Huna Article
Huna International
Magic Brownies
by Peggy Kemp
I'd like to invite you to take an imaginary brownie off the plate and celebrate
with me. Huna has taught me a whole new way of looking at the concept of
"magic brownies". I grew up in the 1960's, when "magic" brownies described the
ones we made with pot in them. They had a variable action; they could make you
a little goofy and give you the munchies, or take you on quite a journey.
Well, this is the year 2000 and these brownies don't have pot in them, but I'd
like to take you on a little magic journey with me. I've made these brownies to
celebrate my new car partner, Emilia Lehua Mitsubishi Galant. She's elegant,
but she's got her quirks. I know we are going to be fast friends. At least if
she has her way... she likes to go fast. I also made
the brownies to celebrate
getting my first driver's license! In the last 2 weeks I have bought a car; had
it repaired to road safety level; practiced driving (and PARKING); took my road
test and yesterday I got my license! Today I dropped my sister off at the
airport; and went on to take the car in for a second scheduled repair. Then I
picked it up, drove it back to work, and
then drove home. It was the first
time I'd driven by myself in 4 years, and that was out in the deep country with
no traffic.
I'm 47 years old, and I've just gotten my first driver's license. Serge talks
about rituals on the Healer Training tapes, and one ritual he mentions is that
of getting your driver's license when you're a teenager. It's a rite of passage
into adulthood, even though it may not be celebrated as such. I'd like to go
the other direction and celebrate it as a rite of passage into
childhood, a
childhood filled with independence and adventure and fun, the childhood I
didn't have.
As a teenager, I was shy and gawky and scared of my own shadow. I took driver's
education and learned to drive; and I liked to drive very fast, but I didn't
get my license, because I didn't feel like I could see well enough. I thought
other drivers were probably crazy and not to be trusted. I let those two ideas
color my entire driving experience for the next 30 years. I had several
permits, and I drove out in the country, even on narrow mountain roads in a
truck loaded down with firewood, but I never got my license.
The first time I came to Kauai, I saw right away that I would eventually have
to drive, in order to fully explore the island. The second time, I took
taxicabs and spent a fortune getting out to the very end of the island, so I
could be out in my favorite parts by myself and find out if the Island wanted
me to live here. I also walked about 25 miles that week. The third time I got
off the plane, I was moving here.
I had a strong new dream, one that compelled me to leave my family, my oldest
and dearest friends and many new and equally dear ones, an interesting and
well-paying job, and a lovely garden to come to the Garden Island and study
Huna, hula, and tropical horticulture and healing with plants. A dream that
involved driving. Just before I left Seattle I had an appointment with my eye
specialist. He examined and tested my eyes thoroughly and told me that as long
as I wore my glasses, I was perfectly safe to drive. He looked me straight in
the eye and said, "The only thing that's keeping you from driving is YOU."
I began to dream a different dream, determined that my world included me
driving on Kauai. It included me driving my own car, a blue car with an
automatic transmission and a sun-roof. I decided to discard some limiting
thinking, some thinking that doubted I could do it. There are no limits to what
we can do, if we want to enough. I told myself I could do it; that now was the
moment. I got enthusiastic about it, and refused to listen when others wondered
if I could really do it. Instead I focused on the dream and sent energy to it.
I didn't want to wait any longer; I wanted it now, in this present moment. I
felt happy whenever I thought about how much fun it would be to be able to just
hop in my car and go wherever I wanted to, to be
spontaneous, to adventure out
on my own. I saw myself driving up to the Arboretum to be with the painted
eucalyptus trees and the big bullfrogs. I thought often about how much I'd
learned from needing to ask others for rides, for help and about how good it
would feel to be the one who could help others, do some of the driving for the
carpools to hula and talk story. I told myself many times that I had the inner
power it takes to do it. That was probably the main thing, believing in my own
moxie, instead of the little fear stories.
When I started looking for a car, the first one that came to me was a sporty
red Nissan Pulsar with a 5-speed manual transmission, T-top, a powerful stereo
system, and six speakers. A true rock and roll mobile. I fell in love with her
right off. I sat on the lanai and went to my garden and asked her what her name
was. "Kala," she whispered back. "Kala, freedom." I did a test drive and had a
lot of other people test-drive her, and was ready to have a mechanic look her
over. Even though the fellow who was selling her seemed like a straight-ahead
kind of guy, a really nice guy we all liked, he failed to show up on the day we
had an appointment with the mechanic, or return any of my calls. Was there
something seriously wrong with the car? Did he sell her to some one else?
Or was it because my intention all along had been to find a blue car with an
automatic transmission? I'll probably never know the answer to that one. Four
days later I decided I just had to quit wondering and get serious about finding
another car, and called a local dealership I'd been referred to. They'd just
gotten a car on the lot, hadn't even had it checked out or
cleaned up yet. If I
wanted to buy it, they would give me a significant discount. It was a blue
Mitsubishi with an automatic transmission and a sun-roof! I went down to the
lot, did a test-drive and within an hour had put down a deposit on her, with
the final purchase depending on the mechanic's evaluation.
She needed some repairs; they were open and honest about it and what it would
cost. Even with the repairs, it was less than the amount they would have sold
her for. I went in and wrote out a check and she went into the hospital. Three
days later, I drove her home.
The rest, as they say, is history. My dream has come true. I saw myself tooling
around the roads of Kauai in my own little car and now I'm doing it. Enjoy your
brownie, and while you're eating it, celebrate the idea that the world is what
we think it is.
Copyright Huna International 2000
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