whanaungatanga. the Māori word that means relationship, kinship, a sense of family connection. Relationship built or strengthened through kinship, shared experiences, and working together in a way that cultivates a sense of belonging. As I have come to understand it, it also comes with rights and obligations, a collective responsibility which serve to strengthen each member of the group and the group as a whole.
It’s February 16th, the day Ayrie would have turned 13. I work up in Raglan, New Zealand with this word in my head.
I have been here for two weeks and I feel whanaungatanga deeply.
With my colleagues who feel more like family than friends. With the people I workshopped with over the past two weeks. With my kin in America.
mauri. the Māori word that means ‘ma’ (to be connected to, bound to, linked to, joined to) and ‘uri’ (descendents, all things, seen and unseen), or a connection to all living (and non-living) things both seen and unseen
It’s February 16th, the day Ayrie would have turned 13. I work up in Raglan, New Zealand with this feeling in my heart.
I have been here for two weeks and I feel mauri deeply.
With ayrie and my spiritual ancestors who seem to be dancing on every wave, riding on the wind, chattering through the bush. I feel their unbounded joy. I feel their hope for us. Their belief in and love for us that knows no end,
ayrie. the Latin word that means a large nest of an eagle, built high in a tree or on a cliff. An inaccessible place from which someone can observe what is below them. The boy who made me a mother on February 16, 2006. The boy who broke my heart open and taught me what love really is. The boy who broke my spirit open when he passed back to the other side on September 29, 2010.
It’s February 16th, the day Ayrie would have turned 13. I work up in Raglan, New Zealand with the feeling in my being that he is here.
I have been here for two weeks and I feel ayrie deeply.
Surfing with Shiya, in the light that sparkles and flows through the waves. In and around me as I claim evaluation as sacred work. On my shoulder, whispering into my ear at the workshops that this is someone I should know. Our meeting is no accident. Pushing my gently on my back, urging my into the open air whispering to me that this is something I can feel every day. Coaxing my to get up and type, whispering in my ear that I have a voice and this very moment is a time to write.