Leleakuhonua

Reflecting on our soul's migration through this multidimensional lens

Le-le

kū

honua

Leleākūhonua.

Pronounce each letter, find the intonation then perhaps sing or chant each syllable until something lyrical emerges from staccato beginnings!

Leleākūhonua is a dwarf planet who has been gradually making its way into my consciousness for about a year.

Leleākūhonua was first observed by astrologers in 2015, when our advancing technology met the trajectory of a dwarf planet, thought to have a 55,000-year orbit.

Wow!

Of-course, 2015 was a year of immense human migration, with over a million refugees traversing Europe and this “discovery event” (a world event that occurred close to the discovery – or uncovery, or recovery, of an astrological body) will have influenced the eventual naming of the body.

What is it teaching us today?

Leleākūhonua, the dwarf planet, was named after Leleākūhonua, a flock of Kolea, or Pacific Golden Plovers from the Hawaiian creation chant. One of the extraordinary things about these small birds, is their long annual migration from the arctic to Hawaii and back and the incredible bodily adaptations they make to undertake such a mission.

And by contemplating this symbolism, weaving it together with further “discovery” events, the physical characteristics of the dwarf planet, understandings from Polynesian mythology and astrological interpretations, we can gain new insights and invoke new meaning for the times in our personal or collective lives, when Leleākūhonua has been especially active.

This is what I’ve been doing over the last 6 weeks, with other students at the Dwarf Planet University – several of whom, along with Alan Clay, DPU’s founder and lead teacher, undertook the initial research on this “new” dwarf planet, or astrological body, or consciousness. My sincere thanks to all of them for their hard work and beautiful insights.

Interestingly, and unsurprisingly, one of the times that Leleākūhonua has been highly active for me was between 2020 and 2024. So, I’ve been reflecting on these years through a different lens, a Leleākūhonua lens that invites me to consider the inner and outer migrations that I’ve made.

To consider my soul’s journey,

to consider which archetypes have influenced me over these years,

which ancestral messages from the deep past have returned to my awareness

and what adaptations and reroutes have I needed to make to navigate the journey.

Why not sit a while to contemplate – ask yourself

What soulful migrations have I made, either recently, or at some time in the past?

I finally posted my assignment, a summary of what could have been a veritable soap-opera, complete with amazing experiences, intense emotions, complex story lines, dramatic character development, and the rise and fall of various protagonists, just as we passed Samhain. How appropriate to undertake such a reflection at that time when gratitude for the last harvest, and early preparation for the next are encouraged.

What is to be preserved for replanting?

What can be consumed and digested now?

What goes into the compost – rich ground for the next season’s growth?

And my timing also coincided with the thin days between years in the Celtic tradition, the time of acknowledging and offering thanks to our ancestors, a time to sit and importantly, to consider what sort of ancestor I want to be.

Ask with me

What kind of world do I want for our children, grandchildren and on – seven generations ahead?

And what changes do I need to make, individually and collectively, starting now, to make manifest such a future world?

Leleākūhonua speaks of the huge missions required of us to change our environment, to move from the place where resources are running low to one of abundance. She speaks about the connection between the earth and sky, body and spirit and the interdependence of all life – and demonstrates her ability to navigate both worlds. As an integral part of her flock, she will take the lead, then fall back into the slipstream, as another pioneers the way.

The young Kolea migrate instinctually – they know the way; it’s in their hard-wiring. And they constantly adjust their path, fine tuning the route using sensory and extrasensory perceptions, exquisitely attuned to their environment, both earth and sky.

Can we remember how to do the same?