Authenticity and Culture

In our current moment, "Hawaiian" has become a label slapped onto many labels, including spiritual practice, to make them feel grounded or exotic. Energy healing sessions with Hawaiian names. Yoga classes called "ho'omana." Generic breathwork rebranded as ancestral work. As I've grown

in my own spiritual practice, I've become wary of anything that promises you need an external guide to access your inner landscape. Certain spiritual principles are universal. Connection to breath, to nature, to something larger than ourselves. These, importantly, transcend culture. Hawaiian ceremonial practice is a specific genealogy, rooted in our akua (gods), place, seasons, and our kupuna (ancestors). Most importantly, it demands a recognition and accountability of the many lessons our previous generations have passed down to us.

What authenticity requires

Authenticity in Hawaiian ceremony starts with genealogy. Essentially practicing within a tradition that stretches back generations means you're participating in something that has been refined and carefully passed down. You carry that knowledge in your body and your spirit.

This grounding shapes how ceremony works. We approach nā akua as specific forces (e.g. Kanaloa, Kāne, Kū, Lono) each governing particular elements, seasons, and aspects of existence. When you call on them, you're calling on forces recognized and honored for centuries through particular ways of speaking, moving, and making offerings. Generic "universal energy" carries different weight entirely.

Beyond Akua, Hawaiian practice, and all indigenous practice, is rooted in the land we practice our culture. Knowing which Ahupuaʻa (watershed), Wahi Pana (sacred place), Mahina (moon cycle), etc. youʻre in, which wind & rain belong to that place and which ʻohana have stewarded that place. This specificity makes ceremony alive and real. It keeps you humble, constantly reminding you that you're a small piece of something vast and highly interconnected makes everything you do intentional. Ultimately, understanding that you don't have all the answers and are always learning is key. To have follow your kumu with humility holds you accountable to those lineages. The moment someone claims they've figured it all out, you're looking at ego. Authenticity is never performative.

What is appropriated

When I see "Hawaiian" attached to a generic spiritual offering, there's usually a pattern. Someone takes a universal principle (e.g. breathwork, energy work, meditation) and gives it a Hawaiian name or framing. Maybe they've studied Hawaiian culture, visited the islands, or felt called to this work. Maybe they are even of Hawaiian ancestry. Oftentimes they're coming from a genuine place of wanting to help people connect to something real. But if they're arenʻt practicing within a lineage of knowledge, they are stripping Hawaiian practices to sell them, without doing the inner work. I say this humbly, because I myself am still reconnecting to what colonization tried to erase from my own lineage. My kumu have guided me back to what my ancestors knew, and I'm still learning. When someone comes seeking authentic Hawaiian practice, they're looking to connect with a specific tradition rooted in our akua, our seasons, our land. If what they receive is a universal practice with Hawaiian language attached, they don't get that connection. The Hawaiian framing becomes decoration rather than ʻauthentically Hawaiianʻ. We're all indigenous somewhere. Reconnecting to those ancestral lineages, listening to what your own ancestors are calling you toward. But it requires honesty about what tradition you're actually practicing within.

My lineage

I come from Hawaiian genealogy that traces to pre-contact bloodlines—my father's side from North Hawai'i Island, my mother's from the Windward side of O'ahu. But genealogy alone doesn't make someone a practitioner. What shaped me was training with kumu who carry the living knowledge of these traditions.

Kumu Maka Herrod was one of my earliest guides, teaching me as a child what it meant to be accountable to in Hula Halau. More recently, Kahu Kelvin Ho has been instrumental in deepening my understanding and refining my practice in spiritual work. Kumu Keone Kalawe has recently taught me the intentionality behind Luakini and Hawaiian governance. These relationships with kumu continue to guide how I approach ceremony, and I continue to learn from their lineages and from what came before.

This training means I approach ceremony with intentionality and purpose. I'm stewarding practices that were passed to me, and my responsibility is to offer them with the same integrity and specificity my kumu modeled. When someone comes to work with me, they're connecting to a lineage that goes back generations.

What to look for

If you're seeking genuine Hawaiian ceremony, here's what matters. First, ask about lineage. Where did they train? Who are their kumu? Can they name them? Someone practicing authentically won't be vague about this. They understand they're accountable to those who came before.

Second, listen for how they speak about the origins of their practice. Do they explain where specific traditions come from and why they practice them that way? Authentic ceremony is rooted in specific knowledge passed down through time. Someone who can speak to the origins and reasoning behind what they do, rather than treating practices as interchangeable tools, is working within a real lineage.

Third, notice humility. Are they claiming to have all the answers, or are they honest about what they're still learning? Do they speak about their teachers and what came before with respect? Genuine practitioners know they're part of something larger than themselves. They're a conduit for something that existed before them and will continue after.

Finally, pay attention to what they're not offering. Authentic ceremony won't promise quick fixes or personal transformation on demand. It won't guarantee specific outcomes. It works with forces larger than any individual. Respect for that mystery is part of what makes it real. There's no performance here—only purpose and intention.

Ongoing practice

Coming back to where I started: I'm skeptical of anyone who claims they're the key to your inner peace or spiritual awakening. That kind of thinking treats spirituality like a product to be consumed, and it misses what authentic practice actually is. Authentic Hawaiian ceremony isn't something you achieve once and check off. It's a continual practice of honoring what we know, what the akua guide, what the land teaches. When you show up for that kind of work, you're not seeking personal enlightenment. You're participating in something much older and much larger than yourself. You're saying yes to accountability—to the tradition, to the forces that shaped what came before and continue shaping the world.

This practice is rooted in place. It matters where you are. The land you stand on, the waters around you, the specific island and region—these aren't backdrop. They're part of what makes the ceremony real and alive. Authentic practitioners are rooted in place and they honor that specificity. They know the land they're on and they work within that relationship. That's why genealogy matters. That's why lineage matters. That's why humility matters. They keep the work real. They keep it rooted. They keep it from becoming another product on the spiritual marketplace.

If you're looking for authentic Hawaiian ceremony, look for someone who carries that accountability in their bones. Someone trained by kumu who trained them. Someone who speaks with respect about origins and what came before. Someone grounded in the specific place they practice. Someone humble enough to know they're still learning. Someone whose work is rooted in purpose and intention, never performance. That's what authenticity looks like. And that's what deserves your trust.