In the beginning, when the islands were young and the ocean still sang the names of the gods, there lived Hina, the woman of radiant spirit, daughter of divine lineage, and sister to Māui the trickster. She was born of heavenly parents, her eyes gleaming with the soft silver of dawn and her hair flowing like the first darkness after sunset. Among mortals she walked, though her essence was that of light, drawn neither to earth nor sky, but to the mystery between them.
Hina was known across the islands as a weaver, not merely of cloth, but of destiny. From the bark of the wauke tree she fashioned kapa so fine that even the wind paused to admire its whisper. Each thread glowed faintly in moonlight, shimmering with the mana of the gods. Chiefs and kings sought her craft, yet none could hold her gaze, for she was restless, her heart burdened with the knowledge that life upon the earth was fleeting and bound by decay.
She saw men age and women fade, flowers wilt and rivers dry. “Why,” she asked the silent sea, “should beauty end? Why must all that is radiant fall into shadow?” And the sea, ancient and deep, gave her no answer, only the reflection of her own face, luminous against the waves.
One night, weary of the mortal breath that tethered her, Hina climbed the cliffs of her homeland, where the wind roared like divine blood. There, she gazed upon the moon, the eternal light that rose unending. Its silver path stretched across the ocean like a calling. “There,” she whispered, “lies the home of unwithering beauty.” She resolved to ascend to that celestial realm, to forsake mortality and claim her place among the eternal.
But her journey would not be without trial. For to rise beyond the human sphere, one must face the forces that bind the soul, fear, desire, and the pull of the earth itself.
Hina first sought the rainbow, the bridge of the gods, whose seven colors arched between worlds. Yet when she stepped upon its luminous bands, the wind of mortality blew against her, and the colors wavered. She fell back to earth, her heart breaking like a shell upon the shore. The people found her there, weeping beneath the palms. “Stay, Hina,” they pleaded. “Your weaving brings beauty to our world.”
But she answered, “I weave for the heavens now.”
She next journeyed to the sea, calling upon her mother, the goddess Haumea, to grant her passage. The ocean heaved and churned, and from its depths rose a great fish, the guardian of the undersea realm. Upon its back Hina rode, seeking the horizon where sky meets water. Days passed, and still the moon beckoned. But the fish, weary of carrying divine weight, dove beneath the waves. Hina was cast adrift, surrounded by endless sea.
She did not despair. She gathered the light around her like a cloak, her spirit burning brighter than the stars. Then, from the heavens, the moon opened a path of silver mist, drawing her upward in a spiral of shimmering breath. She climbed, hand over hand, until the ocean was a dark jewel beneath her and the stars hummed in her veins.
At last she reached the moon, cool, pure, and silent. There she found her rest. No hunger, no sorrow, no fading touch of time remained. Her body became light, her spirit eternal. From that day forth, Hina shone upon the world she had left, guardian of renewal, keeper of cycles, and symbol of feminine strength transcending decay.
Yet even in her celestial peace, she remembered the earth. Each night she watched the people below: the mothers weaving, the children laughing, the waves whispering against her island’s shore. And as she waned and waxed, she gave her light in rhythm, a reminder that all endings are but beginnings, that death itself is a pause in the eternal weave.
In some tellings, she returns as the full moon, bathing her homeland in light so that no heart might forget her journey. The women who weave under her glow call her Hina-i-ka-malama, Hina of the Moon, she who found immortality not through conquest, but through transcendence. Her legend endures not as a tale of flight from mortality, but as the hymn of one who found divine harmony between flesh and spirit, the eternal in the ephemeral.
And so the moon still rises, bright and patient, over the waters of Tahiti and Hawaii. It is Hina’s face the people see, serene, ageless, and radiant, whispering to them across the ages:
“Do not fear the fading of light. For in each shadow lies a seed of dawn.”
Author’s Note
This retelling draws from Tahitian and Hawaiian myth cycles, notably as preserved in Martha Beckwith’s Hawaiian Mythology (University of Hawaii Press, 1940).
Hina’s story reveals the ancient Polynesian reverence for the moon as both mother and mirror, a symbol of cyclical life, renewal, and divine femininity. Her ascent from mortality to divinity reflects the Polynesian ideal of mana, spiritual power achieved through balance, endurance, and transcendence. Unlike heroes who conquer through might, Hina’s victory lies in wisdom and surrender, a journey inward as much as upward. She remains one of the most beloved figures in Polynesian mythology, embodying the luminous strength of women and the eternal rhythm of creation.
Knowledge Check
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What divine ability or talent is Hina most associated with in Hawaiian and Tahitian mythology?
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What motivates Hina to seek the moon and abandon earthly life?
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Describe one of the trials she faces on her journey to immortality.
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How does Hina’s transformation symbolize the moon’s cycle of waxing and waning?
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What lesson does Hina’s story teach about the nature of mortality and renewal?
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How does Hina’s legacy influence Polynesian cultural views of femininity and divine balance?
Source: Martha Beckwith, Hawaiian Mythology (University of Hawaii Press, 1940).
Cultural Origin: Tahitian and Hawaiian Myth Cycles.
