Joy Harjo's Web Log

Began the day with an hour and a half paddle from Anuenue in Waikiki to Keeihi Lagoon. The surf was up. We paddled beyond the break and then over. Beautiful. Could see the bottom most of the way over. When I first paddled out from Anuenue seven years ago the water was clear and blue. This morning as we launched the canoe it was filthy. Sad. And no turtles. When I first went out we'd see several. The last few times I've paddled out in this direction haven't seen any. Did see tourist boats, plenty of surfers.

The regatta season training has started so we're paddling every chance we get. And hitting the gym. Makes a good contrast with writing, practicing and doing business in my room up here on the hill. A little balance.
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It's late. Just returned from hearing LeAnne Howe read from The Shell Shaker and her new book, Evidence of Red at UH at the Center for Hawaiian Studies. Nice to have another Mvskoke person in the neighborhood, though the Choctaws and Creeks are old enemies. The thing about enemies is that they can become very familiar. You start to know them as well as you know your close beloved relatives. If you didn't care you wouldn't think about them at all. I think that's how it works. With the calamity of colonization we became allies.

All through the reading I kept hearing frogs. After went out behind the halau to the lo'i where the frogs were chanting in the waning moonlight:

The songs of frogs are compelling. They live between earth and water, are transformational figures. Come and I will show you how to move between here and there, out of your mind.

Tonight, behind the halau in the waning moon you were calling me. Being human was no longer as compelling as the lush, singing world.

The sound of making love are the same as giving birth and sometimes dying. All cries of longing.

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And so it is.