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Sonic Yogi

Happy Birthday Mahaksha....59 and still kickin'

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I got in trouble yesterday when I mentioned to my supervisor that it was my 60th birthday. Funny thing, the way these westerners do their zero math, they will never understand as long as they play around with numbers that have no value. Give me an abacus any day, because they do not have zeroes.


Which is why I think the new mindless game, SUDOKU, is so advanced. There are no zeroes in Sudoku, either, so the math is rather sacred. Full on nine-ball (see previous articles on the "number nine" magic).


Life goes on (and on and on), but the older we get, we are supposed to get wisdom. To me, wisdom (SOPHIA) means realizing there is no future, just this very second, I have no assurances Ill even finish this sentence. So, now that that is over, now I gotta realize that the past is something that was already there for me to act properly in, and I cannot change anything. So, right this second, I pay homage to the devotees of Krsna, hoping they all REMEMBER reality and all the truely fine things that reality entails, such as Sita Ram, Lord Prthu and how he changed the world, and Haridas thakur, who had no status yet was called namacarya by Sri Chaitanya.


Hare Krsna, ys, mahak

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Hare Krishna and Happy Birthday, Mahakshadasa Prabhu.


Sorry I'm late, but I'm glad I saw this thread. Over the years you've made a wonderful contribution to these boards and I always try to read your posts when I do get online. Your take on things never fails to be interesting and Krishna conscious. Thanks for being here. I hope your health is good and that you're happy "in exile." -Your old friend, slw

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hey, sorry my photo of the graveyard didnt turn out. Oh well.


Hey, wolfman, seen any waves? Big ones comin, hang on, thanks for your friendship, ys, mahak





"Singing sweet melodies", Anoina so pleased to sing to he beloved associate, "This is my message to you. Don't worry bout a thing."

The onset of the monsoon season guaranteed

their inseparable reunification.

All the waves of changes past, the family

from the refuge of Huelo Point, headed for the waves to come.

The monsoon season was like a time out.

As the skies and the sea became more agitated and turbulent,

a glow of serenity blessed the lives of

Martin, Anoina, and their growing gift from Jah, Kuhio.

And the weeks during Fall and early Winter of 1977

saw the great swells of Hookipa Beach.

International surfing champions filled the hotels of Kahului

and the North Shore breaks.

When the sun rose above the horizon,

Gary and Martin would be at the outside break.

They would be long gone by the time the pros arrived.

Anoina, too, was becoming quite well-known as an eccentric,

yet she rode the huge waves like she had at Anuhola.

There was an absence of competitive feelings in the water at sunrise. Michael always kidded Gary Costello's style,

wide survival stance with his back to the right-breaking point.

He was no one to grace a surfing magazine,

but no one pictured in a magazine would be on a larger wave

or in a better position on the wave than Gary.

Martin was the same way, only sneakier and faster,

and more aerodynamic. Anoina, on the other hand,

had to be seen to actually conceive of her way

with the power of the ocean.

With her small hand board, as big as a baseball glove,

she would push her leading hand straight down

as her powerful legs and Churchill fins propelled her into the waves.

Once in the pocket, two feet below the smoking crest

of the waves, she would drop twenty feet

straight down the face, carving her own artistry with her handboard.

On these waves, she had no interest to challenge the pipe,

she would just get to the shoulder and pop out over the top.

The pipe would be saved for her last ride of the day.

Sometimes her and Martin would share a wave,

sometimes all three would ride.

Kewela would be sketching it all from the beach,

playing with Koleka and Kuhio, Kaya, Wendy, Alana,

and all who showed up. Kewela and Gary were inseparable

and living in Makawao, and the mauka road between the

Costello ranch and Huelo Point was well-traveled by both families. Sometimes, all six of them would just change houses,

travelling the road together.

It was a wonderful time of healing remedies

and spiritual rebirth.


The children slept as the huge raindrops slapped the

metal roofs of Huelo Point refuge. The four friends,

never fearing reprisal, envy, or anger from the confidences they heartily shared with one another, shared kaliherb and music on the lanai.

Gary even started playing music, using a drum stick on a

cow bell or clapping two blocks of koa wood.

Martin spoke over the melodies of Kewela's flutes and

Anoina's slack key Washburn:


<CENTER>Waves of planets rolling through space

Explosions and fiyeh all ovah di place.

Molten earth rising and breaking on the plain,

Waves of creation cooled by the rain. </CENTER><CENTER> </CENTER><CENTER>Waves carve the shoreline as they see fit

Removing the mansions, but who will admit

That the waves have the power, not the surfer who rides

Creator of waves is He who decides </CENTER><CENTER> </CENTER><CENTER>Which wave of fiyeh will consume the whole world

It happens all di time, or haven't you heard

All of us know that surely He'll save

Us, but I'm sure He'll give us a wave </CENTER><CENTER> </CENTER><CENTER>Waves in di air, waves in di sound

Breaks in di waves and we just play around

Breaks in di waves, ride in di trim

Wave after wave, Oh Govinda, praise Him</CENTER><CENTER> </CENTER>

Laughing and joking about the song, Martin told Anoina,

Gary and Kewela, "and you were told you'd never hear sufr music again." They all had such a good time playing music like this,

they decided to head for the highlands the next day,

to the "for sale" ranch with electricity.

David Kaaawa just lived a mile away near Richie,

so, maybe a jam could be spontaniously generated.

And generated it was. A new band, Martin's and David's rhythms, Kewela's mystical flute, Anoina's chanting, congas, slack key as she saw fit, and Gary's well-timed stark percussions.

What the flute and percussions added far exceeded what was

missed from Holy Smoke. The sweetness of the highlands and the rain forests was conveyed through the softer Gibson riffs and

synthesized chorus from the keyboards.

And every member of the group was compelled to compose lyrics soon.

The anxiety of scheduling or working was not in evidence,

but all of them knew that a positive future

awaited their newly reformed band.



As the new year wave formed on the horizon,

a three acre parcel above the mud of Keanae Valley came to life.

Eight miles East of Huelo Point, the drive took twenty minutes

due to the hairpin curves of the Hana Highway.

A load of wood in a closed container arrived at the iron gate.

Gary, Kewela and Koleka became a family

and their refuge was before them.

His wealth was no longer a burden to him,

as he divested much of it to set up a

Michael Kaanakuhio Foundation to provide help to

displaced indigenous peoples. He would never have to work

to support his new family, however,

he worked very hard always to show his love for Kewela and Koleka.

After the lanai was roofed and screened, they all wanted to move in.

Gary had already provided a generator powered heat, water,

and electrical system, and bulldozed a good road encircling the three acres. He enjoyed his life by masterfully planning and building the beautiful

Valley Lookout homestead. The only problem was the koa furinture at the Makawao ranch. Easily solved by a storage facility in Paia,

Gary, Kewela, and Koleka moved from the highlands to the coastal valley rain forests of Haleakala's North Rift Zone.


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happy birthday max...your standin' on sacred ground brother...washed clean and smoothed by the rivers of time.


here is some music from the local spirit and friends...always kc!







<embed src="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KV_0Mf9YcyA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344">

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