Ho'oponopono and The Lesson of the Pipe Wrench

I'm still sifting through my recent experiences with the Hawaiian kahunas (mentioned in my last post). The benefits were plenty while there, but have increased since my return home.

One of these I'll share is the Lesson of the Pipe Wrench. It may sound a little strange, but please bear with me.

In addition to being trained since childhood in kahuna ways, Mel Ha'Makua Mason has several other businesses. One day, he had just finished a plumbing job before coming to our small group to teach.

He looked around the room at us, and brought out his tool box. It looked ordinary enough . . . and contained no plant roots or other magical concoctions.

Each of us was to silently choose a tool. I asked him what the task was? How could I choose without knowing this?

He shook his head and told me to choose anyway.

I picked the hammer because it could both dismantle old things, and help build new ones. Several other people liked that tool also.

He went around the room listening to people's choices, and asking questions about them. He came to me again.

"You look smokey," he said. [He, like Morrnah Simeona was, is a "seeing" kind of kahuna.] "Do you smoke?"

No, I told him.

"Do you drink? Do drugs?" he went further.

No, and no, I answered.

"What about your family?" he wanted to know.

Oooooh . . . I winced. Various family members have been and are deeply involved with these. In fact this has torn my family apart, and I have tried to do my share of rescuing. It hasn't worked.

You remember that Ho'oponopono includes our relatives, families, and ancestors. We carry memories in our data banks from all of these -- they collect layer upon layer upon layer, clouding things up. But Mel knew nothing about me or my family history when making his observations.

He then talked about plumbing, and how large pipes can bring in all kinds of things -- like sewage in many cases. When this happens, it can flood the place.

"Pam, you have somehow gone through this [experience with your family's alcoholism, etc] and not done like they have. You can go to them and fix them, show them how to live," he said. "Are you ready to do that?"

Ooooooh . . . no way, I said. I've had enough of that. I could just see myself going to their home and trying to "do" something about their situation. Every time we've attempted this, it has backfired or been completely undone when we walk out the door. My stomach clenched involuntarily.

"Then you need a different tool," said Mel. "Open the toolbox, and pick another one. Maybe one to do with plumbing," he grinned mischievously.

"But Mel, I don't know plumbing tools," I said. "It's not my area of expertise." He was silent, gazing at me.

I rooted through the box, looking for whatever might be a plumbing tool. I knew plungers -- I have used them plenty when things get stuck in toilets and sinks. Very useful. But no plungers were in there.

There were also no plumbing snakes -- things you can use to get through and dislodge clogs.

Finally I dug through to the tool chest's bottom and found a BIG heavy wrench that I wasn't exactly sure how to use. "What's this?" I asked. "Is this what you're hoping I'll find?"

He laughed and said, "It's called a pipe wrench. I was using it this morning to disconnect a pipe that was hooked into the wrong thing. Pick it up and hold it."

I did. Made completely of metal, it felt strong, heavy, and purposeful in my hand. I could do some damage with this thing. I could also imagine how it might fit around mismatched, leaking, or rusting pipes.

"You need to get one, Pam. Keep it with you always, especially when you go to visit your family. They don't have to know why you have it. But you can disconnect your intake pipe so the sewage doesn't come in. And you can connect to something else that might be healthier for you."

Oh, my G_d! I realized that when the proverbial you-know-what is hitting the fan, I can disconnect and re-connect to something else. I held the pipe wrench in my two hands and visualized disconnecting the intake pipe that funneled all the yechhy stuff into me, clouding up my insides. And apparently, also showing up to Mel's kahuna vision on the outside.

"You are sacred ground, as all of us are. But why should anyone else ever treat you that way unless you realize it first?" asked Mel.

Why, indeed? I asked myself.

Lest anyone misunderstand, this "disconnect the pipe" strategy doesn't mean my family's to blame for showering "dirty bad sewage" into my "good", "pristine" self. To me it just means that the memories of generations are flooding all of us, unless we make another choice.

My choice is to clean, through Ho'oponopono -- thus inviting Divinity's help transmuting the "sewage" [memories] in each moment. I'm also choosing to re-route my pipes -- connecting to Divinity rather than those yechhy memories. And when they come up again (as they certainly will) I can say "thank you!", disconnect, and clean some more.

Some of us benefit from concrete reminders of spiritual principles. So I'm checking the specials at Lowe's -- wonder what they have in the way of sturdy pipe wrenches?

My homeopath added a suggestion: when pipes are so attached they get rusted together, some WD-40 can help. Learning from my history, I'm taking him up on that. :-)

Peace begins with me,


Clare Josa said…
This is a great post, Pam.
Thank you for sharing!
It's a wonderful reminder that we can choose what to accept from any experience - that we are "at cause" and don't have to be buffetted on anyone's storm; not even our close family members.
Love the WD-40 bit, too!
Pam Pappas MD said…
Thanks so much, Clare . . . and that WD-40 can cover a multitude of uses. :-)

Unknown said…
Thank You!
I have recently been cleaning all of my connections.
Trying to erase my foot prints. LOL
Ice blue-ing every action and step.
Today a friend sent me your blog.
Divine timing.
Thank you for all of your cleaning, it made its flow to me..... I am grateful.
Peace of I,

Popular posts from this blog

Ho'oponopono or "Faux-o'ponopono"?

Ho'oponopono Cleaning: Which Tool For You?

Ho'oponopono Cleaning: When is a Blueberry More Than a Blueberry?