Spirit of Aloha | Features | January/February 2008

Feeling Good All Over

By R. Makana Risser Chai

Photography by John C. Kalani Zak

Shoulders once, shoulders twice— the Hawaiian art of lomilomi

Waves lapped the nearby shore. Flowers from a plumeria tree scented the breeze. While strong hands rhythmically stroked my shoulders once, twice, three times, I relaxed on the massage table. My eyelids grew heavy and I drifted away to the sound of Auntie Mar­garet Machado softly chanting, “Shoul­ders once, shoulders twice, shoulders three times . . .” . Six of my fellow students in the lomilomi class stroked in unison, heeding Auntie’s instructions. What was a 48-year-old California lawyer doing in a massage class on the island of Hawai‘i?

It all started with my grandmother—an ethnic Gypsy, or Romani, born in Croatia and raised in Paris, who then married my American grandfather and moved to California. I hate to perpetuate stereotypes, but she could read your fortune in tea leaves, see your future in the palm of your hand and relax your body with massage.

She taught me massage, and I was good at it, but I did not want to work as a therapist. I wanted to do what my father did: He was a lawyer. Bad plan. I hated practicing law. I wasn’t very good at it, and it made me sick. Many years later, I had one of those life-changing moments that begins when the doctor says, “Change your life—or else.” A short time later I realized that when my father died at age 54, he was just eight years older than I was at that moment. I thought, “If I had only eight years to live, what would I do?” My answer came in a flash: “Move to Hawai‘i.”

It took two years to get to Hawai‘i. Then I had to decide where to live. One day on the Big Island, in total stress mode and full of impatience, judgment and anger, I read an article about Aun­tie Margaret. As we say in Hawai‘i, it gave me chicken skin.

Auntie Margaret, then 82, was one of the most esteemed lomi­lomi teachers in the Islands. Schooled in the old ways by her grandfather, she was now passing her skills on to a younger generation. She taught her students to develop “the loving touch” with a love that springs from a Higher Power. As she said, “Lomi­lomi is praying work.”

I learned that lomilomi is not just mas­sage. It combines phy­sical, mental, emotional and spiritual work. During treatment,a patient is expected to think and believe healing thoughts, and the kahuna (master) instills feelings of well-being by transferring his or her words, thoughts and feelings into the patient’s subconscious.

I arranged to meet Auntie Margaret. To do this, I did the best thing: I signed up for her monthlong class. I would spend my first days in Hawai‘i learning and living with her on the shores of Kealakekua Bay. Soon I found myself, just another student, sleeping on the lānai of Auntie’s house, giving and re­ceiving massage, steaming in the sauna and eating good food. Each day we oiled our hands while Auntie softly chanted, “Shoulders once, shoulders twice.”

As I fell into the rhythm of the strokes, I became aware of a deep con­nec­tion to everyone and everything around me. It was almost as if I could see everyone who had ever been on her lānai, a multitude of spirits going back many generations, all the way to Aun­tie’s younger self and to her grandfather. They welcomed me into their midst.

Seven years later I am still in their company. They have led me, step by step, into my new life as a licensed massage therapist, lomilomi researcher and speaker and author of the book, Hawaiian Massage Lomilomi: Sacred Touch of Aloha. They speak to me through the kūpuna (elders) I have been fortunate to meet, and in dreams, signs and vi­sions. Visions?

Don’t worry, most of what I’ve learned has been through the kind of research only a lawyer would do—years of reading every book in the library and boxes of oral histories at the Bishop Museum.

Massage evolved long before Hawai‘i was discovered by South Pacific voyagers around 500 AD. The peoples of ancient Egypt, Greece, India, China and Japan all practiced massage, as did many others. Early Pacific settlers brought mas­sage to Hawai‘i, just as they brought food staples, animals and medicinal herbs. Over time, their massage techniques evolved to be­come uniquely Hawaiian. As an indigenous practice, lomi­lomi varied by island, by ahupua‘a (districts running from the mountains to the sea), and by ‘ohana (family).

Traditionally, everyone in the ‘ohana knew lomilomi and mas­saged each other every day. Native healers used it as phy­sical therapy to cure injury and illness. Servants gave lomilomi to the ali‘i, or chiefly class, as a luxury of life.

How is lomilomi different from other types of massage? It starts with aloha ‘āina, love of the land. Hawaiians know the land itself is healing. Certain areas possess special healing powers. Ha­wai‘i’s last reigning monarch, Queen Lili­‘uoka­lani, believed in the curative power of her land at Waikīkī, called Hamo­hamo, literally “to massage with oil.” Other places long associated with lomi­lomi are the volcanoes on the island of Hawai‘i.

This connection to the land is so im­portant that lomilomi practitioners—especially at the best hotel spas—give treatments outdoors so you can see the moun­tains, feel the warm caress of the breeze, smell the flowers, hear the waves and taste the salt air.

Lomilomi also grows out of Hawaiian culture. Many traditional therapists also practice hula or lua, a martial art, and infuse their lomilomi with the energy of those disciplines. As you might imagine, one style is gentler than the other.

The loving touch of lomilomi comes from the deep spirituality of the Ha­waiians. Prayer was always an essential part of their daily lives and continued to be after most converted to Christianity in the early 1800s. Ancient Hawaiians prayed when they built a house, made a canoe and gave lomilomi. Con­tem­po­rary native practitioners pray before, during and after treatment. Papa Henry Auwae, an elder teacher, says, “Eighty percent of healing is spiritual.”

The people of old prayed to the gods of healing, to their family gods (‘aumakua) and to Hamo‘ea, the goddess of mas­sage. Her name embodies “Hamo‘ea anointed with oil / patroness of various diseases / cure by massage therapy / give to the patient the spiritual breath of life.” Auntie Margaret would tell her students, “The Lord does the healing. I don’t heal. That’s why I say a prayer. I ask the Lord to intervene.”

Lomilomi is also unique because it is always done with a loving touch. Auntie Margaret explains, “If your hands are gentle and loving, your patient will feel the sincerity of your heart. His soul will reach out to yours, and God’s healing power will flow through you both.”

The spirituality of lomilomi is also ex­pressed with the breath. The Hawai­ian word for breath is hā. Since the old Ha­waiians were deeply aware that without breath there is no life, hā also means life. Native historian Mary Kawena Pukui once wrote, “Long before the missionaries arrived, Hawaiians had invested the ‘breath of life’ with a spiritual significance that closely paralleled Biblical references.”

It is only after the giver has invoked the power of prayer, breath and loving touch that attention is given to physical techniques. Dane Kaohelani Silva, a kumu or teacher of lomilomi who learned from his family and also trained in chiropractic and acupuncture, says, “I conceive it to be a system of deep communication using biomechanical and energetic waves to stimulate the cells to heal and re­generate. Hawaiian lomilomi consists of both gentle and deep techniques such as rubbing and stroking, knead­ing, pound­ing, pressing, shaking, vi­brating, pulling, pinch­ing, rolling and deep pressure-point compressions.”

In addition to their hands, practitioners use their feet, their elbows, their fore­arms and sticks, but lomilomi technique is most famous for the use of hot stones. Traditionally, hot stones wrapped in leaves are placed on the body. The heat of the stones releases the medicinal qualities of noni, ti or other leaves. Some modern practitioners use bare hot stones as hot packs. Traditional Hawai­ians also take steam baths and hot baths at the volcanoes, while some practitioners use saunas and hot tubs.

Before beginning lomilomi in the days of old, the kahuna lā‘au lapa‘au (healing expert) might also conduct a ho‘opono­pono session. Ho‘oponopono means “set­ting to right,” “forgiveness,” reconciliation” or “family counseling.” It is a traditional system for restoring lōkahi, or harmony, within the client and his or her ‘ohana. Hawaiians knew what modern medicine has now proved: Holding grudges makes you sick. Only forgiveness and reconciliation could heal such sickness.

Before beginning lomilomi in the days of old, the kahuna lā‘au lapa‘au (healing expert) might also conduct a ho‘opono­pono session. Ho‘oponopono means “set­ting to right,” “forgiveness,” reconciliation” or “family counseling.” It is a traditional system for restoring lōkahi, or harmony, within the client and his or her ‘ohana. Hawaiians knew what modern medicine has now proved: Holding grudges makes you sick. Only forgiveness and reconciliation could heal such sickness.

The beloved kupuna Allen Alapa‘i says, “My grandmother said forgiveness is the key that opens the heart. The thing that gets in the way of the heart is the mind. Turn off the mind. The mind is not us, it is other people’s voices. Once we forgive the voices, the mind turns off. When the mind goes off, the heart opens. Life is a feeling, not a thinking.”

As wonderful as it sounds, that philosophy was hard for me to accept. It’s the exact opposite of what a lawyer is taught to believe.

On my last night on Auntie Mar­garet’s lānai, I dreamed I gave lomilomi to an elderly woman in the hospital. The dream surprised me because I had no interest in hospital work. The next day, as planned, I moved to O‘ahu and had dinner with my brother, who had been living there for 30 years. When I mentioned my dream, he told me the mother of his best friend had just been re­leased from the hospital.

He suggested I practice on her. The next day I met Tutu. Full of aloha spirit, she adopted me into her family. Eventually she gave me the name Makana, which means gift, because she said I was a gift to her family.

Moments after I met her, Tutu said, “I have a son you should meet.” Three years later, we married.

I never thought my life would go this way, but it feels perfect. Now I know it’s true—life is a feeling, not a thinking. And the best way to get in touch with your feelings is with lomilomi.

R. MAKANA RISSER CHAI is the au­thor of Hawaiian Massage Lomilomi: Sacred Touch of Aloha. She also edited Nā Mo‘olelo Lomilomi: The Traditions of Hawaiian Massage and Healing (Bishop Museum Press). She founded Hawaiian In­sights Inc, to help perpetuate Hawai­ian traditions.

JOHN C. KALANI ZAK is the photographer for the book Hawaiian Massage Lomilomi: Sacred Touch of Aloha. His extensive background in photography, television and film includes lighting director for ABC (during which he was awarded an Emmy) and director of photography for Universal Studios as well as major stations. He lives in Hawai'i and Los Angeles.

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