Two nights before I went to Maui, I was sleeping in the Manoa valley—gently dreaming of I know not what. The doors and windows to the apartment were open to catch the cooling summer breeze. I woke from sleep when I heard a man’s voice say, “Hello.” My first thought was that someone had entered the apartment and I didn’t want to open my eyes lest an uninvited visitor present himself. I held still and listened—no other sound—no one breathing. (for I was unconsciously holding my breath) I turned my attention to the open window behind me, knowing that a stone wall was back there, but someone could be standing by the water spigot. Slowly I opened my eyes and looked around the room. No one. Then I turned my head and looked out the window. No one. Then I realized it had been a disembodied voice calling to me from the spirit world. “At least he’s friendly,” I said to myself and went back to sleep, little knowing that a couple days later I would hug the source of that voice. “You need to consider the winds,” he said. “Yes. Great idea. I just finished the book ‘The Wind Gourd of La’amaomao.” Of course—he already knew. I smiled to myself. Thus is the magic of Hawaii manifest.