To shape the perspective, we first must capture Hawai'i as the epicenter within the framework of worldview.

About Michelangelo

My mother was born in Kailua, Oʻahu, and her grandmother hails from the island of Molokaʻi. Indeed, she was a strong prayer warrior and a revered kaula (prophet). Her name was Lorna Anuhea Kekuku. My father was born in Grand Junction, Colorado, but he was raised in Hawī, Kohala. I was born in Lüneburg, Germany, and raised on the Hāmākua Coast in the small village of Kukuihaele, within the ahupuaʻa of Ka ʻOhe. Kukuihaele is most famously known as a place where the Night Marchers roam. Yet, it is equally renowned as the home of the most skilled kahuna in their practices.

The waters I drink flow from Waipiʻo Valley, and the mountain that protects me is Mauna Kea. My family’s lineage intersects within this district through both my birth parents. How abundant is the blessing to have been nourished by the same life force my kūpuna consumed to thrive on this earth. How beautiful is the interconnectedness of the community that raised me, bound in shared paths of love and resilience.

Often, I sought refuge among the trees, finding solace with the flora, fauna, and the animal kingdom, especially during times when my alignment with self was ever so crucial. The roots of ancient trees embraced me with warmth, the wind whispered songs of wisdom, and my relationship with ʻīʻo (Hawaiian hawk) guided me to a depth of gratitude I had yet to realize. Within this sacred connection lies divinity itself—the great expanse of earth, sky, and sea. These are my constant teachers, raising me into the person I am and shaping the one I am yet to become.

Even as I traveled far from my motherland, I was never abandoned by my eternal teachers, who will endure beyond my lifetime and consume my final breath. Indeed, I will become one with the great expanse of their ever-growing knowledge.

Teachers and Lessons:

I have had many teachers—from my attendance at Kanu o ka ʻĀina, Honokaʻa High School, and Kamehameha Schools to the intrinsic lessons found where the river meets the ocean. They have gifted me spiritual tools and wings to guide me toward the right path through every chapter of my life. I extend my gratitude to all who have planted seeds in my upbringing and to those who will step into my life to lead me forward. It is my honor that you have taken a liking to my spirit, shaping its wonder to align with the light of our Great Creator.

A Call to Mauna Kea:

In 2015, I experienced a profound disconnection—from the westernization of my familial upbringing, the weight of many deaths, and the exhaustion of my spirit. But I was called to rise. A childhood teacher, Lanakila Mangual, who had nurtured me when Kanu o ka ʻĀina was still in Kawaihae, saw a Facebook post of mine as I searched for distractions in parties, having just graduated. With great mana, this māhū teacher commented with an assertion that stirred my piko and awakened my naʻau. He called me to stand for the protection of Mauna Kea.

Stirred was I, indeed. From the depths of my being, I felt the great calling to join the movement to protect Mauna Kea. Ascending to the summit among many, witnessing Lanakila in sacred fury and the works of a nation and its allies igniting a path toward sovereignty, I saw the greatest power my eyes had ever beheld. From that moment, I dedicated my life to being a vessel and servant of Mauna Kea, the sacred place where the gods walk, where life is birthed to nourish her people. My naʻau spoke with clarity: my life was no longer my own.

Return to the Motherland:

By 2016, I had moved to Austin, Texas, delving into new-age spiritualism, economic pursuits, and the frontlines of indigenous sovereignty movements. I prayed under the assault of industrial-grade water cannons in freezing temperatures, was maced numerous times, and bore witness to the resilience of sovereign nations as privatized police forces wielded violence against them. I studied plant medicines unfamiliar to my culture, broke bread with the spirits of endless lands, and gathered wisdom from indigenous tribes across Turtle Island.

As intricate as the pathways that unfolded before me, so too were the fragrant flowers gathered for the lei I would eventually offer to Mauna Kea. By 2018, despite achieving financial stability, the whispers of the wind, the scents of moku o Keawe, and the stirring of my naʻau called me back. The gentle nudges turned into an insistent command, and I surrendered to the inevitable. I prepared to return home.

the end of 2018, under the command of mama, and no further directions to what my next steps were to be. I found myself living the vagabond lifestyle awaiting for that time all would gather once again to protect the sacred. 2019, an altar built from those whoʻs love of the land is as staunch as my own. the house of prayer pitched traditionally by hands who live the life of their foremothers and fathers. that altar was desecrated by law enforcement and from that moment on with a quickening blow; all were summoned to take stand, to protect, and remain in sacred conduct by which the natural laws had demanded for the succession of great wave to rise.

i ascended up the puʻuhonua ʻo puʻuhuluhulu with no other, Lanakila. with only a backpack of essentials, a sleeping bag, a flute, and a large sacral Ver-berating pū ʻohe. five individuals in the night took to the frontlines and lay on the cold concrete for the first night of a long stand against foreign invaders. It was the evening that i looked upon the silhouette of mauna kea and my second potent vow was made; that i would not leave her side, to be tied to her waist of lāʻī, be a member of her embodied dance until she untied her pāʻū, and released me to the forest.

Five individuals the first night, some 2o the next, and then a constant of well over a million two-legged hawaiians and allies made their mark and vow. a great wave had ascended, those above had gone below, and those below had gone above. nine great months of potent ceremony, ceremonial hula four times daily, free education, free healthcare, free food, and a flourishing self-determining nation came out the caves they made home. covid hit, mental exhaustion ran as freely as blood in war, human bureaucracy, and the constant balancing act between a sovereign nation and fake state; indeed were the human left with no other choice, but to descend the mountain and stand on the frontlines. all but seven

after the nine months of the great wave of 2019, thereafter, remained the still oceans, and seven currents who too were called to be tied to her pāʻū. In the silence enlivened spirit. seven individuals with a specific purpose remained tied. As years went on, her lāʻī turned brown, ripened in brittle beauty, flew off her pāʻū as she commanded her skirt to dance, and by the end of 2023 remained all but one remained tied to her waist.

I am michelangelo kamakanamakalanimai kekuku from the first night war was incited upon the sacred I bared the weight of my vow. until she untied the pāʻū she had bound to her waist and offered me to the forest. There will be a day, once again, mauna kea, she must be adorned with her servants from near and far. from her throne with her maidens by her side and protector of a keen eye. cast moʻoinānea, her protector, matriarch of her kin, upon the branches below, dance to the beat of her pahu. the human to embody as ʻahinahina, lilinoe feeds the roots, she who floats a thick blanket of sacred water; transcends and takes form evening till day break. laka, who dances up to lewa lani. the dancer tells the story as kane pierces from above, to below, then below, above. Hina, she who bends the water and lights the night sky to the maps of antiquities. the adoration of love and insistent commitment to become more than human. The ultimate love of kūkahauʻula. It is I, Michelangelo, a dancer, chanter, descendant of piʻilani, and protector of mauna kea. I who has been casted with the kiss of the first people. who time everlasting has and shall always be birthed anew to protect the sacred. I am lover to mahuʻokapō. I am one who's life is not my own. they Who walks the unknown guided by her majesty, Mauna Kea. Grateful indeed i am of the burden, suffrage, and gift it is. to have been tied to her waist for many years as an adornment of but just one of many lāʻī. tied to her waist. Alas, It is I, offered up to the natural realm of the earth where the heart beats, water is consumed, and flesh is life itself. I Michelangelo, sisters, māhū, and brothers. I have tasted the bitter waters. emboldened am I. not of my own free will, but as a servant unto thee. I offer myself at the entrance of the gate, in gladness of heart, when your time has come to tie your pāʻū into the forest, and walk to your next home of knowledge, and indeed further your learning within the plethora of cultural pathways.

I am Michelangelo. sacred is my path, that of which is not my own. fire has engulfed me, water carves my path, wind severs to welcome what is, earth links me to my flesh, and the heavens bids me with compulsion. who I am it, is not I, who must be adorned, but all who have led me to this burden of responsibility. where I am called to serve. The kuahu is where the offerings are made. ʻieʻie bind you if you enter.

foundational knowledge for you to find your kuahu. whom shall it be. mine became a mountain. where I returned to the source. till my last breathe, will I persist until my mission is complete.

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