Kilauea, Hawaii’s explosive volcano, has been at the top of the news for the past month. As it erupts leaving a path of devastation, I can’t help but think of Madam Pele, Hawaii’s fire goddess.
In legend it is she who causes all this fuss, and it is she who controls the timing of events. Her temperament is volatile at best and sometimes there are years, decades even, between eruptions. But lately, she has gotten out of hand and is laying waste to the beautiful island of Hawaii. What, I wonder, has gotten under her skin to make her this upset?
Just so you all know, I don’t believe in gods or goddesses. I am aware of the scientific explanations behind all of this. But, I do enjoy the whimsical thought of there being a woman hidden somewhere on that big island that is mad as hell and isn’t going to take it anymore.
Which brings me to my next thought. Madam Pele is much like human women everywhere. We take and take whatever life has to hand out and are expected to take even more with serene calmness and aplomb. We are, after all, the mothers, wives, daughters, sisters to the world and that comes with a certain amount of expectation.
We are expected to clean up, feed, nurse and entertain the human population of men. We are expected to work, raise and nurture families, whether they be our own or not. We are expected to be the soft, firm, gentle, feisty women everybody can count on.
So take all this expectation and put years of service behind it and you might, just might, come up with a Madam Pele. Pressure builds, much like that ooze and steam sitting under Kilauea. Pressure can only fill an area so much before it needs to come out. And then the whole thing blows and you either end up with an active volcano, or a woman who has lost her composure and is now spewing her thoughts and actions far and wide, leaving no one unscathed.
I can relate to Pele. Forty years ago I traveled to the top of Kilauea and observed her. She was fairly calm, just throwing up a few fire bombs; tiny really in comparison to now. I actually have a picture of myself, standing up there in the wind with my long red hair flowing up and out. My friend captioned it “Madam Pele” for it looked like I was on fire. I was 20 and didn’t realize there would be a time in the future when I would, like the Madam, blow sky high from the pressure of life. But blow I did, with the destruction mainly falling on the husband. For the past 37 years I’ve erupted occasionally, mostly at life’s injustices. As the fire bombs would start, the husband expertly fielded them with his calm demeanor. Then my inner volcano would wind down and life would return to normal.
To this day he still remembers an evening long ago. We were in the dating phase and I was expecting him to pick me up at a certain time. Unbeknownst to me, he had a flat tire on the freeway. No cell phones in those days. He arrived at my door an hour late and by that time I had myself in a tizzy worthy of the Madam. I greeted him on the stoop with an attitude and fire in my eyes. He later told me that was when he first realized he loved me. The man has dangerous tastes.
As I’ve gotten older the eruptions have abated quite a bit. Mainly because I’m too tired to spew; and also I’ve come to the conclusion I can’t change the world. Now I just concentrate on my little part of existence and find it more manageable. Life with the Magical Mess has evened out, but every now and then I think the husband misses the grand cavalcade of emotions of a woman with fiery hair, eyes that can glow and a soul that burns for him and only him.
Don’t get me wrong, I still burn, but slowly and I try not to consume everything in my path. Really, just embers instead of a blaze. I know not whether Madam Pele would still consider me part of her family. But I do know this Magical Mess of a Creature is a lot easier to handle.
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