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What If A Blank Canvas Helped You Define Your Voice?

Could you imagine a blank canvas defining your voice? It was 1-1/2 years ago when I faced my first blank page.  Though it had glimpses of color, for the most part it was uneventful.
April of 2018 I went home to help my sister and her daughter prepare for Punahou’s Mo’olelo Kakou Holuku Pageant. It was during this time, I opened the door to a wonderful, exhilarating and purposeful way to share my voice.  I was clueless until I was completely emerged and engrossed in the magic that comes with helping the Kealoha ‘Ohana. Like the first dive in the ocean when the 78 degree soft, sultry pacific ocean washes over your body.
What I should clarify is the things I did were the same as 1000 times before. The places that welcomed me home, welcomed me home every return. The people I saw were the people I saw every trip. The pau hana’s were pau hana’s which never failed to renew lifelong purpose.
So what was different? I was. I clearly was. Without realizing the start and finish of the transformation, I was completely, 100% in a place my parents always envisioned.
A person who arrived with generations of substance. A person who absorbed every single lesson one Kealoha way at a time. A person who blended Western and Hawaiian culture with a little bit of stubbornness and an ocean-full of intention.
A person who is willing and able to share. To share a life worth living, to share living in the lives. To share substance, foresight, and cultural relevance. My incredible journey as the eldest sibling of the Moses and Ulu Kealoha clan was front and center.
My voice was pure, honest and it was me. It washed over the blank pages like the crest of a wave wrapping itself over, around, it’s willing by-stander. Suddenly returning home at that particular time and for that purpose, opened the window. I wanted people to enjoy, learn and appreciate my family one Kealoha way at a time.
The many, many hours of family practice and cultural traditions, made sense. Finally it had a purpose outside of family or cultural intentions. The routine and endless hours of ‘do it again, again, again’ now gave me purpose. Could a blank canvas define your voice?  For me, the blank canvas welcomed the places, the people, the traditions. It welcomed the culture, the practices with open arms. It welcomes the HIS-STORY, one Kealoha way at a time.
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