Sunday was a misty, rainy day in Manhattan. Blessings raining down upon us.
My sweet husband and I took the bus from Harlem’s Hamilton Heights to Battery Park City’s North Cove Marina to welcome the crew of the Hokule’a which had arrived in New York Harbor the previous afternoon, a little ahead of schedule, on its voyage around the world, the Malama Honu’a.
As the leaders of indigenous people of this part of the world (the REAL Native New Yorkers, like the Shinnecock and the Lenape nations) welcomed the Hawai’ians voyaging around the globe on their mission of Aloha, I was moved by the powerful feeling of connection.
Connected to ancient traditions in modern settings. Connected to my beloved Manhattan Island as I know it and as it has existed for its indigenous peoples. Connected to the grief of being sidelined and marginalized. Connected to the Aloha of people coming together to protect and preserve our Planet.
As I connected to these outer expressions of Oneness, I sat under the umbrella in the pounding rain, and connected within, to that Aloha and peace anchoring my daily existence.
And it was Good.