माय स्पिरिट इस लिफ्तेद.

I am boggled by the nonsense we teach each other. Or maybe it is the only way to truly learn goodness, through each other. Reading between the lines I see obscure profanities of the peoples voice indulging in some good hearted muckraking. I leave myself as an empty shell of my past learnings, ready to be filled with genuine ingenuity and truth, existing only within each other. A garden is only as healthy as the seeds that are planted and sustained in the soil. A child is as strong as the community it looks back upon as an adult. What happened to the idea of becoming a part of a neighborhood? A community is formed by the roots, and I see everything in our culture pulling up the roots, revealing broken trunks of old trees that taught truly who a human ought to be. And then genuinely feel it. No faking necessary.

(end).

Here is a song I wrote for my dad the other day...

Ohana of Family.

My Dad always asked me to play my ukelele
But I was stubborn I'd do anything else
Until the day I met you I cried at your bedside
And then I realized we are all lost family

You are the Ohana of my dream
I feel us wrapped in our arms of love you see

I am waiting for the day I wake up and see all the people as one family
I understand I can't change the make-up of everyone that counts the penny's on the street

Oh use me up with your good good sharin'
I'll pass it on my way down stream
I hope you can stop to save your own children children's Ohana of family

And remember to find the true Ohana of your dreams
Wrap your arms around them with the love you really mean
Cause my Dad always told me to just play on my Ukelele
And now I get to share this story with all of you my Ohana of family