Hula Lesson

Slowly

Always slowly

As you would tell a story

Slow and grateful

This woman in the song ––
Song from 1940’s ––

She is telling  the story

Of  how kindly she was welcomed

When she visited Kauai

A story that goes from the mind

to the Heart

(Heart gesture)

From the heart it flows into dance

Out from the heart

(Sharing gesture)

Call me Analou

I am a master teacher

If you call me Andrew

it means you knew me in high school

Call me Analou

it means our connection is hula

Story about how she was greeted

And treated

Kindly

by the people of Kauai

Yes, Guest-friendship.

I know about that.

The hands the flowing arms

Soft and curving

Now with the feet, body

Sinuuous like letter S

Barefoot, he shows us the first

Steps

Rolling hips

We roll too

On the land and sea of the story

Up into the mountains, then

Kauai means beautiful

Kauai is the beautiful island

Yes I know that.

My beautiful friend lived there.

She danced there.

Now hands and arms and feet together

Telling the story

Four types of steps

And the house

(Make the roof with your hands)

And the land and the sea

Rolling waves

And the palm tree

(Sway the arm)

And the music!

And I’m trancing.

Trancing-dancing

Quickly

Like a current:

Electrical

I feel it move through me

This has power

That makes me slightly

Dizzy

“Do you have anything for balance?” says Jim.

We’ve opened this class up to seniors

with Parkinsons, to the

the Parkinsons community

So the tradition

Spreads more widely

But balance

Is something we all need

No big steps

Only step as wide as your body

Step beneath your body

Not beyond it,

Building a firm foundation

Now with the hips

There should be a delay

You should be

Waiting

For hips to roll

His are beautifully round.

Mesmerizing actually.

And he has a beautiful smile.

Going around the room

Putting hands on our waists

We sway, he sways behind

He has me put my hands on his

Waist

He sways  I sway behind

Like Baby in Dirty Dancing

Only there’s nothing dirty here,

In or out of quotations

We all need balance.

My friend found hers

On Kauai.

Like the woman in the song

She was greeted

And treated kindly.

She was a dancer.

She would have learned hula.

Hips don’t lie:

Hers never did.

In Florida her entire ceiling was covered

With paper and ceramic

Butterflies

Dangling from strings.

A feminine symbol:

Soul symbol.

She crossed country.

And the land and the sea

Came to California

Visited me

In Yosemite she climbed up

To Bridal Veil.

Her forced marriage,

Shame, illness and six-week coma

That ended on Thanksgiving Day

All distant memories.

In Yosemite she photographed a

Butterfly on the trail,

Patiently waiting, zoom

Extended, till wings

Erect, pressed together

Parted to reveal

Nature's dazzling design.

“I hope you lose your baby,”

her mother told her.

The next day she did.

“I’m glad there’s one nice girl left,”

her mother told me.

I didn’t want to be.

We all need balance,

Would you believe I suffer

From vertigo?

So I had to learn this for myself:

To build a firm

Foundation

So you don’t fall

We don’t want any falls

In here

We climbed to Bridal Veil

Falls together.

I hoped she would stay,

My childhood friend

Since we were three.

But she went on to the beautiful island

Where hips don’t lie:

Hers never did.

So many lovers.

She was beautiful you see.

And the land and the sea

Rolling waves rolling hips

And up into the mountains

And the house

(make the roof with your hands)

At long last the little house

That still stood after the hurricane,

Little house that she shared with a friend.

Homeless, she took him under her roof.

Her house was warm and dry.

He was hungry and she gave him to eat

According to the laws of Guest-friendship:

Yes, she knew about that.

Little house that she shared,

First with a friend made homeless

By the storm,

And the house

(Make the roof with your hands)

Little house that she shared

With the man friend before

And after their wedding

Marriage not forced,

This time

Husband and lover

One and the same,

This time

And the land and the sea

Story comes to the heart

And we share it

(Heart gesture)

And rolling hips

like Baby

in Dirty Dancing,

only nothing is dirty,

This time.

(Sharing gesture)

With the hands

Make the gesture

And rolling hips

Swaying in rhythm

Because hips don’t lie:

Hers never did.

And the land and he sea

And the rolling waves

This poem is dedicated to Jeanne Warburton

                                      (August 30, 1949 – August 20. 2003)
                                      with abiding love and lasting admiration.