FROM MAUI, HAWAII

Between Two Volcanoes

Walking with Camille Saint-Saëns

MAUI, Hawaii, Jan 1, 2006 - The haunting tune of Camille Saint-Saëns’ piano piece, Gnossiene No. 1, was merging with the sounds of the crashing waves.  One tone was tranquil, sedate… the other violent, aggressive.  Yet they complemented, more than competed with, each other.  Phonetic polar balance, I thought, another example of the nature’s yin-yang[1] principle at work.

It was New Year’s Eve 2005 and my last beach walk of the year (Kihei Beach lines the eastern end of the Auau Channel whose “au” is pronounced in Hawaiian as the “ow” in an owie).  A big wave washed up ashore, lifting the water level to above my knees.  I scurried higher up the beach so my CD player would not get soaked.  That would be the end of Saint-Saëns’ or any other soothing music.  It actually happened to me the day before.  I practically had to put the player through a dryer before it would work again.

As I looked up ahead toward the Haleakala volcano, it dawned on me.  It's not just the sounds; the whole island of Maui is bipolar.

On the island’s east side, lies the dry and cold “house of the sun.”  That’s what the 11,000-foot Haleakala means in Hawaiian.  On the west side, is the warm and wet Puu Fukui, a 5,800-foot extinct volcano.  The “house of the rain” would be an apt name for it.  The surrounding area gets about 300 inches of rainfall per year.

Neither place is particularly welcoming or appealing.  Yet the valley the middle, where I was walking between the two craters, is brimming with life, beauty and joy.  It is one of the most fertile areas I have ever seen.  This is where the birds chirp, sugar cane is grows, and gentle northerly breezes cool the air off.  The lush green valley that lies between the two volcanoes seems like an offspring of Haleakala, the “father,” and Puu Kukui, the “mother.” 

I wondered if the natives ever contemplated that… “Two mutually interdependent and constantly interacting polar energies sustain all living organisms,” is how the ancient Chinese saw it.  I know Dan Brown did in his “DaVinci Code.”  Except that he talked of the “chalice” and the “blade” as female and male symbols.  Naturally, my mind also wondered off to “When Genders Collide…”-piece that carried a similar message.  I had just finished it a few hours earlier. 

It seemed as if bipolarity was omnipresent here on Maui.  I wondered what sort of a message God was trying to give me.  Maybe it was that it is good to be in the middle; feeling centered, balanced?  That’s where things are calm, as they are in the eye of a storm, or at the fulcrum point of a swing set.

By that time, Saint-Saëns had faded away, probably annoyed that he did not command my exclusive attention.  Instead, another hauntingly sad tune entered my consciousness.  It was the “Gullum’s Song” from “The Lord of the Rings,” with some of the most depressing lyrics ever written. 

“Enough sentimentality for one day!” I said to myself, turning off the CD.  “Especially on the last day of the year.”  Instead, I welcomed back the sounds of the crashing waves.  At least they get you out of your head by forcing you to pay attention so they don’t clobber you.  Maybe that was the second message… “keep your eyes on the ground before you, not on the pie in the sky.”  

That sounded like good advice, wherever it came from.  But it also reminded me of Frederick Langbridge: “Two men look out through the same bars: One sees the mud and one the stars.”  It was another example of polarity, opposites, relativity...

I was glad my walk between the volcanoes was almost over.  I was getting exhausted… mentally.  It’s a good thing these two are extinct volcanoes, I thought.  I dreaded to think what kind of a charge I would get from active ones. J

Still it was a productive walk.  Rather than having to rack my brains with New Year's resolutions, as so many people seem compelled to do, I got my marching orders for 2006 handed to me quite succinctly: “Stay centered and focus on short-term goals.”

In other words, stick to basics and big things will take care of themselves.  "Blocking and tackling, no 'hail Mary' passes," would be the football analogy.  At least that’s what I took home from the beach and the volcanoes. Thanks, Haleakala and Puu Fukui.

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