There is a glimmer, gasping for air, buried beneath the humdrum – beneath the rumblings of the daily mele life that takes all other breaths away.
Don’t stop inhaling and just trust that the thrust of gems, buried under the skin will begin to sing their songs of long forgotten facets, carat weights of wisdom, nourishment straight from the source.
Of course you have to know the precious lullabies are there first, before you can hear them.
We live so many lies, fictions foist upon us by the dead theater. They are like the screen refresh, they constantly flicker fantasies of falling into the dreamworld of dementia. We forget the shimmer of sense and replace it with repellent ridicule. We absorb the toxic teleology of televised trauma and take for granted the nature of now as noxious.
But those are simple, simple lies, that can be broken down and erased over time, so we can be human again.
I have had an intense, but thought provoking few days in Hopuhopu. I don’t yet know as many of the aspects of things that happened at Hopuhopu in recent history as I should. But it was a military base during World War One. When I see whenua that was occupied by the military in the past, my puku always tells me that the whenua was most probably taken by force, which indeed it was.
I woke up there yesterday morning at dawn and went for a run. The sun was still low in the sky and had not yet risen above the mountain range beyond the Hauraki plains in the distance, obscured by Taupiri Maunga in the foreground.
The red glow made me feel like fire, and reminded me of Tarawera; that hidden but palatable force of nature rising to the surface. It’s a tohu for me that things are coming so I need to stay alert and battle ready. I cannot tell whether I am preparing for an attack or defense, but either way I must not stay still.
I don’t know why, but the whole time there, at a research wananga, I felt like crying…I still feel like crying. Things that people said bought many feelings of the past to the surface.
I always keep my emotions in check because when I do not, they rage beyond my control. Sometimes sensations refuse to stay inside and I explode. It doesn’t happen often but when it does I get scared, mostly because I cannot cognize the person I become. I become instinct – reactionary and brutal.
And so my crystal methodologies manifest, like mirrors of clarity and collision they coalesce turmoil into tacit tactics of trance-like maneuvers; they begin the battle beat, beat, beat, my heart heats up and I know I moving again.
I have been fearful with uncertainty, but now I embrace the embargoed emotions and turn the tides of trauma into theory, practice and patience.
No more pretending.