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Kukaniloko Birth Stones

Kukaniloko Birth Stones

Last week, Luke and I visited another “spot on the map”, Kukaniloko, the sacred birth stones of Oahu.  We’ve since found out many locals have not visited this spot although it is one of the most sacred places in Hawaii.

For over 800 years, the ancient royals gave birth on the stones, ensuring high regard for the newborns. The chiefs witnessed the birth and ceremonially cut the umbilical cord then pledged their support to the newborn.

No one else was at the spot when we arrived at the small parking area just off Route 80, directly opposite Whitmore Avenue.  If we hadn’t seen the marker on our map, we would have thought we were driving into a pineapple field.  We drove past the drive and had to double back.  A very worn, small King Kamehameha marker on the north side of the drive directed us in.

The parking lot was dirt, the iron-rich red soil common in the area.  It had rained earlier, so we stepped carefully.

The path to the grove of eucalyptus trees that house the birthing stones is about 300 yards long.  It may have been my imagination, but I swear I cold feel the echoes of labor pains as I walked it.  How many royal mothers were carried over this same path, their bodies twisted in labor as their child struggled to be born?

Trade winds shook tree leaves as we walked among the stones.  Small puddles of rainwater lay in the indentations carved by the feet of the birth retainers, who stood on the stones as they braced the mother.

Kukaniloko Birth Stones

A perimeter of stones circled the main area, a warning to keep out strangers.  We hardly spoke, the history of Kukaniloko pressed down on us.

Kukaniloko Birth Stones left me in awe

Few places I’ve visited that have left me with a profound sense of awe and history.  Monument Rocks, Kansas; South Point on Big Island; and Kukaniloko on Oahu.  They’ve left an indelible impression.

For more information, visit https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kukaniloko_Birth_Site

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I can help!  As of today, I passed the national and state real estate exams.  The national wasn’t any different than what we’d been taught in real estate school, but the state?  Man, I was sweating silver bullets.  For example, the first question was something along the lines of “HRS (Hawaii Real Estate Statue) 405B has implications on one of the following:”

Okay, we didn’t learn that.  There are over 30 pages of HRS, and we highlighted the good parts.  No way did we memorize each individual number.

But it’s over, my hitting the books every day for 3-4 hours counted for something, not to mention vocabulary words stuck on post-it notes in the bathroom and countless retaking of quizzes.  I will never, ever have to take the test again.

Bonus!  If you’ve read “The Power of Your Subconscious Mind” I cannot emphasize enough for you to get a copy.  It’s all about envisioning the end results as reality and cutting out the negativity.  (thinking “I want” or I need” sends out the message that you are in a perpetual mode of wanting and needing and you’ll never get ahead).

Anyway, last night I envisioned the words “You Passed”, and, for good measure, “Wealth”.  Today we received a very nice check from our old mortgage company.  Seems we overpaid our property taxed at closing and they reimbursed us for the overage.  Sweet!

Dinner tonight is on Citimortgage.

Blessings,

Cheryl

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The Road to Hawaii, or how we sold (almost) everything, quit our jobs and moved to Oahu, as told by one family who is experiencing the journey.

Mike the Honey Guy, and no, it’s not a euphemism.

This morning, I was flipping through my digital cookbook (www.shopnsave.com, amazing.  You can copy and paste recipes from magazine websites, sort by ingredients, create your own categories.  I digress).  Honey seemed to be an ingredient in most of the recipes I wanted to make.  So far, honey has been off our grocery list as $5.00 for a little honey bear bottle seemed a little steep.

The next best thing?  Do a Yahoo search for local farmer’s markets.  My first stop was a nearby honey farm  site that seemed to suit my needs.  It sold honey from mangoes and papayas and bananas and all things tropical.  But why, I asked myself, have it shipped to me when everything in Oahu is so close (distance not traffic).  I emailed the owner and asked if they sold their wares at any markets, grocery stores, surf shops, etc.

Less than a half hour later, my phone rang (set to Big Ben’s chimes) and Mike, the Honey Guy, was there to answer all my questions and give me the lowdown on the honey industry in Hawaii.  Apparently, it’s controlled by a drug honey cartel, which decides who and who won’t sell at said markets.  Mike gave me waaaayy too much information on the benefits of honey and how others mistreat it.  For example, leaving it in the hot sun, where it can heat to over 100 degrees, destroys something important and you’ll get instant diabetes.  At least, that’s what I thought he said.

We decided to meet in a nearby town at a drug drop store at 6:30.  I don’t know, but I think I’ve lost a gigajillion brain cells since moving.  It never occurred to me to ask for a description of Mike.  He’d be the guy with the drugs honey, right?

Six o’clock rolls around, and Aaron absconds with the car to escort Holli home from work.  It’s been raining all day, and the roads are slippery.  They slide home at 6:13, and Luke and I hit the road to the drug drop store.  Every light is red.  Have I mentioned every single intersection has four lanes of traffic with separate left turn lanes and it takes five minutes for your turn?  (I exaggerate) (not by much).

At 6:30 on the dot, we squeal into the drug drop store parking lot.  Luke circles around like he’s on a cattle drive while I look for a man selling drugs honey out of the back seat of a seedy looking van.  This is starting to sound like a mugging waiting to happen.

No Mike.  We hang around for a couple of minutes then Luke spots a guy sitting at a booth/picnic table (on the sidewalk?) and walks up to him.

“Are you the drug honey man?”

“Yes.”

“Are you Mike?  Do you have drugs honey?”

“No, that’s not me.  I’m a contract worker.”

“So you don’t have drugs honey?”

“No.”

Meanwhile, it’s still raining, and I’m trying to call Mike from the number I thought I’d programmed into my phone.  No such number exists.  I’m sure we’re going to be mugged, or Mike has some secret reverse phone number technology and is robbing our apartment while we’re getting drenched.

Finally, I figure out that I’d transposed two digits.  I read off the correct number and Luke calls him.

“Mike, hey, we’re at the drug drop store, and we’re waiting for you.  Oh?  Yeah.  Okay.  No, why don’t you call us when it’s convenient.? No, I don’t think we can swing by your house (it was pitch black by now)  Yeah, sorry to hear about your dad.  We’ll do this later.”

Me:  “What?”

“His dad died.”

WTF?  HIS. DAD. DIED.  What kind of flim-flam joint is he running?  I guess, when your dad dies, taking care of business tends to jump to the bottom of the priority list.  It happens.

We went home in the rain.  Without drugs honey.  I have a feeling I’ll have to change my phone number and email address.  Mike will stalk me until I buy his drugs honey.  I’ll be obligated to him for life for my drugs honey supply.

Sorry for your loss, Mike.  I bet your dad was a hell of a beekeeper.

Cheryl Sterling currently resides in Waikele (the more upscale neighborhood of the official city of Waihapu even though she isn’t).  You can find her books on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

9-21-12 a.m. Update!  Mrs. Mike is delivering drugs honey to my doorstep today.  I’m taking the knives out of the drawer.

9-21-12 p.m. Mrs. Mike is not coming.  I fear for her life.  She’s probably being held captive by the drug time honey lord.  Pray for her.

 

 

 

 

Cheryl Sterling currently resides in Waikele (the better neighborhood of the official city of Waihapu).  You can find her books on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

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