Once a month, Desiree Cruz joins some 300 visitors on the 4,000-foot summit of Kilauea Volcano for Hula Kahiko, part of the free Hula Arts at Kilauea program sponsored by the Volcano Art Center. She has been coordinating this presentation of the ancient style of hula for five years, and it always fills her with a sense of pride and awe.

“We don’t add lighting, electronic amplification or special effects for this performance,” Cruz said. “It’s simply the beauty and power of the kumu’s and dancers’ voices and movements in a natural setting. It is authentic hula, the way it was shared in Hawaii centuries ago.”

Cruz has been dancing hula since she was 6; more than a pastime, it has shaped her life and worldview. While attending public schools in Palolo Valley in the 1970s, she remembers her teachers implying that the Hawaiian culture was not meaningful or relevant.

“Through hula I’ve learned the opposite is true,” Cruz said. “Hawaiians were guided by a complex belief system and social structure based on a deep respect for nature, their gods, their alii (rulers), their kupuna (elders) and their ancestors. Hula epitomizes that.”

Prior to Western contact, Hawaiians had no written language; instead, they created oli (chants) to perpetuate their genealogy, describe the wonders of nature, celebrate the heroic deeds of gods and note royal births and other significant events. Hula enhanced those stories and was also a key aspect of religious ceremonies.

When the first Christian missionaries arrived in 1820 and saw hula, they viewed it as a lewd, heathen practice and forbade their new converts from continuing it. Over the next 50 years, people performed hula in secret, but it wasn’t seen in public again until King Kalakaua revived it during his reign from 1874 to 1891.

Hula halau from throughout the islands have danced on the lawn near the Volcano Art Center in Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park for 44 years. The Hula Kahiko performance usually takes place on the third Saturday of each month on a kahua hula (platform) built by hand in 1982 using the traditional Hawaiian dry-stack method of masonry (no mortar binds the stones).

Measuring 31 feet wide, 19 feet deep and 3-1/2 feet high, the platform was constructed from lava rocks collected in the area. The late hula master Edith Kanakaole chose this location for the platform because it affords a spectacular view of Halemaumau Crater, said to be the home of Pele, the volcano goddess. Dancers always face Halemaumau to pay homage to Pele and draw energy from her.

Hula Kahiko lasts an hour, rain or shine. In fact, it is often at its most dramatic when an ethereal mist drapes the kahua hula and the surrounding forest of koa and ohia. “You are in the realm of Pele, and you feel her presence all around you,” Cruz said. “Her mana is undeniable.”

Following the performance, many spectators head to the gallery’s porch to participate in Na Mea Hula (Hula Things), which features displays, demonstrations and hands-on learning. The focus during these two hours might be lei making, lau hala weaving, hula implements, bamboo stamp design or a simple hula or oli.

Hula Voices is a third component of Hula Arts at Kilauea. Launched last year, this intimate monthly “talk story” gathering at the gallery spotlights Hawaii island kumu hula, dancers, musicians and artisans, such as feather workers and lei and kapa makers.

Topics range from hula etiquette and protocol to inspiration for songs, chants and choreography.

“It also enables attendees to gain valuable insights about hula from the people who live and breathe it and to hear amazing stories that might otherwise never be told. Hula at Kilauea is truly hula from the heart,” Cruz said.

Cheryl Chee Tsutsumi is a Honolulu-based freelance writer whose travel features for the Star-Advertiser have won several Society of American Travel Writers awards.