Checking Your Values

One day I found myself wondering why we celebrate New Year's Day on January 1st. After all, what's the point? Nothing special is happening in Nature on that day. The winter solstice happens more than a week before. Christmas, of course, is exactly one week before, and December 25th was celebrated as the beginning of the end of winter in many ancient cultures in the Northern Hemisphere, but so what? What does that have to do with January 1st? My curiosity led me into doing a little research.

First I checked out the whole idea of a New Year celebration. I found out that the oldest one recorded took place around 2000 B.C. in Babylon, which was in what we now know as Iraq. However, the ancient Babylonians celebrated the New Year in late March because that was the beginning of their new cycle of Spring planting. Before the planting, though, they spent eleven days in celebrations of thanksgiving for all the good that the gods had provided the previous year. In a very similar way the ancient Hawaiians celebrated the New Year in November, with four whole months of thanksgiving feasting and gaming and getting ready for the next season.

Some kind of New Year celebration has been part of virtually every culture on earth as a means of giving thanks for past things of value, and making preparations for another year of more things of value (hopefully).

Still, why January 1st? It isn't a harvest time or a seeding time in either hemisphere. As a point in the orbit of the Earth around the Sun it doesn't have any particular significance.

As it turns out, my research revealed that natural events are not the only things that humans consider significant.

During the early Roman Empire the first day of the New Year was January 1st. Weirdly enough, their January 1st fell on what we now know as March 25, at the beginning of Spring. Because various emperors and high-ranking officials placed great value on extending their terms of office, they fiddled with the lengths of months and years until the calendar got so out of whack that Julius Caesar had to put January 1st on its proper date again (March 25) in 46 B.C.

Enter the Catholic Church. As the leaders of that body became more politically powerful they decided to establish their own January 1st, in opposition to what they considered a pagan fertility festival. So they created a brand new calendar and made the New Year begin on the Feast of the Circumcision of Jesus, exactly one week after the birth of Christ by their reckoning.

The transition to this new New Year wasn't immediate. From the 11th to the 13th centuries, the Spanish and Portuguese celebrated the New Year on the Catholic January 1st, the British celebrated it on March 25th, the Italians on December 15 (which was Christmas day at that time) and the French on Easter Sunday. Meanwhile, and still today, the Chinese, Jews, and traditional Hawaiians celebrate New Year in their own timing. Because the Gregorian calendar is so widely accepted today, the latter get to celebrate the New Year twice if they want to.

It's time for a valid question to arise. What is the point of this article?

The point is that people everywhere have always acknowledged in some way the ending of an old cycle and the beginning of a new one. The exact timing of the cycle depends on the value--the importance--that people give to the cycle. As described above, some people may think natural cycles are more important and others may think religious or political cycles to be so. In addition, people everywhere have decided that the beginning/ending of the cycle is a good time to reflect on what they consider important in their lives, and to confirm these values or change them.

It doesn't matter whether your favorite cycle begins on January 1st, your birthday, the spring equinox, the winter solstice or Boxing Day. There is something inherently, humanly powerful about declaring that one cycle has ended and a new one has begun, and then using that transition time to give thanks for value received and make plans for value to come.

Your values consist of whatever you believe is most important in your life. Your values themselves have value because they govern every aspect of your personal behavior, and they influence the behavior of the world around you. In any situation in life you will always act according to what is most important to you at the time, no matter what the circumstance or what anyone around you says or does. If you are ever surprised by your own behavior, it's because you are not aware of your own values.

As an example, I was discussing values with my adorable wife and we each discovered something we didn't expect. We value our relationship highly, but during our discussion it came out very clearly that we value personal freedom even more. Our relationship has such a high value that we constantly accede to each other's wishes even when that means doing something we don't want to do, or not doing something we want to do. Since there is so much give and take on both sides, and so much joy in other aspects of the relationship, we consider these restrictions on personal freedom as easily tolerable (although I grumble sometimes just for the heck of it). In other words, the relationship has a higher value than these minor restrictions on our freedom. However, in playing the game of "What if...?" it came out that if these restrictions became "excessive" (by subjective evaluation) then the value of the relationship would diminish accordingly.

The discussion got even more interesting when we discovered that "relationship" and "personal freedom" are very abstract concepts. Behind those abstracts were the things we really valued most: the pleasure of our mutual admiration and respect; and the emotional satisfaction of making our own choices.

Behind all abstract values--love, power, health, freedom, etc.--are the very specific values, i.e., the really important things, that move us emotionally and motivate us behaviorally. At any given moment you will always move toward whatever holds the potential, in your estimation, for the greatest pleasure or the least pain.

In both California and Hawaii you can almost always tell who the carpenters are: they are the ones with surfboards in their pick-up trucks. They bring their boards to work, and when the surf is high enough the worksite is abandoned. The abstract view is that they value surfing more than working. The specific view is that they think the thrill of riding a big wave is more important than sawing wood for someone else (unless they are in dire need of money to pay the rent). They will usually stay on the job when the surf is mediocre, but when the waves reach a certain height...

Another example is the person who works so hard "for the family" that he or she ignores the family to the point where the person ends up alone and confused. Here the abstract value of "family security" is probably based on a very intense personal fear of being criticized for failing to support them. In the pursuit of avoiding criticism the actual family is lost from view.

The value of the discussion between my wife and myself was that we became more consciously aware of what we value. At the same time, because of our Huna background, we realized that it was all arbitrary. With the flick of a thought we can change any of our values that we choose to change. We can make important things unimportant and unimportant things important by our will alone. And the value of that is that we are more consciously aware of, and careful of, those values we choose to live by.

Changing what you value most in life is an act that has profound consequences for you and those around you, because the values you have now also have such consequences. If your life doesn't seem to be working out for you, there might be a problem with your values. If life is working out for you, then values are also involved and it might be a good idea to know what they are.

Any time is a good time to examine what is most important to you, in order to confirm it or make some alterations. Therefore, now is a good time, too.

Modern Shamanism

"You look more modern than I thought you'd be," said the visitor as we sat in my comfortable living room overlooking the ocean that surrounds the island of Kaua'i. He glanced at my large screen TV, the VCR, and the Tabora seascape on the wall with a faint trace of disapproval. Clearly I did not fit his model of what a shaman is supposed to look like.

His remark was typical of many visitors who expect--perhaps even hope--to find me wearing some kind of robe or sarong and living in primitive simplicity in a cave or a forest far away from the amenities of civilization. The general idea is that such a setting would somehow make me more authentic. I have even considered finding such a spot, having a ti-leaf skirt and cloak made, and giving all my visitors a nice show that would comfortably fit their preconceptions. Today I do live in a forest on a live volcano, but with my three computers, iPhone and iPad, Apple TV and hybrid Prius close at hand. Shamanism, however, is not limited to a particular location or style of dress or cultural environment. It is a way of thinking and acting that defies boundaries and limitations of any kind, and yet uses them when it fits a purpose.

In the old and ancient days the shaman--who was a healer of mind, body and circumstances--was right in the midst of tribal or village life. He or she might also play the part of priest/priestess or chief/chiefess if there were no one else to fill those roles, but the primary role was always that of the healer. The shaman took part in the work, play and cultural activities of the village and often used each of those for healing purposes, especially the cultural activities of art, song, dance and ritual. In some cultures the shaman wore distinctive clothing and only engaged in certain activities, while in others it was impossible to tell him or her apart from anyone else unless you were family, friend or acquaintance. When the shaman's services were called upon there was always appropriate compensation in goods or services of some kind, according to the local economic structure. In old Hawaii, for instance, those who made use of the shaman's healing abilities might in return give fruits and vegetables, livestock, tools, mats and/or clothing. Or they might give their services of fishing, farming, handcrafting or cleaning for a certain period. The important point is that the shaman was a part of the community, sharing its life and hopes and dreams and proximity. Isolation of the shaman from the community occurred only in times of religious or political repression, and even then there were always links maintained with a few members of the community.

Now shamanism is experiencing a revival of interest and freedom. Now the shaman is coming back into the community where he/she belongs in a viable, vital, visible way. It isn't necessarily any easier now, but it is extremely important that the new shamans who are remembering and reviving the ancient skills become fully a part of today's society, become modern shamans in every sense of the word.

A modern shaman (or "urban" shaman, as I often say) is one who uses the ancient knowledge in the context of our present social and cultural environment. I will frequently tell my apprentices that anyone can be a shaman in the woods (where there are no people to get in the way); the tough task is to be a shaman in the city. And yet the shaman belongs where the people are. That does not mean the modern shaman must live downtown or in a crowded barrio, or in a fast-growing suburb, but it does mean that he or she integrate with and be accessible to those who are to be helped. The tough task of being a modern shaman is made tougher by the fact that shamanism has only recently begun its revival, and it does not have a strong basis of support in today's culture. In the absence of such support, shamans need to help each other. The success of modern shamans, then, will depend on adaptability, integration, and cooperation.

Shaman knowledge has to do with an awareness of, and the ability to direct, the powers of mind and the forces of nature. Adapting the ancient wisdom to modern society is a fairly simple process because human beings still have the same desires for health, wealth and happiness, and the same emotions of love, anger and fear. And Nature still has the same basic elements of (to use the Hawaiian version) Fire, Water, Wind and Stone. The shaman's healing work is still, as it always has been, to change beliefs and expectations in order to change experience. The wisdom and its application are the same, only the context is different. An ancient shaman in the deep forest of a volcanic island using his hands to heal a wound from a wild boar and a modern shaman in a high-rise apartment building using her hands to heal a wound from a domestic cat use the same wisdom. An ancient shaman diverting a lava flow to save a village and a modern shaman calming the wind to keep a forest fire from burning a suburb use the same wisdom. The shaman skills of telepathy, energy release, manifesting, shape-changing, blessing, belief-change and inner journeying are not affected by time. All that has to be done is to adapt them to existing circumstances.

Integration is more difficult in today's society because of its variety and complexity. Most ancient shamans only had one or very few socio-cultural systems to deal with, and therefore a limited number of beliefs to work on. Today, however, there is such a vast mixture of radically different social, cultural, religious and philosophical systems that the modern shaman must constantly expand his or her knowledge and maintain an exceptional awareness of the prevailing beliefs of his or her community and its individuals through heightened development of the intuitive faculties, as well as by paying close attention to information supplied by the media.

More than ever, there is the need for cooperation among modern shamans in order to maintain and extend the wisdom, to give each other moral and practical support (even shamans need friends and helpers), and to broaden the application of shamanism to modern problems. My solution has been to form Aloha International, a world-wide network of people studying and practicing the Hawaiian shamanic tradition, but there also needs to be cooperation among the shamans of different traditions. It is truly cooperation that is needed, because shamanism is a non-hierarchical, democratic philosophy. There is a tremendous amount of healing work to do, on ourselves and for the world in general. Let us do it together in a spirit of real Aloha.

Teaching Huna To Children

From time to time I am asked whether any books or courses have been designed and presented by anyone specifically for children, or whether I might consider doing one.

In the first place, I think it would be great if someone would do that (and let me know so I can tell people who's doing it). In the second place, I wouldn't do it myself because I think Huna is so simple that anyone of any perceptive age can understand and apply it. As a matter of fact, most of the time when I'm teaching adults I have to make it more complicated than it really is so they'll accept it. It's often the case that when Huna is presented as simply as it really is, scientifically-trained and intellectually-conditioned people tend to dismiss it as not worth pursuing.

When parents ask me if their children can attend one of my courses I always say yes, as long as they are interested enough to participate in the excercises, discussions and questions. The youngest participant I ever had in a Huna workshop was a young boy of five and a half. He turned out to be one of the best students, with the most vivid experiences and some of the best questions. The only thing I had to make allowance for was his meditation technique of quietly rolling back and forth underneath his mother's chair.

Personally, I don't find any need for a special course just for children (although some parents might). Children have the same basic kinds of problems that adults have (love, fear, anger, success, etc.) and the same desire to be happier and more effective. As long as a child has something he or she wants to change, then they are ready for Huna.

Naturally, it's important to tailor your language to your audience. When I'm teaching a group of mostly adults with a few children I make it a point to include examples the children can relate to, and to cut down on intellectual discussions so they don't get too bored. When I'm teaching a group of mostly children with a few adults I include examples the adults can relate to and toss in an intellectual idea or two so they don't get bored. And I allow both adults and children the freedom to come and go as they please, using the theory that you are only going to learn what you are interested in anyway. Part of my job as a teacher is to make it as interesting as possible for all the participants, but I'm not obsessive about it.

If I were going to teach the Seven Principles to a group of children I would probably re-word them a bit. After all, there is nothing sacred about the wording. As long as you get the concept across you are being true to their spirit. So I might state them in the following alternate ways:
1. The world is what you think it is - How you feel depends on how you think.
2. There are no limits - Everything hears what you say and feels what you feel.
3. Energy flows where attention goes - What you want is more important than what you don't want.
4. Now is the moment of power - Things don't happen yesterday and they don't happen tomorrow; they only happen right now.
5. To love is to be happy with... - The more happy you are, the more lucky you are.
6. All power comes from within - There's always something you can do.
7. Effectiveness is the measure of truth - Always do what works (and if what you do doesn't work, do something different).

These are just suggestions, of course. In a particular situation or for a particular group I might change them in another way.

Children (like adults) tend to be very responsive to imagery, and that means it's important to use a lot of descriptive words full of sensory content when you are explaining something or leading a meditation or other inner experience, because the more abstract you are the less impression you make. Take this line from a guided meditation I've heard: "Now you are in a wonderful place where everyone is happy." Well-meaning, but it doesn't really evoke anything. Here's a more evocative alternative: "Now you are in a park where birds are singing beside a waterfall surrounded by pretty flowers, and lots of children are playing games and laughing." The guideline here is to describe something that could be a specific place or event, and not just any place or any event.

With children in your audience (and certain adults) it's also a good idea to allow for more movement than you might ordinarily. Most adults in modern society have been thoroughly trained over many years to sit quietly in a class situation. Human learning, however, occurs much faster and is remembered better when both mind and body are involved in the process, and children know this instinctively. When children are in my audience I let them do whatever they want, as long as it's not disruptive to the class as a whole. Over the years I've learned that some people learn better when they are walking, lying down, looking away from me or just moving rhythmically. Since children are more apt to be this way than adults I give them as much leeway as possible.

Children don't have to be educated differently because they are children. They have to be educated in a way that allows for their language level, their concerns, and their ability to learn in ways that work for all humans, regardless of age.

Hawaiian Facts

As I have discovered in my travels, it is a mistake to assume that people know very much about our fiftieth State, so here are some facts to give you a better sense of the spiritual home of our teaching.

The State of Hawaii is a fifteen hundred mile long chain of 132 islands, reefs and shoals stretching from the southeast at about the latitude of Mexico City to the northwest at about the latitude of Houston. However, 99.9 % of the land area is on a fairly close group of eight major islands around the lower latitude. In land area only, the State is larger than Connecticut. 

There are about one million and a half persons living in the State, with 80% of them living on Oahu. About 23 % are haole, or of Caucasian descent, about the same are of Japanese descent, and about 21 % of Native Hawaiian descent. The rest are from all over. Even those born in Hawaii are not called Hawaiians. That word is reserved for Native Hawaiians and part Hawaiians only. As a side note, there is no such word as "Hawai'ian" either in English or Hawaiian, so please don't use it.

Hawaii, "the Big Island," (or Hawai'i in Hawaiian) from which the State gets its name, has about two-thirds of the land area. No one knows what the name means because it is probably part of a much older name, but one possibility is "Place of the Water of Life." The island is famous for its orchids, coffee, macadamia nuts, and volcanoes. In fact it has five large volcanoes. Mauna Kea (where it snows sometimes) and Kohala (in the north) have not erupted in historical times. Hualalai, overlooking Kona on the west coast, last erupted around 1800. Both Mauna Loa (tallest mountain in the world measuring from sea bottom and also where it snows sometimes) and Kilauea (legendary home of Pele the volcano goddess) still erupt fairly frequently. A new volcano, Loihi, is erupting underwater about twenty miles off the southern coast. 

Maui, the second largest island, is shaped like Tahiti with two volcanoes and a valley between. Many believe it is named after the shaman hero of legend, Maui Kupua. Its largest volcano, Haleakala, last erupted in 1790. Maui is famous for pineapples, Lahaina (an old whaling port and modern tourist mecca), superb sweet onions, and condominiums. Maui also produces some very good pineapple and grape wines. On the northeast coast are the lush jungles of Hana and the Seven "Sacred" Pools (which were used for bathing and laundry and have nothing sacred about them at all except for the fact that they are part of Maui).

Oahu (or O'ahu), third largest, is usually called "The Gathering Place" which may come from ahu meaning "collection" or "heap" or may just refer to it as a population center. However, it if is really named O'ahu, then that refers to a coat or a cape and no one knows what that is supposed to mean. Oahu is famous for Diamond Head, Honolulu, Waikiki, and Pearl Harbor, as well as many military bases. It is "in" to put down Waikiki as a tourist trap, but it still has the best shopping and one of the finest beaches in the islands. The Bishop Museum in Honolulu is a wonderful place to study old Hawaiian culture. Oahu is also famous for some of the best surfing in the world on its North Shore, and sometimes the most dangerous (30 foot winter waves).

Kauai (or Kaua'i) is the fourth largest island. Called "The Garden Isle", its name can mean "The Great Rains." Today it is considered by Hawaiians as the most spiritual place in the islands. It is famous for its magnificent natural beauty, including the Fern Grotto and the Na Pali Coast, for the legendary Menehunes (Hawaiian elves in the very old sense), the high mountain forests of Koke'e, the dangerous and mysterious Alaka'i Swamp, and Mt. Waialeale (wettest spot in the world with 451 inches annually).

Molokai (or Moloka'i), the fifth largest, is now called "The Friendly Island," but a few years ago it was called "The Lonely Island." A desire for tourism prompted the change. I think the name means "to train (ka'i) to tie bundles (molo)" and refers to the training of kahunas, for it is a fact that there were more schools there than anywhere else. Molokai is famous for its former leper colony, its mule rides down cliff trails, its many temples, and its low level of development.

Lanai (or Lana'i) is the sixth largest and called the Pineapple Island because that's mostly what used to grow there. The name Lanai means either "stiff-backed," referring to its single ridge, or "porch" (referring to it as the porch of Maui, perhaps), but Lana'i means a type of sweet potato, a very important crop in the old days. The pineapples are gone now and resort development has taken their place, but there is still a lot of empty land and isolated beaches. The island's population is around 2000.

Niihau (or Ni'ihau), the seventh largest, is called "The Forbidden Island" and a lot of tourist hype is played around that. Actually, it is forbidden because the whole island of 70 square miles is a private ranch, owned by the Robinson family. The Hawaiian name is a type of yam, another important crop. Tourist agencies like to give the impression that the Hawaiians there live in the old ways, but what that really means is that they live in a company town like the plantation era of the 1800s. The island is famous for a particular kind of shell necklace made there and the population of the single village is about 200. Hawaiian is the first language through 3rd grade, according to the last I heard.

The smallest "major" island is Kahoolawe (or Kaho'olawe), only 45 square miles. The name means "The One That Was Taken Away." I don't know when that name was given, but that's how the Hawaiians and the State of Hawaii feel about it today because after Pearl Harbor the Navy took it over for bombing practice and still won't give it back. There is currently a strong movement to make it into a center for Hawaiian culture, and some progress has been made in that direction. The old name of the island was Kanaloa, also an ancient god of the sea, and it was an important place for navigation training.

The motto of the Monarchy, the Republic and the State is Ua mau ka 'ea o ka 'aina i ka pono, usually mistranslated as "The life of the land is perpetuated in righteousness," which sounds nice, but makes no logical sense. In context, the statement was made by Kamehamena III on the occasion when the British government restored sovereignty to the kingdom after it had been illegally taken over by an over-ambitious naval officer. A more appropriate translation would be "The sovereignty of the country endures because of proper behavior" (on the part of the British).

Scientific Magicians

One aspect of the modern scientific view is that if something can't be measured in some way then it isn't real. This has led to some pretty unreal conclusions that most people today in scientifically-oriented societies accept without question. Take public opinion polls as an example. When you hear that a scientifically designed poll has determined that 67% of Americans (or Germans, or Japanese, or Pueblo Indians) favor this or that policy, this or that person, or this or that flavor of ice cream you tend to accept the results as having some realistic basis. The unspoken assumption for most people is that the 67% is a percentage of the whole population, which is, of course, absurd. In any given poll there is neither the time, the money nor the technology to ask everyone in the country what they think about something. 

What happens is that the pollsters ask a few people (sometimes a hundred, sometimes more or less) what they think and give you the percentage of that group. Using complicated mathematical formulae to justify the process they pretend that what the small group thinks is what the whole nation thinks.

For a poll to be really scientific you would have to ask everyone whose opinion you wanted. Using a small group to represent a large group isn't scientific, it's magical. 

A fundamental premise of what is called "sympathetic magic" is that a small thing can represent a much larger thing to which it is symbolically connected, and that by acting upon the small thing in some way you can influence the behavior of the larger thing.

Among some Inuit Indians in the Arctic region, when a man goes out to hunt a whale his wife stays home and lays down on the floor under a sealskin. For this purpose the sealskin represents the ocean and she represents the whale. During the whole time of the hunt she stays as still as possible so that the whale her husband is hunting will also stay still and allow him to harpoon it. It is my understanding that the symbolic connection ceases the moment the husband casts the harpoon so that the wife is not symbolically injured in any way. It is assumed by the Inuit that purposely deciding to have the woman represent the whale sets up a magical (or at least decidedly unscientific) connection between her and the cretacean in which her behavior will modify that of the sea-going creature. This is an example of sympathetic magic.

In old Hawaii foot travelers would carve semi-circular patterns on lava boulders around their camping grounds in order to ward off malicious or unfriendly spirits. The pattern was in the shape of an arch called hoaka, a word that means both "arch" and "protection." The carving was supposed to have the same power as the alternate meaning of the word it represented. This was also a form of sympathetic magic.

In the USA (and increasingly elsewhere) people give and receive valentine cards on February 14th. These cards have hearts on them that represent the physical heart of the giver or that of the receiver. The physical hearts in turn are assumed to represent the affections of one or the other party. By getting the receiver to look at the card the giver intends to influence the receiver's emotional state, thereby influencing the behavior as well. There isn't anything scientific at all about this. It's purely sympathetic magic.

When a poll is undertaken it isn't being done for altruistic reasons. It is being done to influence people. The pollsters themselves are actually magicians dressed up as scientists, and their mathematical formulae differ only in form from the incantations of ancient wizards. The use of a small group of people to symbolically represent a much larger group of people is nothing more than sympathetic magic. The use of the opinions of those people to influence the opinions of the larger group falls into the same category. When you hear or read the results of polls, just remember that it's a magical result. It might also be useful to remember that, just like science, magic sometimes works.

Love, Power and Harmony

It is very clear to any serious student of society that all human beings share the same needs, desires, and, to a large degree, even symbolism, regardless of race, color, creed or culture. What every human being enjoys and wants can be defined as Love, Power and Harmony.

Love is part of our nature. It is the state of feeling happily connected to another, or the act of becoming connected. It is extending our self to include another. We do not have to strive for love unless we feel we do not have it. When human beings gather under circumstances where there is no fear, love simply happens. I have attended many gatherings in many different countries where dozens of complete strangers became loving friends after two or three days of just being together. What they did and why they were there didn't seem to matter. Merely close proximity and a lack of fear produced love without effort.

In times of danger love also manifests naturally. When there is a disaster or an accident, people who are not locked in fear automatically begin to assist the ones who need help. They don't have to be taught or instructed, except in how to help better. The desire to help, which is a form of love, arises spontaneously. This automatic love response is so great that some people will put their own lives at great risk to help another person. We call such people heroes when they jump into raging rivers to save someone from drowning, or run into a burning building to bring out a child, or do any one of a hundred other brave things to help another. And yet, few of these people think of themselves as heroes. Most of the time they say they did it because it was the thing to do, or they did it without thinking. It was a spontaneous act of love.

Doubt is the one thing that weakens the connection of love. When a person doubts the existence of love, then fear is born and love begins to die. Fear interferes with love because it is the opposite of love. Fear comes from feeling or being disconnected. When love diminishes, fear increases; and when fear diminishes, love increases. More than that, when love diminishes, so does the need and desire for love.

The need and desire to love and be loved influence all our actions and reactions to the degree that we feel a lack of love in any form. In addition to the powerful force of sexual love, we are also driven by a love for approval and recognition. Many of our behaviors are guided by the hope of approval, or the reaction to disapproval. And many are guided by a quest for recognition, however small or temporary, especially when affection and approval do not seem imminent. Great acts that benefit all of society and vicious acts that harm society may both come from the need and desire for recognition. When recognition is lacking some people will force it by seeking respect, perhaps through doing something worthwhile, or perhaps through achieving a false respect by causing fear.

When there is sufficient frustration in satisfying the need and desire for love of any kind, the result is mental or physical sickness. This happens when the fear that results from the lack of love has no outlet. When, according to the beliefs of the individual, there is nothing that can be done, the fear causes a withdrawal inward, producing great tension on the body and therefore illness.

Power is part of our nature. Like love, we do not have to strive for power unless we feel we do not have it. Power itself is the act of being effective. From the very moment of conception we are all in the process of expressing our power, of doing that which is effective for our survival and our pleasure. From then on, in every moment of our lives, we are engaged in expressing our power, more or less effectively. Physically, our bodies are engaged in maintenance, repair, growth, learning and pleasure-seeking. Mentally, our minds are engaged in problem-solving, creativity and extending our influence into the world around us. We are always powerful, but for many reasons we may not always realize it. When the expression of power is not effective, the natural reaction is to seek a different solution to a problem or to find another way of being effective. Inventors may experiment with thousands of different approaches before their inventions work; sports teams may try dozens of different strategies to win against their opponents; politicians may devise many different economic and social plans to achieve their ends. Individually, people try different healing techniques and approaches, different careers, different relationships, and different religions with the aim of being more effective in their lives.

Again, doubt is the one thing that weakens the natural expression of power. When a person doubts his or her personal power, or source of power, then anger is born and power begins to flee. As power decreases, anger increases; and as anger decreases, power increases. And, as with love, when power decreases, so does anger as well as the need and desire for power.

The most popular technique for trying to regain power while doubt and anger are still operating is control. Many people confuse power with control, but control is what people use when they are feeling powerless. Active control is used to force people to do what you want. It usually takes the form of intimidation or physical force. Passive control, also called passive aggression, takes the form of getting people to do what you want by refusing to act, or by making them feel guilty enough to do what you want. Besides being bad for relationships and effectiveness, the attempt to control causes a lot of tension in the controller.

When control isn't possible, another technique sometimes used is vandalism. A child who feels hurt and powerless may break things to display anger. This seldom works to control parents, but it does get a reaction, and that substitute for effectiveness brings a little satisfaction, at least. The child thinks, "I can't get what I want, but at least I can make someone unhappy." It is a very poor substitute for effectiveness, but it can progress from childhood tantrums to teenage vandalism to adult terrorism. And of course it brings tension with it. However, when there is no outlet for the anger and no return to real power the anger is directed inward and the result is mental and physical illness.

Finally, there is the natural inclination toward harmony. By harmony I mean the mutually beneficial integration and cooperation of people with their social and natural environment. We can see this most easily in isolated tribal groups, but it exists also in many small communities, neighborhoods, groups, clubs and associations. We may see attempts to create harmony by national governments and the United Nations, but the larger the group the more difficult it seems to be. This partly because the larger the group the easier it is for it to be more impersonal. That is, the easier it is to lose a sense of connection and personal influence. But harmony involves more than that; it really has to do with a sense of one's place and purpose in the world, and a recognition of interdependence with the rest of the world. When a person doubts that interdependence and doubts one's own place and purpose within it, then alienation is born. Instead of "you and I or we and they together" it becomes "me or us against them." Alienation, which often includes extreme restlessness, apathy, confusion and despair, creates great internal tension and, of course, mental and physical illness.

The solution for illness caused by fear is to be more loving, by giving more acknowledgement, appreciation, admiration, tolerance, mercy, caring and help to others and to yourself. The solution for illness caused by anger is to increase your knowledge, skill, and self confidence. The solution for illness caused by alienation is to first seek spiritual harmony with a higher or deeper being, and then look for that spirit in all things. If you want a quick fix, though, because of the ultra-fast pace of modern life, then simply cease to doubt. Keep a healthy skepticism whenever necessary, but refuse to doubt your own value, the value of others, and the value of the world.

Along The Rainbow Trail To The Temple Of Mu

A number of years ago on Kauai a friend and I hiked the Rainbow Trail from Princeville, around the Makaleha Mountains, up to the 2000-foot trail summit of Kualapa, and down a ridge between the Keahua and Uhau 'Iole valleys to the Arboretum west of Wailua. This trail roughly follows an ancient Hawaiian foot trail that went from Hanalei to Koloa, well inland from the coast. Although the trail is more well known as Powerline Trail because the original trail was used as a guide for setting up the towers to carry electrical power from south to north, I call it the Rainbow Trail for several reasons: 1) it starts by a forest of rainbow eucalyptus trees in the south; 2) it ends overlooking the Hanalei River and Bay, a famous birthplace of rainbows; and 3) because of the full spectrum of colors displayed by clay deposits all along the trail. The condition of the trail, by the way, is that of a very, very badly eroded dirt road. It is the height of folly, as many people (even locals) have discovered, to attempt the trail in a vehicle without four-wheel drive, and even then some of the holes are too deep to traverse, especially after heavy rains. It can be tricky on foot, too.

On that first trip with a friend, however, the weather was very dry, and as we were striding along a couple of miles from the end of the trail our attention was attracted to a strange pile of rocks on the other side of the Keahua Valley, about three-quarters of the way up a hill to the right of the cleft containing Kapakaiki Falls. I say strange because they had the appearance of two very large black boulders leaning against each other, with what seemed like a cave entrance below them. The boulders were exceptionally large and unlike any others along the whole trail. The hill was too low and eroded for them to have fallen from anywhere, so they must have been remnants from the gigantic, 20,000-foot volcano that used to be Kauai. It was the idea of a cave that fascinated us most, though, and we talked about coming back some day to explore it.

In August 2001 my Navy Seal son Dion and his wife came to visit us on Kauai. He wanted to go on a hike, so I suggested we take the Rainbow Trail and scout the area with binoculars to see if the assumed cave was even approachable. Another friend, Thierry Pfau from Switzerland, joined us, and so we three set off from the Arboretum side for what I expected to be a short jaunt. This time, however, the undergrowth was lush and high, recent rains made Kapakanui and Kapakaiki Falls exciting to look at, and it had been several years since I'd been there, so we hiked almost to Princeville and back before I walked to the base of one of the new power pylons and spotted the big black boulders in the late afternoon.

A careful survey with binoculars made the place seem even more intriguing. The boulders appeared to be held in position by a straight-edged pillar under each one, about a third of the width of the boulder and made of a different, lighter material. It also appeared to me through the binoculars that the left-hand pillar was carved to represent a woman with breasts and at least one arm, her left, crossing over her body. Dion and Thierry saw the same effect. Also, the apparent ravine they were sitting in had no visible water flow during a time of heavy rains, and no visible stream bed below the boulders. I knew that these impressions were probably caused by an over-active imagination propelled by wishful thinking and late-afternoon shadows. Most likely the boulders were left over from a time when the mountains of Kauai were much higher, and the water flow was simply not visible from any of our viewing angles. Because of these impressions, however, and as an act of fancy, I dubbed the location the "Temple of Mu." We had a lot of fun speculating on the prospect of treasure or even an underground city from an ancient civilization before heading home.

Late the next day my adventurous son suggested that we try to reach the "temple." My adventurous self said, "Why not?" and our adventurous friend, Thierry, was excited by the prospect. So, without much thought, and without much preparation, we left early the next morning for the Arboretum. On the way to the trailhead there were omens we couldn't decipher, but which made it clear that this would be more of a spiritual quest than a simple hike. For instance, as we drove along Kuhio Highway we saw an older Hawaiian man dressed in a black kihei and carrying a tall staff walking on the shoulder as if he were an ancient kahuna on his own quest. And as we approached the lookout an owl, my Hawaiian family's aumakua, flew over our heads and down into the valley.

Dion's wife and mine accompanied us to the pylon from which we had the best view. A more careful and detailed binocular survey revealed that the "pillars" were most likely just rock and earth material at the end of the ravine that the boulders were resting on, and both Dion and I thought we could see a wall of earth just a very short distance into the cavity made by the boulders. It seemed even more like a couple of old boulders blocking a natural ravine. On the other hand, one of the boulders seemed to have a channel carved into it, and and we were already there after all...

We took a quick look at the terrain. We would have to descend a fairly steep slope on our side to the Keahua Stream and we picked what looked like a feasible route down to an open field. On the other side of the stream we identified a finger ridge that didn't look too bad, and which could lead us directly to the boulders. We figured it would be a six hour round trip. Plenty of time to make it home for dinner. "Oh what fools we mortals be."

Before we started I chanted in Hawaiian to the spirits of the place, requesting their cooperation and help, and I am extremely glad I did. The wives wisely decided to go shopping and we three adventurers ambled along the trail, looking for a place to start. Soon Thierry plunged into the jungle and down the slope, followed by Dion and myself. Within the first twenty-five yards my pack came open and I lost all my gear, but Dion retrieved most of it (my binoculars are still up there as of this writing). Downward we went through mud and monstera (one of the thorny, imported scourges of the wilderness), guava and 'akala (a thorny, Hawaiian raspberry with delicious fruit as its saving grace) to a steep creekbed that we followed until we realized it was clearly going in the wrong direction. Then we headed across our "open field" which turned out to be a tall, thick mesh of sword fern, uluhe fern, and 'akala bushes. Dion tried to break a trail, but it just wouldn't break. Balked by a cliff, we went uphill again and - two and a half hours later and only halfway to the stream - we had lunch by a dead tree left over from Hurricane Iniki.

Somewhat refreshed, we trod on uluhe fern across the face of a cliff and slipped and slid down a short ridge to the stream. By this time I was exhausted, and after an all-too-brief rest we clambered up the far bank through forest and fern and found ourselves at the foot of the finger ridge we had seen from the trail far above and behind us. So up we went: Dion first, Thierry, and finally me, lagging way behind. The ridge was steeper than we had expected and now I was glad for the presence of the ferns because their tough roots gave me something to hold onto as I painfully pulled my way up.

At the top of the finger the ridge got very narrow, with the valley end dropping off quickly to the right and the mountain end heading left like a roller coaster, then curving to the right and up to Makaleha. In front of us the ridge fell in a steep slope to a small hanging valley, and about halfway up the other side, almost directly across from us, were the giant boulders. Unfortunately, we were now seeing them at an angle that gave us a view from the left which was obscured by a smaller boulder, so we couldn't see the "entrance."

The narrow ridge to the left was covered with ferns, of course, and part of it looked very steep. After that, however, it looked reasonably level as it followed the perpendicular cliff on the right side of Kapakaiki Falls, which were not visible from where we were. Further on was a small finger of the ridge that sloped down to the big boulders. My body absolutely refused to go any further, so I sat and waited while Thierry and Dion tackled "Rollercoaster Ridge." Some time later Thierry came back, saying that his body had no interest in attempting the steep part.

Dion plodded on, slowly following the ridge up the steepest part, along the dangerous cliff face, and down the finger toward the boulders. Halfway down the finger he stopped for awhile, then came all the way back to our resting place without reaching the boulders themselves. He explained that he had given himself a half hour to make the final trek, and when that was up he decided that to go any further would take far too long. It was now four-thirty in the afternoon and we were still at the top of the finger ridge in the middle of the wilderness. Even so, from our current vantage point we could see far down the Keahua valley to the outline of Sleeping Giant, and even to the ocean beyond.

Now the three of us made a critical choice. Looking across the valley we could see the signs of our fern-supported cliff crossing and our slippery slide to the stream. We could also see the Rainbow Trail and the power pylon we used as a lookout point. They looked tantalizingly near, but we knew that the climb up that slope would be very difficult. I estimated that we could make it to the trail in 2-3 hours once we reached the stream bed. On the other hand, there was the Keahua valley stretching peacefully now to our left. The valley bottom was covered with dusty green hau trees, and I knew what a tangle they could make over a stream, but to Thierry and Dion it looked better than the slope. I argued for the slope because it was shorter, but even though I pride myself on being a good wordsmith I used exactly the wrong words in my argument. "The slope is a known quantity," I said. "It's difficult, but we know we can make it, and even if it takes a little longer than we expect we know we can be home before too long. The stream is an unknown quantity. It will definitely take longer and we have no idea what we will encounter. We could be hiking into danger." Whoops! Too late I noticed their eyes glazing over. "...unknown quantity...no idea...encounter...danger..." I forgot that I was talking to adventurers. Outnumbered, outvoted, and outclassed, I willingly went along with their decision to follow the river.

We made it to the stream bed by five-thirty and immediately began walking the rocky bottom. Fortunately, the recent rains had been light and the stream was relatively shallow. I should mention that by now we had run out of fresh water and the stream did not look or smell potable. Our walking quickly fell into a routine: Dion would usually lead, Thierry was next, and I would stumble along far behind. At some point they would wait for me, and as soon as I caught up they would take off again. The stream had a routine, too. First there were shallow rapids, followed by a deep, quiet pool, followed by rapids, followed by a pool, and so on. As I expected, hau tree branches broke the monotony quite frequently, criss-crossing the stream above and below the water and turning it into a maze. Very rarely were there any walkable banks and we made use of them whenever possible. The hau trees were not continuous, however. Long streches of the stream were bordered by ferns, pu'ohe'ohe (Job's-tears) and guavas. Whenever we came to a pool that we couldn't go around we had to carry our packs on our shoulders and wade as close to the edge as we could. Often we waded up to our chests through such pools. Once, when a pool was blocked by impenetrable hau branches I had to wade across the width and the water came up to my neck. That was a shallow one.

Darkness came sooner than we wanted, making a tangle of hau trees up ahead look like an inky black cave. When it got really black Dion pulled out his flashlight and guided us. Somewhere in the middle of the night the batteries gave out and I provided one of those intense, cobalt blue key lights that worked extremely well. However, Dion used it very sparingly from then on, and most of the time we marched along by starlight or no light at all, with the blue beam being used only to silhouette low hau branches or warn us of otherwise invisible pools. I remember Venus appearing so bright I hopefully thought it was a headlight at first, and later a brilliant quarter-moon came up, swam in and out of clouds, and passed over. Finally there was a lightening of the sky that I took for the glow of a town, but it was only the sun rising. With a shock I realized we had been hiking through the stream the whole night long.

We knew we were heading toward the stream crossing at the Arboretum, and always hoped to see it around the next bend. Sometimes, however, we wondered if we were on the way to Po'ipu. As the morning wore on I was so dehydrated that my throat closed up when I tried to swallow and I started having dry heaves. I searched for a tributary of any size that might have clean water, and when I found one that looked clean and smelled clean I went ahead and took a few swallows, telling my body to assimilate what was good and eliminate whatever wasn't.

I was in much worse shape than either Dion or Thierry, being much older and lazier than either of them. I was exhausted when we started the trek along the stream and my energy level went down from there. Once, during the night, a small part of my mind suggested we quit, but all the other parts chimed in, "We don't do that, ever." Still, I had to reach beyond myself for the strength and skill to go on because willpower wasn't going to be enough. I drew on several basic shamanic techniques to help me survive.

The most useful of all was la'a kea, the conscious use of my energy field. For this, I imagined my field extending beyond my body and connecting to the energy of my environment - rocks, water, plants, stars, etc. Then I called on this field to draw on the energy of the environment for its needs, and to do the walking for me. As long as I remembered the field was there, doing its thing, I was fine. However, the longer we trekked, the more my mind tended to wander, and that was dangerous. When I was fully in the present moment, letting my energy field do all the work, I walked effortlessly and with balance. But if my thoughts strayed out of the moment I would stumble, and sometimes fall. Three falls could have been very serious, but I employed the famous "Repetition" technique (a.k.a. "Mindblower") quickly enough so that pain dissipated right away and injuries were averted. The second most useful technique, however, was a simple affirmation to help keep my mind focused: "Solid footing, here and now" was a chant that brought me back to balance and presence over and over and over again.

Some curious things happened late into the night. For one thing, I had two persistent hallucinations. One was of purple flowers that I saw on all kinds of bushes, and the other was of red dirt or mud that I saw sometimes on bushes and sometimes on whole stretches of stream bank, making it look like a cliff where there were really hau trees. Once the mud looked so real as I stood in some pu'ohe'ohe that I had to reach down and touch the leaves to make sure the mud wasn't really there. Another perception was of bright energy particles in the air, but I don't consider that a hallucination because Thierry also saw it and I have seen it before. In addition to phenomena with eyes open, both Thierry and I had similar experiences when we closed our eyes even briefly. On some occasions we both saw beautiful geometric patterns in brilliant colors. They reminded me of the "Eye of God" patterns used by some Native Americans. On other occasions both Thierry and I experienced intense "dreamlets" when we closed our eyes and we had to force ourselves to keep our eyes open in order not to get lost in other worlds. One time, however, deep in the night, Dion had led the way across a point of bushy land to avoid a pool. As I approached the spot I saw Thierry standing and apparently waiting for me as usual, so I climbed ashore and stood next to him. He said Dion had gone on ahead to find a way around, so I waited, too, slipping in and out of dreamlets and patterns. I also hallucinated that Dion was standing next to Thierry consulting a GPS device to determine where we were. After what seemed like a very long time I said, "Maybe this would be a good place to wrap ourselves in a poncho and go to sleep." Thierry said,. "Where did Dion go?" At that moment we both saw a flash of blue light signaling us to come forward. As it turned out, Dion had been calling and signaling us for a long time and neither of us noticed because we were mostly in a dream state.

With morning my own energy came back to some degree, but it seemed like we were still plodding on in a never-ending story. Finally, Thierry pushed ahead while Dion stayed close to me because I was going more and more slowly. And at last the miracle occured. Dion, up ahead, signaled to me that we had reached our destination. There was the concrete roadway of the Arboretum, covered by the waters of the stream, and there was Thierry, video-taping our final emergence from the wilderness. We had been fifteen hours in the stream; it had been twenty-five hours of almost non-stop hiking since we started. Our hands were full of thorns, our arms were covered with angry red scratches and welts, and our feet looked as if they belonged to corpses. Nevertheless, we had made it, without serious injury and without getting sick. We were tired and hungry, but alive and essentially well. I thanked the spirits for their help. The trek had been extremely difficult, physically and mentally, but in spite of numerous opportunities no one was badly injured; in spite of the hardship no one complained or got upset; in spite of the recent storms it hadn't rained the whole time we were out; and, most miraculous of all, in spite of all the standing water there weren't any mosquitoes. We celebrated with gratitude, warm water and ice cold beer.

And out there in the wilderness, the Temple of Mu still stands untouched.

For photos of this journey go to http://www.sergeking.com/Hsites/kauai/kau14001.htm