Waiata, waiata, waiata, waiata, waiata, waiata, uplifted voices of men voices of woman, waiata, waiata, waiata, waiata, surrounded, the music the dance we play as I think of my New Zealand. Away from a home that always felt a home away from home but not a home. As I looked out from my footsteps into the turquoise pacific ocean from the long hook of Hawkes Bay, Napier. The endless summer of beaches and surf and sunshine. Winding coastal roads up and through valleys cast in deep shades of green forming dark dark and dense in places where it still fights any farmers whom bother to fight its resilience.
Resilience is what the New Zealand taught me and many others before me stranded out on the edge of the world back in those days restless and brooding and pacing those two small beautiful islands under that long white shroud of mystery. Draping across ridgeline over valley from end to end on a sad day any day there could become sadder. Middle Zealand that shroud falls cool on us all down deep under in and on the land and landscape sawing up and down the north her central plateau smokestack mountains Tongariro
Today I came back for a visit, from memory, to reflect upon to run a stick on her longing sandy beaches washed clean in this tide as we await the next. Lifting us, urging us, freeing our boat from the fast sands gripping maw. The undertow here can take you down into a deathly place of dreed and moaning cry under the long white cloud. At night drifting to sleep I would be carried away far off into the unknown, the unknowable as upon waking grabbing at pieces of memory from dreams they disintegrate as soon as touched and no matter how hard I try to hold them, their fleeting insights they become mere reflections on wet sands washed free of memory.
She grips at me tight like the night warmed against me. A steady raw wind pushing at our sails opening up worlds under holy star charts, they twinkle like magical notes brewing, now we brew up dreams to be blown away to islands and continents into western sunsets. Jungles untamed or tempered by sunrise, not for mere men only warriors of our cross, our crossing over this oceans toss and fall, riding on our prayers rowing our hopes, as I escape the cold grip of my own dark lands. Those shrouded islands draped upon me, her songs in the misty hills far away now, but her lessons live deep within me anchored to the very land.
I have no longing no regrets only dreams that stretch to out before me as we sail. We sailed away under starry light as night crawls into day, chasing the setting sun. Pushing up the against the Chilean south eastern coastal islands thick cold verdant cautious eyes looking out and upon coming landfall as the real journey begins. That shroud draws close warming me to fond thoughts and lessons from the land that grew me, in me now beyond me, we are closer now than farther we ever were, out on, across this ocean.
The further away the stronger the drive to go on deeper into the mystery of God as he is ever revealing and concealing of his will through us all. I was always looking for God and he was always so very close, even closer the further away I got in my searching. I was called and I answered that call in came as nature grows strong and resilient exacting precise form thoughts of prue longing and that divine ache of true beauty that reaches into our loneliness and eases that longing for mere moments for life is a salty wound.
That’s when I asked God into this temple he’s given me, this holy vessel, his rushing in, that filled all my emptiness and now it rushes out of me still, waters cool and deep that air his breath each the breath we all breathe , his presence simple and self evident every exhaltered inhalation Gods divine expression. We are here now, and it all feels so normal so as his nature intended. We are called everyday to question and think about what to trust and what to doubt. And there is no doubt that we are under constant moral and spiritual attacks from that edifice of deep deception.
And if today I know anything, this I know. There is no reset, there is no option button. Here is just the forward momentum holding up the values of ages, the recognition of beauty over ugliness. We have that vision we dream those same dreams, her and I, for a bright light shining out from everylife. Humanity is resilience adaptation and persistence of will against the odds. Here we find our reason, our truth our locus divine driven on strong winds charting the last wilderness oceans of our souls.
From where this waiata came until where it ends, this is that “waiata” our song the voices of our ancestry held here in us from the beginning of time at that separation of heaven and earth. The clap of light, wind and rains on the fertile plains our imaginations filled with breath. All but an instant in this one perfect moment when we are touched by the light so that we may fight back against the darkness that crawls this earth. God bless one and all in their journeys through fair or foul seas for now and forever more.