We chose a residential site located in Manoa Valley on the island of Oahu in Hawaii for our Global Earth Exchange. In pre-European contact times, the area was mainly used for agriculture by Native Hawaiians and once hosted a thriving rainforest inhabited by many native forest birds.  Although the valley has a few remaining pre-western contact sites, such as a heiau (temple) and other archaeological features, most native forests and bird species have since vanished or become extinct.

The majestic home on the property was built in 1927-1929 by J.P. Mendonca, who migrated to Hawaii at age 17 in 1854 from the Azores off the coast of Portugal, and went on to become a wealthy and successful businessman. In 1893, as a member of Hawaii’s Annexation Party’s Committee on Public Safety, Mendonca took part in the illegal over-throw of the Hawaiian Kingdom. He later helped draft the Republic of Hawai‘i’s 1894 constitution before leaving politics. The home on the property was built for him to live in, but he passed away in December 1927 prior to the home’s completion. 

The property is situated on the slopes of “Puʻu ʻUalakaʻa” (rolling sweet potato hill) where according to Hawaiian legend, the hill was named after a chief who let his sweet potatoes roll down the slope, a reference to the area’s agricultural past. Historically significant, the property was listed in the Hawaii Register of Historic Places in 1984. At first glance, the Spanish Mission Revival style residence and remnants of a manicured garden are impressively beautiful and filled with grandeur. The gorgeous blue tile roof is visible from below. 

Upon closer inspection, despite the well-intentioned care of the residents, many of the plants are languishing, some dead or dying, and the soil barren. If you look closely, you can also see that the home itself is in a state of disrepair. Although I have been to the property numerous times, it was not until that day that a stone building that I had not really noticed before caught my attention just as I pulled into the driveway.  

The US bombing of Iran was announced about half an hour before our Global Earth Exchange, leaving some participants unsettled as we gathered and shared our intentions for attending.

Our practice began with Hawaiian oli (chanting) by one of our participants, Amala, who called upon the ancestors for protection, support, and guidance. The rest of us walked in silence following her around the perimeter of the property as she asked for cleansing and purification of the land. As Amala ended the oli, we all felt a breeze pick up over us as if it was affirming the blessings bestowed upon the place, and we gazed at one another in awe.

We then began to wander around the property on our own, and I was immediately called to the stone building. I pondered what it might have been built for, and I admired not only the beauty of each stone that had been carefully placed to fit tightly together, but also some plant life that was emerging from cracks between the stones, and on the roof. Fallen plumeria blossoms were scattered around one edge of the building, and I took in their fragrant scent. I continued to move around the property, and as I gazed at the home, I contemplated the current immigrant experience that is happening in present-day United States, in such contrast to the singular story of JP Mendonca, who came to Hawaii with presumably so little, yet eventually owned many properties, and who had had this home built. 

I sat with some of the ailing plants around the property, and sent healing energy towards them, and at one point, spent time admiring dead palm trunks that I would normally have paid no attention to, but through this practice found some incredibly beautiful patterns in the dead, almost fossil looking trunks. At one point, as I walked by the entrance to the property, I spent time looking closely at the stone wall and was suddenly overcome with emotion and sadness for the stones that felt trapped in the concrete that was holding them in place. Perhaps it was my own projection, but I am sure I will never look at a rock wall the same again. 

It was during our sharing that Amala mentioned that she had felt something in that very same area, which had moved her to chant a different oli. Other participants shared feelings of death and decay and grief. One member of our group shared that her experience could be summed up by the words “death and grandeur” which we all agreed was a very fitting theme for our practice. Together, we created art, and shared a poem to close our ceremony, and we left feeling uplifted, connected, and grateful despite the challenges we are facing as a global community. We hoped our attention and love offering to this place with such a layered history was well-received by the land and ancestors.