In the olden days there were a man and a woman who loved each other and stole away to hide in the forest without the knowledge of the girl’s parents, and indulged their passion. A little patter of rain fell on them but they paid no attention to it. After a pause, one went to see if the rain had cleared. It had not and they fell asleep. After some time
they awoke, and found the rain still falling and again went to sleep. For several days and nights the two slept and the rain fell. At length they woke and found that their heads had been sharpened and flattened from the long sleep while the rain fell, day and night. Hence it is called Ka au Poolipilipi 0 Kalihi “the rain that sharpens the heads in Kalihi”

Poepoe Coll
HEN: Vol II, p 155

The concept of balance comes up frequently in Hawaiian thought and is pivotal to it. The English word does not fully describe the Hawaiian idea of Pono, in which all is right with the world and all aspects of life are working harmoniously together. For optimum life, balance was considered necessary, first of all, among parts of nature–humans, animals, birds, plants, weather, water, land, and sky; among the female and male polarities; among the gods, demigods, and spirits, greater and lesser, and the humans who interacted with them; and finally, among the members of the extended family, the community, and the various strata of society.

The Hawaiian view also held that a healthy life maintained balance between the material and spiritual realms, and these were not to be separate from one another.

Weapons are made of wood and/or stone with the inclusion of sharks’ teeth on some of the weapons

When the slow-moving board of army officers at Washington, comprising a board of selections of the War Department, to select a site for a great army post on the island of Oahu, it considered carious locations, and then decided upon Leilehua for the future Schofield Baracks cantonment, they probably had no idea that they were merely continuing the ancient “School of War” established in olden times by the Hawaiian chiefs.

And similarly the board members probably had no idea that the swift-descending slope overlooking Haleiwa, through which the Waialua Hill road threads its way from the Schofield Barracks to the sea, was called “The Valley Of Spears,” and that it, too, had a military significance.

In ancient days soldiers were taught the arts of war as now, but with very different weapons. Instead of bayonets for the coup de grace, they held a shark’s tooth in the palm of the hand, bound to the rest of the hand with olona fiber, and with this they disemboweled their opponents.

But in the absense of weapons, they learned another art, the lua–the art of dislocating the joints and rendering an opponent helpless.

Like all other arts, the lua was prostituted to become a feature of brigandage. While the young Hawaiians were taught at Leilehua the arts of war, including the lua, brigandage flourished on the hill slopes overlooking Waialua, and there the brigands waylaid travelers passing from Kou (the present site of Honolulu) to Waialua and beyond. The victims were disjointed and often put to death. One had to be wary in those days of traveling. The soldiers at Leilehua warned travelers of the menace beyond their borders, and advised them that if they would elude the spears of the brigands they must use wariness and detours.

And so the slopes and gulch became known as

The Valley Of Spears.

The Bystander
Hon, Adv
Nov.22,1925 p8

Mechanical Icarus

I found myself in a debate recently on the notion that myths are no longer relevant. I, of course, stood on my Joseph Campbell soap box and defended not only the story telling aspect of Myths, but also how we cannot, as a society function without them. Here is a passage I shared with the disputant.

Where do our myths come from? Do they mean anything?

Why do we continue to talk about Hercules, Thor, Pele, and Laka? Why are stories of Zeus, Moses, and Martin Luther King Jr so resonant?

When we bring up the Mahatma or Steve Jobs, are we talking about real people or the ideas behind them?

Joseph Campbell nailed it. Myths aren’t about gods (real ones or imagined). They are about us. They are about humans acting human and doing it while wearing the cloaks of gods, of legendary figures. Myths highlight the very best of ourselves (and sometimes the worst). These stories don’t spread because a king or despot insists that we hear them and memorize them. No, we engage with and remember and resonate with myths because they’re about our favorite person, our best possible self.

Myths aren’t myths at all. They are mirrors, paths to walk, and bars to be exceeded. The forgotten part of the original story of Icarus was a powerful talisman, a reminder to avoid selling ourselves short, a reminder to honor the opportunities in front of us.

– Seth Godin
– The Icarus Deception