In August, I was honored to join Nā Mana Wai: Solidarity, Support, Inspiration, an event sponsored by the Hawaiʻi Council for the Humanities at Capitol Modern, just across from ʻIolani Palace. To be so close to where Kalākaua and Liliʻuokalani once envisioned art as a force for renewal reminded me that our cultural and creative work is not ornament, but lifeblood. It flows, it nourishes, it connects.

The gathering centered less on products and outcomes, and more on presence—on how we show up for one another, how we earn pilina through collaboration and care. From the opening circle of introductions to Logan Espiritu’s group-led dance that closed our time together, each moment invited listening, reflection, and imagining what becomes possible when artists, practitioners, and organizations are supported with the equity and resources to carry their work forward. To flow, nourish, connect.

Our conversations moved between what is urgent and what is hopeful. Childcare, funding, archiving, and sustainability sat alongside visions of cross-island exchange, new guilds of support, and practices that could sustain communities rather than extract from them.

I was especially struck by Carol Ann Carl’s invitation to “constellate,” to see ourselves as stars whose connections form new patterns. That image has stayed with me, a vision of how thriving arts and culture communities in Hawaiʻi might be built; not by a single event, but through ongoing gatherings, conversations, and commitments. How each of us shines brighter by being in relation to others.

Nā Mana Wai affirmed that our strength lies not only in the art we create, but in the way we create together. I left with optimism, feeling that our creativity is sustained when we unite, when we care for each other, and when we commit to shared kuleana and stewardship.

This September is the first official (State-recognized) Hawaiian History Month. It reminds us that Kanaka ʻŌiwi history is not behind us but something present, something we’re making together; alive in the bonds we forge and the futures we dare to envision. Art and culture are part of that continuum, rising within us to sustain both memory and possibility. It is a generative energy I carry until we meet again, already pulled toward the next gathering.