The 'ohi'a lehua bowed against the morning breeze. I rolled to my right side and peered at the alarm clock. It was 3:45 a.m.

A faint light brushed underneath my bedroom door. Where was my husband?

I swung my legs onto the oak floor and padded into the hallway. A lone lamp cast shadows against the redwood wall.

The TV screen was spooling shows not yet seen. A slack-key instrumental accompanied the reel. The light from the television illuminated the body that lay snoring on the wooden floor.

"Oh, there he is," I thought to myself.

He must have been doing one of his late-night exercises and dozed off.

I began my morning kuleana, or responsibilities. I let the dog off his line, started a pot of coffee and wiped down the kitchen counter.

Then I heard a muffled voice.

"Hey, babe?" he groaned.

I glanced in the direction of the television. Our futon couch concealed my husband's frame.

But pointing straight up in the air were two furry legs. He had placed the palms of his hands on each knee and was kneading them vigorously.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"I have no feeling from my knees down," came the muffled response.

"What happened?" I asked, toweling my hands dry and moving toward the futon.

He snapped his legs to the floor as I came into view.

"I was performing a yoga relaxation technique," he moaned. "I think I blew a chakra or two."

In ancient Hawai'i, the kahuna, or doctor, would treat people for ailments. One remedy was to crush nioi (chili pepper) and pound Hawaiian salt into the mixture to make a poultice.

The practitioner would apply the potion on "aching muscles and to areas of the body afflicted with rheumatism," writes scholar Donald Kilolani Mitchell in "Resource Units in Hawaiian Culture."

I did not have a nioi bush, but we did have Chinese tiger balm. I offered a few dabs to my ailing husband.

"Right now, I'm in a lot of pain and agony," he whimp-ered, rolling stiffly to one side. "This is something even the leading topical analgesic company cannot relieve."

"What pose were you performing when your knees gave out?" I asked.

"It was the setu bandha sarvangasana," he moaned. "Or what some refer to as the bridge pose."

"I'm sorry that I can't help you," I said and headed over to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee.

I washed the few dishes that were in the sink and peeked outside. The night sky was cluttered with flickering stars. I crept over to the television to check on my husband.

He was fast asleep.

I guess his chakra was on temporary hiatus.

Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana section, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Hono-lulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com.