‘Aumakua whisper in my ear.

I want to ride the lightning.

In the shower this morning, an entire story burst into my head. It’s a post-apocalyptic tale set in Hawaii and told from the perspective of a young local girl who learns to survive through traditional Hawaiian ways as taught by her grandfather. She’ll have to be very, very clever.

I think it’s partially Mauna Kea on my mind.

Before we can create the world we want to live in, we have to first imagine it, and then believe it’s possible. That’s the power of story. It seeps into subconscious cracks. Without saying it baldly, a story like this says, “Of course, Hawaiians thrive in the future, and their culture flourishes. Duh! A return to internalizing traditional values can help heal the world.”

But.

There is always a but.

So much else to do today. Deadlines are looming on other projects. I just…can’t.

But I see you, little one, standing in the shadows, with your puka shirt and “Wot? I owe you money?” look in your eye. You have a lot to tell me.

I want to listen and talk story with you.

Soon, titah. Promise.