Canoe as Classroom

I was recently paddling out of Kona Bay when I attempted to motivate my crew in a soliloquy of expletives (picked up mostly through my boat work over the years). My coach quickly corrected me, “Remember how you speak on a traditional Hawaiian outrigger. Words matter.” As someone with a background in cultural anthropology this caught my attention. Did I just commit a huge cultural faux pas? I teared up, embarrassed by my mistake, and then I did my research.

In traditional Hawaiian culture, ʻōlelo (language, speech, spoken word) was not just communication—it was a manifestation of mana (spiritual power). Before writing, knowledge, genealogy, law, history, navigation, medicine, and prayer were conveyed through the spoken word. A person's words reflected their character, lineage, wisdom, and spiritual authority. 

A traditional waʻa (outrigger canoe) is not merely a vessel, but represents something cultural and spiritual that carries the legacy of generations of navigators, fishermen, and families. Historically, waʻa connected communities, sustained life through fishing and travel, and served as a classroom where knowledge was passed from one generation to the next. Chants, prayers and stories were passed down with intention and purpose. To speak carelessly on a waʻa then becomes more than a breach of etiquette, but a failure to recognize the spiritual power carried by the canoe, it’s crew, and the traditions it represents. In this context, language becomes part of paddling itself: an act of respect, awareness, and stewardship for both people and place.

I ka ʻōlelo nō ke ola, i ka ʻōlelo nō ka make

Life and death travel through the words we choose

This traditional Hawaiian ʻōlelo noʻeau (proverb) was pulled from the collection by Mary Kawena Pukui, one of the most important practitioners of Hawaiian language, culture, history and traditional knowledge in the 20th century. f you’ve ever looked up a Hawaiian name, chant, practice, or word, there’s a good chance Pukui was involved. 

The proverb reminds us that speech has consequences. Once spoken, words cannot be taken back. Words bring life because through the preservation of knowledge through generations, they teach and guide, bless, heal and bridge relationships, inspire courage, hope, and action, and maintain cultural identity through moʻokūʻauhau (family history and genealogy). Conversely, words may bring death when shaming or dishonoring a person or family, inciting conflict or violence, spreading lies, breaking trust and severing relationships. Words shape realities in minds and hearts. 

Language is one of our most powerful creative forces. Words preserve memory, create a sense of belonging, provide healing, and can cause harm. The responsibility of speaking is inseparable from the power of speaking.

As for me, I still have a sailor's mouth, but I'm working on it --- especially around the canoe. Beyond that, I've been trying to form words around some larger life events and conflicts I've been hoping to resolve lately, and not especially gracefully. There have been a number of recent moments I've been vitriolic and even verbally violent when challenged, and it passes through me like poison ---- I'm physically and emotionally hungover afterwords. It does seem to matter. I'm working on it. I'm working on myself, and I want to be better.