How might your days shift if you practiced living with aloha, choosing love over hate and kindness over frustration in every interaction?
We’re coming to the end of our three-week trip to Hawaii, and what an amazing three weeks it has been. The main reason R and I came out here was to attend a ten-day retreat; however, we figured that, since we had come so far, it would be nice to take some time to explore the islands (which, I discovered, to R includes visiting every location where the TV show Lost was filmed).
Hawaii is an extraordinary place. Yes, I understand the underlying tensions that have come from the U.S. occupying and taking control of these islands. Setting that aside for the purpose of this reflection, the energy here is like no place I have visited before. Being on the most remote island group in the world and 10 hours behind the UK, the news feels far away and I find I have more space to think and dream. I feel like I’m on another planet.
People who live here often talk about this concept of “living with aloha” (one waiter defined it as always love over hate, always). It’s a life philosophy based on love, compassion, mutual respect, harmony and balance, and community and connection. I can feel this aloha in every encounter I have – from the AirBnB host who helped us move to a new flat after some noise issues (“no worries, these things happen, we want you to have a restful stay”) to the friendly shopkeeper who shared stories about how people in her town all collectively look after the kids. At the beach, I feel perfectly safe leaving my bag while I go for a swim, unconcerned that someone will steal my phone or my car keys. Not only do people treat each other with kindness and respect, but they also show that same level of care for the land. Never have I been somewhere so clean – no litter on the roads, pristine beaches, all driven by a real sense of connection to place.
Perhaps it’s easy to live with aloha on a beautiful tropical island – easier than in, say, the concrete jungle of New York or the long dark winters of London. Still, we all have a choice about how we interact with other people and the world around us. We can honk our horn when another driver tries to cut in, or we can give them some space. We can snap at our partner in frustration, or we can take a breath and acknowledge the positive intention behind their action. We can walk by that empty fast-food container someone else left in the park, or we can pick it up and put it in the bin.
I love this poem by Boris Novak for his simple reminder that we can always decide to live with aloha, choosing kindness, empathy, and care in each encounter we have. If you are feeling despair about the world right now, perhaps a little more aloha will help create some space and easefulness in your day.
