It’s easy to get lost in the static of modern society: the constant scrolling, the 24-hour news cycle, the endless hum of distraction that leaves our souls hungry for meaning. In these noisy times, there’s a quiet revolution waiting right outside our doors.
By putting down the remote, turning off the endless stream of social feeds, picking up a pair of gardening gloves and visiting your local farmers during gleaming season, you can take a gentle yet radical stance against chaos. Tuning into the rhythm of the harvest season isn’t just about gathering food; it’s about remembering who we are as beings deeply rooted in Earth’s sacred cycles.
Across the Pacific, the Hawaiian tradition of Makahiki invites us to return to this remembrance. Stretching from late October through early February, Makahiki marks the Hawaiian harvest season and New Year, a time of peace, rest and gratitude for the abundance of the land and sea.
This season was dedicated to the god Lono, the divine spirit of fertility, agriculture, rainfall and peace. Ancient Hawaiians celebrated Makahiki by halting all wars and hard labor, offering tributes — crops, fish and handmade goods — to the temples and coming together for games, feasts, chants and dance. It was a sacred pause in the year, a collective deep breath that honored both the land’s generosity and the community’s unity.
The cultural significance of Makahiki runs deeper than ceremony. It embodies the Hawaiian value of pono: living in balance and righteousness with all things. In today’s fast-paced world, Makahiki reminds us to slow down, share our harvests and celebrate the simple joy of being alive together.
The festival games, laughter and music symbolized more than leisure; they represented harmony between people, nature and the divine. Imagine a season where everyone collectively agrees to rest, reflect and give thanks without conflicts or competition — just gratitude and play. That’s the spirit of Makahiki: joy as resistance, peace as abundance.
Bringing that same energy into our own gardens can be a form of modern resistance, a personal ceremony of gratitude and grounding. Whether you’re tending kale in your backyard or basil on your balcony, cultivating your own food reconnects you to the natural cycles of life. Gardening invites stillness, mindfulness and patience, qualities that are rare jewels in today’s hurried culture. The simple act of touching the soil and watching something grow nurtures our spirit as much as it feeds our bodies. Studies show that the microbes in soil can boost serotonin levels, lifting your mood naturally, while the rhythmic, repetitive motions of planting and pruning promote a meditative state that eases anxiety and stress.
When you harvest what you’ve grown, the reward isn’t just in flavor; it’s also in feeling. There’s a deep ancestral joy that bubbles up when you pull a carrot from the ground, clip a sprig of mint for your tea or roll up some good ol’ home-grown pakalolo. You’re not just collecting produce; you’re participating in a sacred exchange with the Earth. As the ancestors knew, to eat from the land is to be fed by spirit.
If you’re ready to cultivate peace in your own corner of paradise, start small. A few potted herbs on a sunny windowsill can become a daily ritual of reconnection. Let gardening be your meditation. Focus on the feeling of soil between your fingers, the sunlight on your skin and the sound of water trickling through roots. Embrace imperfections, as gardens teach resilience and acceptance through their natural cycles of growth and decay. Create your own sanctuary space. Breathe deeply, release the noise and simply be present with the mana aloha of the land.
And don’t forget to share the harvest. Invite your neighbors over for a fresh salad, trade ‘ulu (breadfruit) for kalo (taro) or gift bundles of freshly harvested herbs wrapped in twine. Community is at the heart of every harvest. Just as Makahiki once unified entire islands through collective gratitude and celebration, so, too, can we weave joy and belonging into our local ecosystems, one seed, one smile and one shared meal at a time.
So, as the season shifts, remember, OGs, the Earth doesn’t scroll — she cycles. She grows, decays, rests, renews and remerges, and so can we. May the spirit of Makahiki inspire you to celebrate life wherever you are, and may your harvest be plentiful in food, friendship and the peace that comes from living pono: in righteous harmony with the Earth.
