Latest news with #Joylynn
Yahoo
30-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
How to make your lei with aloha and mana: Kumu Lum
HONOLULU (KHON2) — As the islands get ready for May 1, also known as May Day is Lei Day in Hawaiʻi, there's one tradition that brings everyone together: making and wearing lei. Whether you're a beginner or someone who has made lei before, learning from people who live aloha every day can make a big difference. Kumu Brad Lum and his assistant Joylynn recently shared their knowledge with about two types of lei — a puako (flower) lei and a ti leaf lei — while weaving in deep respect for the ʻāina, plants and kūpuna (ancestors). 'This is about more than just making something beautiful,' said Kumu Brad Lum. 'This is about connection, about giving and about honoring.' This is what we learned from Kumu Lum and Joylynn. Joylynn shared two different styles: the lei pua kou (a flower lei using the kui, or stringing method), and the lei lāʻī (a twisted ti leaf lei). 'For the flower lei, I'm using pua kou,' said Joylynn. 'They're this really vibrant orange, and I love them not just for their color but because they're indigenous to Hawaiʻi.' Pua kou flowers grow freely and are easy to gather without harming the tree. 'The tree showers us with the flowers. So, if you go early in the morning, you can pick them straight off the ground,' she said. 'That's how giving the tree is.' To make a full-sized lei, Joylynn recommends collecting around 70 to 80 pua. 'You want the lei to be full, to drape nicely,' she explained. 'It depends on the size of the flowers and how tightly you string them, but that's a good number to start with.'Stringing the flowers may look easy, but one smart tip makes it smoother. 'I like to put a clothespin at the end of my string just so I can push the pua as far as possible, and they won't fall off the other side,' said Joylynn. When you're done, the knot you tie at the end turns the lei into a circle because it's a symbol of aloha with no beginning or end. 'The lei needle has an open eye,' Joylynn explained. 'It lets you wrap the string and pull it through without struggling. You can also stack more flowers on it before pulling them through.' Instead of plastic thread, she uses biodegradable dental floss. 'It's all natural; so, when the lei goes back to the ʻāina [the land] it won't leave anything behind,' she said. 'You can hang it on a tree, bury it or even give it to the ocean.' 'The lei lāʻī is really simple,' said Joylynn. 'But you still have to treat it with respect.' To start, soften the ti leaves by boiling them, freezing them or ironing them. Then, cut off the hard edges and begin twisting. 'Because I'm right-handed, I twist the right side away from me, as tight as I can,' she said. 'Then I go right over left. Always right over left.' You can add more leaves along the way by laying them shiny-side up on the right side, then continuing to twist and fold them in. 'It can be a lei for your neck, your wrist, or your bag strap,' she said. 'It's up to you.' Ti leaves are often waved at University of Hawaiʻi volleyball games. But what happens after that? 'If you're going to wave them to support our Rainbow Warriors, that's great,' Joylynn said. 'But don't throw them away afterward.' Kumu Lum agreed: 'This is our ʻohana. This is from the ʻāina. It's not ʻopala — it's not trash.' In fact, Joylynn gathers the ti leaves from the stadium floor after games and uses them to make lei. 'This isn't just a thing you make,' said Kumu Lum. 'You wear a lei to give aloha. You give a lei to show love. You return it to the ʻāina to show respect.' Even as Joylynn worked with her hands, twisting ti leaves and threading flowers, she spoke softly but firmly: 'Everything around us, everything we touch, it's alive. It has mana [power].' And sometimes, lei making gets sticky. Literally. 'The sap from the ti leaf is sticky, not greasy,' Joylynn said with a laugh as she held up her fingers. 'I use a little spray bottle to clean my hands, so I don't rip the leaves. It's all about taking care of the plants, of yourself and of the lei.' Making a lei is about using your hands. But it's also about using your heart and your mind to imbue your creation with aloha. 'When you make a lei, your thoughts go into it,' Joylynn said. 'So, you want to focus on positive thoughts. You're giving this lei to someone, and you want to pass that positivity on.' Whether you're thinking about the person you're gifting it to or simply feeling grateful for the day, what you feel becomes part of the lei itself. That's why intention matters. 'You don't want to give someone your stress, your anxiety or your negative feelings,' said Joylynn. 'You want to give them your aloha.' Kumu Lum added, 'That's why making a lei is ceremony. You slow down. You breathe. You connect.' So, before the first flower goes on the string, and long after the last leaf is twisted, remember: what you carry in your thoughts is just as important as what you hold in your hands. Making a lei isn't just a craft. It's a way to honor life, people and place. As May Day approaches, remember what Kumu Lum said: 'Honor our lei. Wear lei. Give a lei. And aloha. Always.' Kumu Brad Lum So, whether you're twisting ti leaves under a tree, or stringing flowers from your front yard, you're doing more than just making something pretty. You're practicing aloha. Get news on the go with KHON 2GO, KHON's morning podcast, every morning at 8 Want help making your first lei this May Day? Kumu Lum and Joylynn say: just start. 'It's okay if it's not perfect,' said Joylynn. 'You're learning. That's the lei, too.' Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Yahoo
22-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
7 secrets behind the world's most celebrated hula
HONOLULU (KHON2) — The Merrie Monarch Festival began yesterday, April 20, in Hilo. For those lucky enough to attend festival, it's more than a hula competition. It's a powerful lesson in standing firm in who you are, where you come from and what you carry forward. 'The preparation is intense,' said Kumu Brad Lum. 'It's daily. A whole week of practice for just seven minutes on stage.' But even more than the dancing, Merrie Monarch teaches a deeper kind of strength — one that's about being rooted, respectful and real. And getting there? That's a lesson, too. For Joylynn and Kumu Lum, even getting tickets to Merrie Monarch is a process that takes planning, patience and a little luck. 'Applications have to be in by Dec. 1,' said Joylynn. 'We sat together, filled out our applications, got our money orders, and mailed them at the post office to give us the best chance of sitting together.' But it didn't go exactly as planned. 'Kumu accidentally sent the receipt for the money order instead of the actual money order,' Joylynn said. 'We were very stressed.' Kumu Lum called the office. 'They were super ʻoloʻolu. They understood and let us resend the money. But everything is by mail. Nothing is digital. They keep it traditional.' And that's the point. Merrie Monarch values what's real, not what's fast. Everything is done by hand just like the hula. Merrie Monarch started in 1964 as a way to boost Hilo's local economy. It was named for King David Kalākaua, known as the 'Merrie Monarch', who loved hula and helped bring it back during a time when it was by 1971, the festival had become something deeper. With the help of 'Aunty' Dottie Thompson and cultural leaders like George Naʻope, the festival became a true celebration of Hawaiian culture. Today, Merrie Monarch is a week-long event filled with dance, art, chanting, storytelling and celebration. It's one of the most respected hula festivals in the world. 'You don't even need a ticket to experience it,' Joylynn said. 'At ʻImiloa, there's lei-making, weaving, learning how to do hula. There's stuff at the Palace Theater, too. There are craft shows all over Hilo. You just have to show up.' The idea of 'dominance' usually means control or force. But for Kumu Lum and Joylynn, real strength is presence. 'I don't like talking about competition,' Kumu Lum said. 'It's a colonized way of thinking. Why should we have competition? King Kalākaua's hula wasn't about that; it was about love and giving.' Joylynn agreed. 'When I competed, I was so stressed. Everyone said, 'Don't think of it as competition. Think of it as perpetuation.' That helped me. I was showing my aloha. I was honoring what my kumu gave me.' For both of them, competition doesn't come from being better than others. It comes from knowing who you are and acting with integrity. 'Hula students should have one word: humility,' said Kumu Lum. 'That's the most important value.' Preparing for Merrie Monarch isn't something one person can do alone. 'It takes many people in the background to get you to Hilo,' said Kumu Lum. 'It costs thousands of dollars. There are lei, costumes, food, housing. I tell everyone: if a hālau is fundraising, support them.' Joylynn added, 'Even if we're not a competition-based hālau, we go to Merrie Monarch every year to learn and observe. It's filled with our hula.' Support means more than money. It means time, effort and commitment. 'Sometimes, students make mistakes,' said Kumu Lum. 'I've seen many cry. You practice every day, almost seven days a week, and then you only have one chance.' Standing strong isn't just for dancers. It's for everyone: men, women, young, old. 'During my days, I was hot oil,' said Kumu Lum. 'I thought I knew everything. But that's not part of hula. That's not the way. If you're humble and filled with joy, that's what matters.' To lead is to serve. To assert presence is to uplift others. That's what hula teaches, according to Kumu Lum. 'This is for our culture,' he said. 'If Merrie Monarch is to thrive, we have to support it. We have to support our hālau. These are the keepers of our culture.' You can click to learn more about the Merrie Monarch Festival Every year, Merrie Monarch opens on Easter Sunday. The ceremonies begin with chant and protocol. Deities are honored. Traditions are kept. 'If you haven't seen the opening, go see it,' said Kumu Lum. 'It's amazing.' In 2025, the festival celebrates its 61st year. And while it began as a way to bring visitors to the Big Island, today its purpose is clear: to keep Native Hawaiian culture alive. Get news on the go with KHON 2GO, KHON's morning podcast, every morning at 8 'The choreography takes months,' said Kumu Lum. 'The kumu chooses who's in the front line, second line, third, fourth. It's a whole process. But what it really is — what it really teaches — is how to stand for something.' And maybe that's the biggest lesson of all. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
