Act 2 Scent 3: Ladybug
Updated: Aug 18
Love under a magnifying glass ~
My heart has sung along the melodies of countless love ballads—defining and refining, layering and sculpting, glazing and glowing—as if our melodies of love can be molded like clay. Yet at times the ceramic of love remains unfinished, awaiting another transformative flame. Digging deeper into my emotional depths, I find beneath the fragile surfaces of our tempered selves lies a concealed blindness and unrealized mystery, dormant within the dampness of the heart.
Whether healing or kneading our souls, the goal is to give rise again the dough within us. Where can we relearn how to love authentically and kindly, and accept love with compassion and empathy? Perhaps, the answer lies in our beginnings, and there is no better place for me to rediscover the purity and spiritual connection of love than the place where I was born: Hawai’i.
“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.”
— George Augustus Moore, The Brook Kerith: A Syrian Story
A destination is more than just an arrival, it’s a peaceful presence and understanding of the moment. Hearing the musical notes of Hawai’i woven in Maui’s Road to Hana and long stretches of Kamehameha Highway towards North Shore—a gentle breeze of lightheartedness, kaiāulu, surfed me quietly toward my own lighthouse. In the spotlight, was one of the island’s main anchors of love, the charm of the Hawaiian jasmine known as pikake (pronounced pee-kah-keh).
During my quest to find the beloved jasmine, I prematurely misidentified the suspect, the white crown flower (Calotropis giantea), among the floral lineup. Even in awe of its uniqueness, I was already questioning its beauty for it did not have the floral essence that I was expecting. While over thinking and second guessing myself within the process, I knew it was the wrong flower.
I continued my search along Kalākaua Avenue for the prized jasmine. Sometimes what we are searching for is closer than we think. Like love itself, I ultimately discovered that a box of pikake (made by a local lei maker) was waiting for me all along, resting in a floral refrigerator inside a food court, just steps from my hotel.
Uncertain of my worthiness, I was initially hesitant to smell the delicate flower. Yet, with an impatient curiosity and a sense of improbable possibility, I paused and reassured myself. My heart whispered, “I’m here, and I’ve made it”. I opened, leaned, and breathed. The fragrance brought a softness to my heart. Whether it’s the soil, the air, the wind, the sun, the native scent seemed to rise differently here.
Pikake’s innocent peach honey has a pure sweetness which seems to strike that one forgotten chord. Each tiny floret delicately opening the heart for love and emotional connection. Named by the elegant Hawaiian princess, Princess Kaʻiulani, pikake translates to “peacock”, since the flower reminded her of the spots on a peacock’s feather. Its purity and aromatic presence is woven together in fragrant leis to welcome a deeper love and intimate communion with the heart of the island.
Our recognition of love is shaped through our life experiences, how we receive and give it while evolving and growing as a person. This is what makes love a fascinating emotion that is worth investigating because there are times when we can feel really good about love, and also moments when we lose a sense of how to define love for ourselves.
Learning to write the lyrics on how to love again has been a vulnerable life journey. When the pages of the calendar flipped to each summer season, I gravitated towards the island with a soothing ask for nurture. Each emotional knot slowly loosening its grip of the heart. An unfolding hopefulness to lean on, bridging relationships that were never given the chance to sprout, take root, or blossom.
Swimming out far enough into the ocean, I began to understand the waves are not to prevent you from going further out. They are there to cradle you back and forth, gently easing you onward. A desired space where your heart can float and not feel so heavy that you sink. Just the perfect amount of buoyancy to feel the depths of love, and begin to hum the tunes…
…of an easier ballad toward harmony.
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