Vivekan Don Flint's memorial service in Hawaii; an offering to
Pele
February 14, Valentine's Day, 2001
I'm back from Hawaii. Nothing went as planned; everything went well.
Jim Simmons, who was to lead us on a hike up a bike trail he and Don
frequently enjoyed, was in a motorcycle accident a month ago and his
right foot was crushed. I had already bought the tickets by then, so I
decided to come out anyway. I thought we could have a more sedate
memorial, perhaps at his home or some other location convenient to Diana
George and Stewart Horance and Don's other Hawaiian friends, and I
wanted to keep the symbolism of the New Moon going.
However, Stewart fell ill with an inner ear problem that pretty much
kept him immobilized. Diana was busy and wasn't able to be free on
Thursday, the night of the full moon. I don't know if anyone spoke to
the other Hawaiian contacts (I've never met them and don't have their
phone numbers). So the trip turned into a visit with Jim, followed by a
few days on the Big Island.
The visit with Jim went very well. Diana picked me up at the airport.
To my astonishment, she was not only on time, but actually brought me a
lei. How thoughtful! (Jim later told me it was he who suggested the
lei; he thinks it's an important part of the tradition of Hawaiian
hospitality. Still, I was surprised that Diana was organized enough to
pick it up and get to the plane on time. She has considerable
difficulty with schedules.)
Diana drove me to Jim's place in Waianae, a considerable distance from
the airport. It was warm and sunny. By the time I got to Jim's, I was
ready to take some clothes off, and quickly got into a tee shirt and
shorts. Diana had to return to Honolulu to perform a wedding, so Jim
and I rested a bit, then I drove us to Honolulu and we had a mai tai on
the beach and then dinner at a seafood buffet. Between the mai tai and
dinner, we rode an outdoor elevator up to the 30th floor of a hotel and
marveled at the almost full moon lighting up the slopes above Waikiki.
It was the next to last time I saw the moon on my trip. It rained
almost constantly for the next five days. It was a nice lesson in the
futility of trying to plan everything.
The next day, I took Jim around to several appointments, including
getting his splint changed. There was some question about how I would
get back to Honolulu on Friday so I could get to the airport on Saturday.
Jim and Diana have very different conversational styles. Jim is direct
and succinct and quickly forms and commits to a given plan; Diana is
circuitous and constantly changing her mind.
Later that afternoon, Jim and I drove around the island, stopping at
several of the spots Don and I visited our last time on Oahu. We rounded
Diamond Head in a thunderous downpour, but arrived at the Shearton
Surfrider in time for High Tea, just as Don and I had. We had a good
time. I had brought Don's ashes along in a small woven box, and he had
tea with us. The waiter thought this was an excellent idea, and even
brought us a third pot of tea. He let us take the antheriums from the
vase on the table. I thought they would make an excellent gift for
Pele.
Friday, Diana picked me up and drove me to her house. Jerry, her lover,
had made a delicious corn chowder and a grilled ham sandwich for me.
Then they were off to the Church of the Light, where the reverend was
channeling someone special. I declined their offer to go along.
Saturday, I flew to the Big Island, where my friend Lew Schwenk picked
me up and took me to his place. The address is Pahoa, but it's really
on the Red Road that leads to Kalani Hanua.
It was still pouring buckets most of the time. That afternoon, Lew had
a watsu appointment at Kalani (he's a practitioner and pays a pool fee to
use their warm pool). After doing a 90 minute session with a very vocal
and expressive woman, he gave me a 30-minute freebie. It was wonderful.
Unfortunatley, it turned out that there were not enough people
interested in doing a lava hike at Kalani, so I gave up on that idea.
The next day, I walked to Lew and Dwight's for breakfast. Their place
is just a few hundred feet down the road from the cabin I rented.
Dwight had good news: two guys at Kalani wanted to do a lava hike,
and David Patrick, one of the hike leaders, agreed to take them, even
though the usual minimum is five people. I eagerly signed up as well,
and that evening around 5:00 PM, we headed out.
It takes about an hour to drive out to the flow. It's not far, but
the road is mostly over lava flows and takes great concentration and
extreme caution to drive it. By the time we arrived, we were in the
middle of another downpour. We waited in the car for forty-five minutes,
hoping the rain would slacken. When it did, we set out across the flow.
In about half an hour, it was dark enough that we needed flashlights.
The rain slammed us intermittently, making it difficult to see where
we were going. And where we were going was full of steam as the
raindrops vaporized instantly on the hot rock. At last, we got close
enough that we could see bright red glows less than six inches below the
cracks we were striding over. We came to one exceptionally long crack,
glowing from red- to white-hot. "Gentlemen," I said, "this will suit
my purposes."
I had wrapped the frist two proofs of The White Crack in twine
and interwoven the antheriums from the high tea in the string. I
carefully placed these deep in the crack. Within seconds, they burst
into flames, and I sang Don's poem, "Breathe." The other guys were very
respectful and waited several moments after I finished before presenting
their offerings. I also presented three almonds and a piece of chocolate
that Dwight wanted to give the goddess.
It was quite dark by then. One of our group, Doug, was a little
disappointed he hadn't seen lava actually flowing. We got closer to a
brighter patch, but it was already cooling. Soon we decided we ought to
be heading back.
Just as we turned around, an enormous flow widened up behind us. It was
spectacular. It bubbled and poured over itself, just like in Disney's
"Fantasia." It flowed quickly towards us. We scampered up on a nearby
mound and watched in fascination as it filled a hollow with white-hot
rock, flowing and cooling, crackling as it cooled like tiny bottles
breaking. At one point, we could see it flowing overland and underground
through a cave at the same time. David Patrick said in all the years
he's been leading lava hikes, he's never seen such a spectacular flow.
I attributed it to Don's poetry. After all, one of the poems I offered
Pele ends, "what would the world be like if fire were just another form
of love?" I think we got our answer.
We returned to Pahoa and the Red Road, tired but happy. When I arrived
back and Dwight and Lew's, I realized I had left the flashlight they had
loaned me somewhere (out on the lava? in the car?). It was an
appropriate manifestation of my willingness to give up control, but I
was worried about how I would find my way back to the cabin in the pitch
black night. It was so dark, I couldn't even see the asphalt road I was
walking on. I had to feel for it and the edge of the pavement with my
shoes. Then, after I was beginning to think I had gone too far and
would have to go back to Dwight and Lew's for the night, I saw a light
shining through the trees. It was far away. I knew it couldn't be the
glow from that volcano, for that was behind me. I stopped to get a
better look.
It was the moon, rising. "Oh," I said, "there you are."
And there at my feet was the driveway leading to my cabin.
David Patrick, the man who led us on our hike across the lava,
returned to the mainland shortly thereafter and I saw him briefly
at a pot luck or a square dance, where I thanked him for sending
me the photos of the flow. He died of complications
due to AIDS in November, 2001.
