JENN TANAKA

PUBLISHED: December 14, 2017 | COAST Magazine |Orange County Register

I always wanted a boy. From the moment my husband and I saw that tiny cluster of cells on the sonogram screen, I knew I was staring at my son. His tiny heart pounded like a tribal drum mixed with the sound of waves.

My son was born a sensitive soul. Part of me hates that his feelings are hurt so easily, and when he cries I have to remember to be patient, even though it’s in my nature to tell him, “Toughen up!” In some ways, he’s not the boy I imagined.

Now, here he stands – a pint-size version of my husband and me – laughing and splashing in the crystal blue waters off the Four Seasons Resort O’ahu at Ko Olina. Hawai’i, especially O’ahu, always held a special place in my heart. In my youth, I danced in the moonlight on the sands of Waikiki, swam underneath waterfalls and stuffed my belly with plate lunches on the North Shore. But the island’s west side had remained a mystery to me. Our visit also marked my son’s inaugural trip to Hawai’i.

From my lounge chair, I zoned out, staring into the horizon. A warm breeze wafted in scents of sweet plumeria mixed with the salty ocean air. A wave of serenity washed over me as the condensation from my icy guava cocktail dripped onto my lap. Tick. Tick. Tick. The drips counted away the seconds as a purple orchid floated on top of my drink. My thoughts wandered back to that morning’s meeting with Auntie Nettie.

As guardian to the Lanikuhonua oceanfront estate that abuts the Four Seasons Resort, Auntie Nettie is the spiritual kahu for this protected sacred space “where heaven meets the earth.” Ages ago, the rock formations created natural ponds that gathered spring water, which ran down from the mountains and mixed with the free-flowing ocean. Lanikuhonua’s pristine 10-acre property melds the oceanfront beach with lush jungle. It’s a private space the Four Seasons deeply respects and shares with a few select guests.

The resort’s relationship with the locals, specifically those who grew up on the west side of O’ahu, is further nourished with the Four Seasons Wayfinders program.

Cultural artisans such as Niihau shell jewelers, flower lei craftswomen, Makau Nui artisans, organic farmers and hula dancers gather on-site on different days to share their knowledge with hotel guests.

On most Tuesday mornings, a few visitors will learn how to dance hula from the award-winning all-male troupe called Ke Kai O Kahiki. To these men, hula is more than a mere dance. Multiple times a week, they train like warriors on Auntie Nettie’s land. They harness their strength and fortify their muscles with ancient exercises, using natural materials found on the island. They grab boulders from the ocean and run for miles in the sand before plunging into the sea. Their muscles quiver with each step as the sweat drips like tropical rain across their faces.

“In ancient times, warriors would be selected from the best hula dancers,” says La’akea Perry, the group’s leader. He describes another exercise, which requires each man to scale a coconut tree with his bare hands and feet. To emphasize the gravity of the situation, they never use a safety harness. They may move their hips to the motion of the ocean, but there is no questioning the manliness of the Ke Kai O Kahiki.

Hawaiians long believed in the coexisting energies of man and woman. Everything has a counterpart. Hula dancing seems so feminine until you see the Ke Kai O Kahiki troupe’s movements. The ground trembles from the power of their steps. Yet their movements are so graceful, so fluid and so elegant.

On another morning, I joined Perry and one of his dancers on a hike to Ka’ena Point. “When someone passes away, this is the journey that their soul takes before they leap from the earth,” he said. “At the end of the hike there’s a point where the souls leave for all of eternity. When we visit here, we know this is a sacred place, and we must have permission for us to be here.”

The island’s west side looks and feels completely different than any other part of the island. “This side is noted for being dry,” said Perry. “The sun on this side is unlike any other place on the island. You feel it coming from the top and the bottom. But, the west side has a lot of stories and history. This is the most northwestern point on the island. It’s very secluded and untouched. The state of Hawai’i constructed a few walking paths, but the ocean here has been deemed pristine water.“

On our way back, we climbed down a rocky precipice. At the bottom, a natural tide pool had formed over the millennia. We swam like mermaids in the cool water as the waves lapped at my face. When we emerged from sea, I thought of Auntie Nettie.

Before we left O’ahu, Auntie Nettie blessed me at Lanikuhonua. “The pond here is called the Looking Glass,” she said. “Meditate here before you go.” She guided me to the water’s edge, where she chanted in Hawaiian, her deep voice echoing in my ears. Then she took my palms into her warm hands and pulled me close. She huffed warm breaths into my ears and my skin pebbled with goosebumps. Then, she whispered, “Call home.”

Her deep voice flooded every ounce of my being and tears filled my eyes. I thought of my mother back home, then of my son napping in our suite upstairs at the Four Seasons. I pride myself on never crying, but in this moment I couldn’t stop. I waded into the ocean and let my salty tears mix with the estuary waters. As I emerged, I felt rejuvenated. Auntie Nettie handed me a large ti leaf that carried a sacred prayer. “Take this back to the mainland,” she instructed me. “One day, promise you will return with this leaf. Release it here, back into our waters.”

In Hawai’i, the feeling of ohana is everywhere, past and future, this generation and the next. Before I left, I asked Auntie Nettie: How do you feel about the luxury developments surrounding Lanikuhonua?

“I see it as a way for our children to stay home. The developments bring jobs,” she says. “Our children can stay on the island. They can work on the west side where they grew up. Rather than leave for the mainland, they will have real opportunities here.” As we embrace each other one last time, I envision my son’s smiling face. A surge of confidence hits me. He has his own strengths. He’s kind and a trail of laughter always follows behind him. In the end, it all comes back to the children.
:: fourseasons.com/oahu