Hawaiians use “aloha” with abandon. I’ve heard it for “hello” and “goodbye,” but, once on Kau’ai, I heard it on numerous occasions in between. The blogger Curby Rule analyzed it as follows:

alo, 1. sharing 2. in the present
oha, joyous affection, joy
ha, life energy, life, breath
Using Hawaiian language grammatical rules, we will translate this literally as “The joyful sharing of life energy in the present” or simply “Joyfully sharing life”.
(http://www.huna.org/html/deeper.html)

They speak of the “aloha” of the islands, the welcoming spirit that invites the mainlanders on board. To a mainlander it might seem a little hokey, but it seems to be taken seriously by the natives.

Before we even reached our condo, we stopped at a beach with rolling waves right off a postcard. One fisherman with a typical short, squarish Hawaiian build was pulling in his line after a morning’s work, and we asked him about his luck. “Nothing today,” he said in the teeth of a brisk wind, but then proceeded to tell us about his good and bad days on the beach, pulling out his cell phone to show us a thirty-pound specimen from one of his good days. Pretty soon we heard about his family, his work, and his future retirement, framed by questions about our visit and plans for our vacation. Improbably his name was “Fish.” He wished us a good vacation and packed up his truck for the day. We had a taste of “aloha” in the first hours we were on the island.

The next morning Kathy and I and our guests, Karen and Gail, rose early for an 8:30 service. We found Christ Memorial Episcopal Church in Kilauea about five miles east of us. As we entered the church we were graced with knitted leis to signify we were visitors, and before the service began, we were asked to introduce ourselves. Not surprisingly about 25% of the congregation were here on vacation. We were repeatedly invited to stay for pancakes after the service at the church hall till it seemed rude to turn away. We spent an hour after church getting briefed on good places to visit and restaurants to try out, not to mention meeting delightful company. Aloha to you, too.

That afternoon we attended a slack key concert in Hanalei, demonstrating the sweet and languid tones of Hawaiian-style guitar music, with meditations on the “aloha” spirit of the native culture going back two hundred years, when the first American mainlanders explored the islands. The music itself was mesmerizing; Kathy compared it to physical therapy and headache release. The performers made sure we understood the inclusiveness of the culture and the welcome implicit in the music.

We played the music our whole time on the island. It was hypnotizing to the point that I got lost trying to find my destination while the CD was playing in the car. I had to turn it off to get myself oriented.

Our involvement with the native islanders was “aloha” like this for our two-week stay on Kau’ai. Yes, there was the occasional impatient driver who pulled around us and sped ahead, and the occasional eye-rolling if we didn’t get directions for the third time, but really these were glaring exceptions. Most Hawaiians seemed to have read the rule book and followed hospitality to the letter and spirit of the law.

So we were dazzled with “aloha,” whatever it might mean to each local resident. We always felt like guests, not tourists, and we gradually fell in love with the people and their inclusive, low-key, and lyric sense of living. Whatever this “aloha” spirit included, we needed more of it in our lives.

So “aloha” followed us home, and we have tried to cultivate it here in the pulsing rust-belt. It’s a rather fragile flower, and we don’t know if it cares for the climate.