On Hula

The scorching lights burn my eyes as I walk toward the stage.  The thousands of volts cause beads of foundation-filled sweat to drip down my face.  The palapalai ferns I picked from the mountains and braided together are tied around my wrists and ankles like they were meant for cutting off circulation.  The sweet maile leaves twisted with pikake are draped around my neck; the strong, sweet scent filling my nostrils with a heady fragrance.  Voice strong, chin up, shoulders back, chest out, fingers together, strings tied, stomach sucked in, motions memorized, I'm ready.

O ka hula ka 'olelo o ka pu'uwai, no laila, 'o ia ka pana pu'uwai o ka po'e Hawai'i. "Hula is the language of the heart, therefore the heartbeat of the the Hawaiian people."

Hula is an ancient art form I fell completely in love with at the age of 8.  Being from a Japanese family, I was the black sheep who found my identity in Hawaiian dance and language.  I always had a deep love and respect for the beautiful island I call my home.  The Hawaiian people did not have a written language, so the only way to preserve their history and culture was through singing, chanting, and dancing.  It was their way of passing down the stories of their people.  The hundreds of beautiful Hawaiian songs and chants honor the beautiful places, people, events, and historical reigning monarchs of Hawai'i.  When I was very small, I saw a group of girls dancing hula on center stage at Ala Moana.  Their grace and confidence exuded off the stage, and I knew that was what I wanted to do.