Almost 5 hours into my vacation, I sat 5 feet from the break of the waves. I burrowed my legs deep within the shell-infused sand, closed my eyes, and let the sound of crashing and influx of brine warn me of approaching surf. The waves broke over my head, around my shoulders, or barely moved the shells tickling the tops of my thighs.
Ohana, my mind repeated with each approach of the wave and each retreat into momentary pause.
I'd heard the word in Lilo & Stitch, of course. Somehow, though, the culture that created it made it seem more enhanced, more real. Ohana. Union. In puritan cultures, the concept of family.
I heard a child giggle behind me in harmony with its father's deeper chuckle. In front of my eyes, a surfer fell into the surf and 2 observers groaned his defeat. The waves came in and moved out, bringing sounds of animals, birds, and the smell of fish.
Ohana.
It may seem trite, but for one brief moment, I connected to the whole of universal existence. Union. Ohana. In us all.
6 comments:
And how, exactly, did you manage to not semi-permanently miss your return flight?
I love the concept of ohana. It is not uncommong in Hawaii to have two homes on the same property. Family is family, and extended family has the same rights and privilegs of nuclear family.
And I totally get the "connected" thing... it's like Hawaii is the navel for all mankind.
I'm going to the Keys in two weeks, and I'm reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance right now. Does that count?
Ohana...isn't that from Johnny Lingo?
For the longest time, my oldest daughter called Lindsay Lohan; Lindsay LOHANA. Hey, she's all about getting together and making some unity too, you know.
It's the trite moments in life that keep me going. Pass the trite please.
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