A Journey Woven with Light and Shadow — 25 Years Guided by Hula

I first encountered hula more than 25 years ago.
I began studying under a Japanese teacher who had trained with a kumu hula—once celebrated as the first female disciple of a legendary master.
The moment I saw ancient hula, kahiko, for the first time, something deep inside me stirred.
The sound of the ipu heke, the voice of the oli (chant), and the prayer-like movements of the dance captivated me completely.
Through my Japanese teacher, I was also fortunate to learn directly from her kumu in Hawaiʻi.
Those days were filled with discipline and fulfillment.
Hula became more than just dance—it became a way to face myself, a practice to center my heart.
I also explored the graceful ʻauana style and discovered the joy of playing the ukulele.
Everything about hula felt fresh and alive, and before I knew it, my world was painted in the colors of Hawaiʻi.

Ten years passed in the blink of an eye, and hula had become an inseparable part of my life.
Then came an unavoidable move, and I had to leave the studio I had attended for so long.
Though I continued dancing in my new home, I couldn’t dance kahiko—and something felt missing.
Still, my love for hula never faded.
As I kept dancing, I began to hear the quiet voice within me:

“I want to dance kahiko again.”

That longing grew stronger, and I made a life-changing decision.

I stepped away from hula for a while to spend time with myself.
No studio, no pāʻū skirt—just quiet, gentle days.
Even hearing hula music made my chest ache.
I cut my long hair, which I had kept for years.
But this wasn’t an empty pause.
It became a precious time of deep inner dialogue.
I discovered psychology and counseling, and came to understand the importance of emotional safety.
If hula is an art that expresses the soul through the body, then what kind of space allows that soul to open freely?
That quiet question became my new path.

One day, light returned from an unexpected direction.
I learned about a hula teacher training class led by a kumu, and the moment I stepped onto the studio floor again, my heart trembled.
New teachers, reunited friends, and my studies in psychology all came together.
They gave me the courage to return to hula.
Now, I continue learning the rich traditions and techniques of kahiko, while walking forward with a desire to create a space where both heart and body can meet hula in safety and trust.

Ka Hōkūlani HULA STUDIO was born from this journey.
Here, there’s no need to compare yourself to others or strive for perfection.
We walk the hula path together, at your pace, with care for your heart and body.

This studio is not tied to a specific lineage or formal title.
But I believe that’s not a weakness—it’s our greatest strength.
There’s a Hawaiian proverb:
“ʻAʻohe pau ka ʻike i ka hālau hoʻokahi”
—“All knowledge does not reside in one school alone.”
This wisdom affirms the path I’ve taken, learning from multiple teachers and forging my own way.
What guides my work is not a title or genealogy, but the kuleana I’ve chosen to carry.
Through this studio, I strive to share the essence of hula with sincerity, and to gently support each person’s light as it blooms in safety.
That is my role, and my calling.
The name “Hōkūlani” was given to me by the kumu who first opened the door to my hula journey.
“You shine like the brightest star in the heavens,” she said.
Now, it’s my turn to help your star shine.
I look forward to the beginning of your own hula story here at Ka Hōkūlani.