It's been a while since i was here last. and since then, a zillion things have happened. i took students to kahoolawe, for one. that was a life-changing event for many of them, and certainly for myself, as well. i learned things about how the pko trips are organized. i also learned that it's not always a good idea to offer constructive criticism (another way of making "recommendations", but phrased more positively). i learned, most of all, what it means to some to 'own' a piece of history and struggle. this was a message for me, personally. so now i'm thiking about what it means to me to be a person in struggle, trying to follow the example of those who came before me, like the queen, and poka, and soli, and dallas vogeler. being in struggle is not just about social justice, but also about how to live one's life, and how to stay in the good fight while still trying to pay rent, and eat, and deal with debilitating health issues, not to mention old age. being in struggle is having to put up with stupidity from those around you, even those who say they love and support you. sometimes that love and support only go as far as people are able to align with your philosphy or your values. i imagine that's what separates the spectators from the allies. those who keep their distance appreciate that you do what you do, but it really has nothing to do with them. they have nothing to add, will never participate, think it's all interesting, but are too busy to contribute to the cause. the others, people like me, for example, try to show up, schlep stuff around, pay for supplies out of their own pocket, stay up late at night sending email testimonies to legislators who act in their own self-interest, volunteer for everything, take flack from non-believers, hold signs that generate jeers and negative responses (but not yet thrown tomatoes!). it's hard work.
i am grateful for those who do anything at all to signal support, from the smallest word of kindness for our work in the cause of independence, to sharing photos of an event; from helping us set up a performance of ka lei maile alii -- the queen's women, to being willing to loan us a flag for back drop; from individual sign holders at a 'fake state' demo, to videographers who post our actions on youtube. it's a kakou thang. we can't do it alone.
this brings me back to kahoolawe and what i learned there. i learned i needed help. that's something i've not wanted to acknowledge for a long, long time. i needed help. and our little group of 10 helped each other out. but mostly they helped me. i was reminded that i'm a bit too old to be traipsing around in the bush doing extreme camping. i had so much help, i began turning into a lazy person. i didn't do the 8 hour hike on the day before we left. instead, i sent my hookupu with a student, not thinking really about what that would mean to my student. i did other things, easy things, like making pili bundles. and carrying rocks from the beach for the floor of the hale. i took my time. i acted like the old person i am. yikes! realization had set in that i was slowing down. and then a second realization that it was okay to slow down.
life as an activist is crazy. knowing the right thing to do, trying to keep one's spiritual life in order (he pono no), remembering that there is also family waiting out there in the wings for some attention, dodging the 'slings and arrows' of critics who know everything and hate you for not doing what they want you to do, being happy in the flow when the feeling of rightness, of doing the right thing, settles over the work. it's crazy, alright. but it's also happy-making hard work, when it pans out. and if it's done right, it pans out more times than not. kahoolawe was the biggest challenge for me personally than anything else i can remember. i made new friends and new family. i think i alienated some other folks, too. the place did not benefit from my presence as much as i had hoped it would. i didn't know what to do, but when i did know, i felt constricted--i couldn't do it without proper protocols, and i didn't know what those protocols were. but ultimately, it was probably the best experience of my life. i learned that kimo mithell and george helm hang out near the plaques in the stones, and they had much to say to the folks who passed by. i learned that women need to spend some time by themselves on an island that had become too masculine and male-dominated; and men, too, need to spend time alone to talk about whatever men talk about. the women had no problem articulating their own challenges. i learned that 'interdependency' was that thing that helped us through some rough situations, in the sea and on the land. and penultimately, i learned that everybody missed me and coming home was really, really good.
