Mrs. Chang’s Pikake (jasmine flower): Da Love Story of Sky and Sea   4/8/18

The first and last time I talked with Mrs. Chang was at my sister’s memorial service. The service was held at the public beach park called Salt Pond. The beach is a small, intimate, calm, not so hidden treasure of island life. With today’s invasive guide books and smart phones with satellite maps, anyone can find it, but few appreciate its true beauty. Fortunately, it has not been listed among the top 10 tourist destinations in the world.

Mama Kauai still guards her treasures in unknown, unexpected moments. A moment was shared with Mrs. Chang. I immediately recognized her seated on a park bench along the borders of the large open air pavilion. The pavilion would serve as the church for our sister’s memorial. The park employees volunteered to move picnic tables from the few smaller pavillions to help seat the guests which numbered about fifty close friends and family members. It was such a kind gift of hard labor and loving generosity from the park service. They offered to help without being asked by anyone. The beach itself and the ceremony that followed became a humble and glorious place of worship. Together we shared our “Aloha”, bidding a fond farewell to our sister Gwen.

Mrs. Chang found the coolest spot to sit. I could see her flurry of splendid white hair casually blowing in da breeze. Her daughter, Rev. Lani’s white hair was equally splendid though more carefully coifed because of her ministerial duties to follow. Both Rev. Lani and Rev. Daphna were together presiding over the memorial service. They were among our sister’s dearest friends and “Sisters in Christ,”as our mother would say of their relationship.

When I sat across Mrs. Chang, welcomed by her smile and soft, discrete presence, I felt a sense of honesty and reverence for life which needed no words or outward gestures. It was simply her being there, sitting quietly, letting me know all is well now and in the hereafter. She spoke briefly about her childhood with 17 siblings. I couldn’t disguise my shock. Nearly giggling in unison, she began talking story, inviting me to visit her happy childhood. For a moment, we were both children again. I was allowed to play in her backyard of memories.

She remembered her father bringing home lots of poi. Poi is the native Hawaiian staple made from taro root. It is a nourishing, cherished and revered part of traditional Hawaiian food. Mr. Chang was a stevedore loading and unloading ships at Port Allen in Hanapepe Bay. Hanapepe Bay is one of only 2 ports deep enough to harbor cargo ships. Like the ships he loaded and unloaded, Mr. Chang made sure his family was well supplied. Mrs. Chang’s mother was the Captain of a small brigade of children, efficiently organizing, training, feeding and loving them all. “We ate in shifts,” she said, showing rare pride in her smile.

The family grew exponentially. Mrs. Chang, over 90 yrs old, is among a handful of siblings still alive. Later, Rev. Lani told me, between all the 17 Aunts and Uncles there are approximately 56 first cousins and too many grandchildren and great grandchildren for her to keep an accurate tally. Lani also said, at the end of the service, at lunchtime, a whale was seen at the far off horizon, jumping up into the sunlight. My eyes were probably too blurred with tears for me to notice the gift from the horizon. I imagined Mrs. Chang’s many departed siblings, as well as my own departed siblings applauding the display of mammoth joy from a heavenly park bench. I remembered this moment when I learned Mrs. Chang had died a few months following our sister’s death. It kept me from, again, crying too much.

The loss of Mrs. Chang brought me to her home. Rev. Lani asked me to be the caretaker of her mother’s old family home in Hanapepe heights where I now happily reside. Mrs. Chang has physically departed, but her spirit is here, planted in her yard, always warm and welcoming. Although, as adults, we only talked story once, we somehow became lasting friends in the playground of her childhood memory. Our childhood spirits cohabit this lovely old home. What is truly remarkable is the return of her pikake plants. In the front yard, protected by a low stone wall, stands a sturdy, 3 foot pikake (jasmine flower) bush. Until it blooms, it seems like an ordinary, easily ignored, green bush.

It was late winter, when I just moved here and decided to do some weeding in the front yard. I did not think much about the short, 3 ft. green bush standing at the corner of the stone wall. It was just all the weeds around it and covering the border of the stone wall that bothered me. Upon further slow weeding, I could imagine the presence of something more than weeds standing between the bushes. There were a few other pretty, but commonly found flowering bushes sharing the corners of the stone wall. They had tiny flowers that painted cute splashes of orange, red and yellow against the somber black stones. The grassy lawn was kept back a few feet from the wall with a curvy black plastic border hidden by the lawn. Whatever was here must have died a while ago leaving a blank space in between the bushes. Then, after more lazy weeding, enjoying a warm day, after a cold, rainy night, I noticed little snippets, 2 inch sprouts of dark, thumb size, oval green leaves. Clearly they were not of the normal weed variety, so I dug around them. Soon, I found more of them, scattered here and there. The leaves were identical to the lonely green bush at the corner of the stone wall. The little sprouts, though tiny, stood firm and strong. The dark green oval leaves were thick and leathery smooth, with the polish of expensive ladies shoes. After further attention, I found them attractive to the eye and touch. I marked each little sprout with random stones from the yard.

Then that first Spring, in Mrs. Chang’s front yard , at Easter, they bloomed. The lonely green bush was not alone. It was covered with delicate white blossoms, Pikake, the Hawaiian word for Jasmine flower. It’s fragrance is unforgettable, both pungent and sweet. It’s flower is fragile and ephemeral, lasting only long enough to close your eyes and breathe in the freshness of first love, to exhale and open your eyes, only to find it gone, leaving you longing for more. The Pikake is a rare flower in Hawaii. The usually seen, but still hard to find, single Pikake is shaped like an oval teardrop, with the luster of a silken pearl. The single flowers are sewn in long, necklace like strands for leis worn only for very special occasions like weddings and graduations. The even more rare double Pikake is almost never seen. A gardener’s treasure; it’s shape is like a bursting star, feathery to the touch, instantly bruised , then gone. Their fragrance is most intense under the gaze of the full moon, infusing dreams with the scent of true love.

 

 

In my dreams, this spring, Mrs. Chang’s hidden treasure shared a story:

 

HO’OMAKA (begin)

********************************

Da Love Story of Sky and Sea

A pearl below and a star above fell in love. Down in the depths of the Pacific Ocean, a young pearl was forming in the safety and comfort of her mother’s rock hard, protective shell. Inside, the most delicate and beautiful of undersea creatures was forming, a pearl was born. From the beginning, the young pearl felt an annoyance, it felt irritating, yet somehow pleasurable. Knowing nothing of pleasure nor annoyance, only knowing the safety of her mother’s shell, she somehow understood the strange feelings of conflict helped her grow. Her mother silently watched and nurtured her beloved pearl, knowing she would eventually become a great beauty , a shining secret from the very bottom, the darkest depths of the sea.

One evening, high in the sky, the unseen moon was full and from far above she heard an enchanting sound. Not knowing anything of the sky above, whether or not it was day or night, sound or silence, a song emerged from her innocent soul. The vibration of which traveled at light speed touching the heart of her lover above, the star of twilight, the first star to appear when darkness fell each night. The vibration was so subtle, sincere and deep, neither was her mother nor the waters surrounding her disturbed.

The only disturbance felt was in the heart of her first love, the twilight star. Finding his true love under the sea, his only consolation and joy was hearing her song responding to his. Over uncharted, enchanted timelessness their songs became a duet, known only to them, sung in the private romance of the full moon.

When the young pearl finally reached maturity and twilight star could no longer wait to see her, they messaged each other in song, choosing to meet on the shores of Mama Kauai. Mama Kauai had been listening to their songs from the beginning and knew one day their souls would meet somewhere between sky and sea. There would be no place better than upon Her shores.

They met at dawn. The sun was blinding. Their songs led them to embrace and their souls awakened. The vibration of their music was so gentle and loving, every shore heard them like the sound of waves kissing each grain of sand. All earthly creatures were unknowingly overjoyed that morning. Each awoke chirping, crowing or whistling a new love song they learned in their sleep.

In the midst of their embrace, pearl and star felt a powerful pull from their opposite origins, below and above, threatened to separate them. The horizon called to them to come and rest, finding a safe place between sky and sea. Only in the arms of eternal sleep, souls embraced, singing in their dreams forever, could they find peace. Calm and still, pausing in the middle, nothing could ever pull them apart.

Before departing Mama Kauai, they planted two seeds in their earthly paradise. The first would grow and blossom into the lovely single Pikake. The second would grow and blossom into the enchanting double Pikake. Their flowers would spread across the sister islands, reminding all of the pure, fragile beauty of innocence and the fragrance of true love.

PAU (finish)

**********************************************

When I weed Mrs. Chang’s Pikake plants, I think of her. I see the reflection of both her Chinese and Hawaiian heritage. The sturdy, resilient quality of the leaves and branches remind me of her practical and subdued poetic nature. The hint of romance sparkling in her eyes, the superbly delicate nature of her smile and her quiet elegance remind me of Pikake in bloom. Branch and bloom feel like the divine mystery of grace and the struggle of enduring love. Just for a moment, they are balanced by the breath of embrace. It all happens in her yard, once again, each day, welcoming me home.