out of the blue

in the midst of driving home

why now? what the f***, I wondered--

and I cried

gasping for breath

grief

going deep

coming out strong

all the anger, rage, emptiness, 

all at once, all over, to the 

core--

missing him so intense

I could not breathe

the agony of knowing, really 

knowing

he was gone

and how much I 

missed him.

The tear came later, running wild, splashing on my shirt,

after I caught my breath

after I figured out

I was grieving hard

and not trying to notice

thinking I’d done pretty good

at “moving on” 

at “dealing with it”

at being a big boy and 

thinking I’d been grieving well,

in that adult

rational 

sensible

way we are “supposed to”.

Orderly, neat, tidy,

like a package ready for the mail.

Ha.

Yet, no one grieves “well”--

we grieve

in all its forms and all its ways

twists and turns and worm holes

Until it hits like a ton of bricks

when you 

least

expect it.

--Neal Lemery 12/31/11

The Line at the Village Post Office

One last package.  There’s always one, one that doesn’t make it on the list I’d been keeping, or the gift getting sidetracked on the floor next to the pile of wrapping paper, labels and bows on the dining room table.  The room had taken on its annual pre-Christmas chaos.  Christmas music was playing on the stereo as I finally got the present wrapped and in a box.  I was in the height of my pre-Christmas frenzy.

I rushed into town, my “town list” of errands in hand.  The parking lot at the post office is well-filled with cars and trucks, and the line inside doesn’t disappoint my expectations of the last minute rush.  I just wanted to get my errands finished in town and get home, to yet more errands.  Not very Christmasy, but the week had been filled with work and errands and the project list that never seemed to end.  

“Ho, ho, ho, and merry Christmas,” wasn’t what I was saying as I darted through the traffic and into the post office scene.

On my way to the door, a man stopped to wish me a Merry Christmas and tell me about the joys of being a grandparent.  I stopped to enjoy the tale, and the big smile on his face.  His big smile made me remember my family, and the memories of Christmases gone by.

I stuffed the last of my outgoing Christmas cards in the mail slot and rushed to take my place at the end of the line.  

“Drat,” I said to myself, seeing that the line of customers was long and there was only one clerk.  “I’ll be here forever.”

Impatiently, I settled in for the long wait, and noticed a guy I hadn’t seen for a while.  He was a good friend, and we caught up on our news, and his daughter’s adventures.  

A mom with two toddlers was trying to mail a package overseas, and had to keep coming back to the counter with the customs declaration, not quite completed according to government requirements.  The mom and the clerk kept talking, and we soon learned the package was for her grandma, clothing and food, and a last minute Christmas present the kids had made.  The toddlers were patient, but starting to fuss a bit.  Finally, the clerk stamped the package and the paperwork, and gave each kid a Santa’s Helper stamp to wear on their coats.  Their gleeful shrieks brought chuckles and laughter to the line of now patient and happy customers.  

The lady ahead of me talked about thinking she was done with packages and mailing, then found the bowl of cookie dough in the fridge she had mixed up the day before.  The package in her hands were the results of that discovery, home baked cookies for her son and grandchildren in Seattle.  

The man behind me tapped me on the shoulder.  

“Long time, no see,” he said, his face unfamiliar to me, until he said his name.  We were high school classmates and hadn’t seen each other for forty years.

He was living here now, taking care of his aging mother, moving back from New York City.  We laughed about our gray hair and looking just a bit different that we had our senior year in high school.  We’re going to meet for lunch in a few weeks, and catch up with our lives.

The man behind him had been my mother’s neighbor, and another man had been the family grocer for many years.   Old memories were shared and smiles broadened on faces at the talk of good times and seeing old friends. Soon, the room was abuzz with handshakes and laughter and warm conversations.

The long line seemed shorter now, now that everyone was visiting and talking about what they were mailing and what their plans were for Christmas.  

When it was finally my turn with the harried clerk, she greeted me warmly by name, and flashed her smile.  Her sister was coming tonight, and she was eager to get home.  Overwhelmed by the long line, she took the time with every customer, tending to their needs, and wishing each a merry Christmas.  A Christmas angel, I thought.  And, an angel I had needed to see.

I almost hated to leave then, my business complete, the long list of “town errands” done.  I’d gotten a lot more out of my last chore on the list than I’d expected.  The line of folks waiting for the one clerk was still nearly out the door, but the room was filled with laughter and visiting, and the spirit of Christmas.

--Neal Lemery

12/24/2011

Making A Difference

I always wonder if what I am doing makes a difference with someone. I talk with a lot of people, and work at being a problem solver, and, often, a mediator and decision maker.

My ears tend to focus on the negative reactions to our encounter, the anger, the frustration, the rage of the problem, their circumstances, maybe just life in general.

Yet, my spirit is drawn to listen with a deeper ear, listening for the connections we make, the compassion, the empathy, and the deep, heart to heart communication. My monkey brain, the continual analyzer and noise maker, tries to filter out this deeper conversation, this richer communication, and instead thrive on conflict and drama. Struggle and waging war with each other, and being loud and strident, those are the ideals of the monkey brain.

If I calm myself, and get in touch with my soul’s energies and voice, and go deeper into the experiences I am having with others, and with myself, then the real work, the real accomplishments are revealed. I become whole, and I am able to soar above the turmoil and conflict of the moment, and really see what is going on.

I hope that in much of our connections with each other, we want true understanding, true exchanges of information, viewpoints, emotions. In that work, something more than each of us is nourished, and that experience, that new wisdom and compassion and understanding begins to grow.

Last week, I had a good conversation with a young man striving to move ahead. The social and family obstacles he faces are enormous. His self esteem has been battered by the hurricanes that periodically sweep through his young life. Yet, from that conversation, he writes that he feels loved, he feels strong, and he believes in himself. He is ready to move ahead. He says I had a lot to do with how he now feels about himself.

Another young man tells me he is a failure, inept at whatever he sets out to do. Yet when I tell him he’s a good writer, an amazing artist, and, deep inside, a beautiful and loving man, he tears up. His eyes tell me he is really listening to me, in that deep, soul nourishing way that we all seem not to do very much. Our souls connect, and we both could feel that. When another person affirms my message, he nods in understanding. He left our encounter shoulders back, head held high, and the start of a smile spreading across his face.

I don’t know how my vineyard is growing. I sometimes till the soil, and plant a few new seedlings, or prune back a vine here and there. Sometimes I fertilize and water, but it’s pretty hit and miss. At least, my monkey mind analyzes it that way. Yet, the vines leaf out in the springtime, flowers do bloom, and the fruit on the vine often turns into sweetness in the sunshine of unconditional love.

I keep reminding myself that all things are possible, and I will never know all the fruits of my labors in the vineyard of life.

-Neal Lemery 11/13/2011

Change Comes From Within

What is needed to change? To change the world, and, perhaps more fundamentally, change myself?

I am a practitioner of conflict resolution. I arbitrate, adjudicate, mediate, nourish, mentor, and heal. Yet, how can I do this work better, more effectively?

This past week, I attended the Oregon Mediation Association conference. We examined courageous questions and our own abilities and needs to find peace in ourselves, so that we could foster peace in others. I was led to challenge myself, my beliefs, my “state of mind”, and the true nature of my work with others in conflict.

“With mindful awareness, the flow of energy and information that is our mind enters our conscious attention, and we can both appreciate its contents and also come to regulate its flow in a new way.”
--Daniel Siegel

“Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”
--Victor Frankl

If you want to change the system you are part of, all you have to do is change you.

I sometimes create my own demise.

Choosing what we do takes us out of our victim role.

“If you don’t know what you don’t know, how to you know what you want?”
-- Steve Jobs

If you don’t know what something will be in the future, how do you now know you don’t want it or don’t need it. So, build it, make it, and then it will be useful.

If I want to change the result, I really need to dig deep inside of me and examine my belief system.

My belief system triggers

my thoughts, which triggers

my emotions, which then triggers

my actions.

Real, fundamental change requires that I examine and change my belief system.

In all of this, I am in charge. Oh, I respond to my learned belief and behavioral systems, from childhood on up to today. But, I do get to decide how I believe, how I think, what emotions I am going to experience, and, ultimately, my actions. This isn’t easy work, but it is work I am capable of doing and work I can accomplish. I have to decide, fundamentally, if I want to do this work. But, I am in charge.

And, if I change myself, then I also change my environment, and thus I change my surroundings, the people I interact with.

If I come into my work filled with peace, I will have a different impact on others than if I come into my work filled with anxiety, or hatred, or other conflict-enhancing energy. Who I am, deep inside, has a direct and immediate impact on others, and on our relationships.

If change is needed, let it begin with me.

Neal Lemery, 11/6/2011

On The Edge

The slow hint of the new dawn competes with the setting harvest moon
fog light softens the edge of earth and sky--
I walk the middle place, not in either place,
only my steady breath a blessing
between the layers, between the night and the new day
the enigma
vaguely familiar.

--Neal Lemery 10/16/11

The Old Tree

As the tree grew, the new leaves in spring brought us hope. Its leafy branches in summer brought us its cool shade, a place to talk in the heat of the afternoon, as we sipped ice tea and lazed in the hot days. In the fall, its colorful leaves reminded us of the cycle of life and brought more beauty to our lives. When winter came, the bare limbs provided rough bark support for the flakes of sparkling snow on crisp days.

Over the years, the tree grew big and strong, and we took its presence in the yard for granted. Kids played noisily under its branches, and brought their friends. All too soon, they grew up and moved away. As the years passed, they’d come back, spouses and kids in tow, and children’s laughter was again heard under its spreading limbs.

As with us all, the tree grew old, losing a bit of its strength. One bitter day, a big storm cracked its trunk clear to the ground, and it was time to cut it down. Suddenly, that space in the yard no longer was filled with summer shade, or the maze of limbs sprinkled with the spring green of new leaves, or the orange and red fire of autumn.

Its thick trunk and fat limbs soon turned into a big pile of firewood, that warmed me as I split and stacked the seasoned hard wood. We were warmed again as the stove crackled and popped, during the depths of many a winter gale and early mornings, when my breath would turn white as I stood near the snowy flat top of the stump, my eye still seeing its tall, proud form.

I sat by the stump of the old tree one spring day, a new sapling in my hand, ready to plant. We needed a new tree there, in that corner of the yard, for the summer shade, and the colorful leaves in the fall, a place where kids could play and laugh. The yard seemed empty without a tree, in all its growing, in its presence in our lives.

Like many things in life, we didn’t really see the tree until it was gone, its silent place in our lives now missed, like the sound of children’s laughter after they’re grown.

I noticed the rings in the wood of the old tree stump. In counting the rings, I could tell its age, and remembered the events of our lives. And, in the counting, I saw that the big growth in the tree was in the spring and summer, when sun and warmth and water were plentiful. The thin, hard wood of the tree, its real strength, had come in the seeming deadness of the winter, when the storms and snows and freezing nights raged, when all seemed silent and lost.

As with new saplings and old wood, strength comes both in the flexibility of new growth, and the storm tested wood added in the height of a dark, cold winter.

8/29/2011