I believe the power of hula, the dance that spans across generations and ethnic backgrounds. Our souls are strung together with the same ancient chants. We sway to the same rhythm of ancient voices that call to us from beyond the veil, coaxing us gently into a new realm of consciousness. As the cadence of the drums quicken as do our heartbeats matching the fast-paced steps. Our feet pound, bodies sway, skirts fly and our hands relate stories of guardian spirits and long ago kings. We are transported to the Hawaii of old if only for a brief moment.
Or, the songs become more melodic. We now dance to the rhythm of the ukulele and guitar. No longer are we bound by ancient tradition, rituals or protocols, we are free to be playful, even flirtatious. With my hula brothers and sisters a lei of friendship is formed that transcends war, national boundaries or languages. We speak the same language of hula in Hawaii, Japan, Mexico, Sweden or Germany. We hear the same songs, do the same steps. We sing of rodeo cowboys or surfer boys. We tell of the flowers of the islands or the special places in Hawaii.
Such is the magic of aloha, the spirit of hula.
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