Bay all day

image

Ever realised that you live in one of the most beautiful places in the world but you truly don’t know that…in a way.

Have you ever swam in your river but that’s the only part you’ve ever explored?

Have you ever taken a photo of your maunga but that’s the only angle you’ve ever seen it from?

Have you ever lay in your wharenui looking up at the kowhaiwhai, ran your fingers across the tukutuku, looked at the pou but that’s the only understanding you have of them?

Have you ever??????

I challenge you. Honestly I challenge you. One day go a little further up your awa, climb your maunga just a little higher, spend more time in your whare and get to know your tipuna a little more.

There is no better feeling than feeling like you have somewhere you belong. And why do you belong? Because you truly know who you are. You know the mountains your tipuna lived on, you know the rivers that they drank from, you know the art form that they are now.

You know.

You belong.

Advertisements

Hoki ki o maunga

image

There’s something about climbing maunga that I don’t enjoy.
The pain your body suffers.
The amount of times you have to push yourself.
The never ending nearly there moments and the struggle.

But ohhhhhhh there’s something about climbing maunga that gets me all excited.
The journey, 
the climb, 
the view,
the feeling,
and the accomplishment.

I liken climbing maunga to the journey in life. Only just last night I hit rock bottom. My maunga didn’t feel worth it anymore.

I couldn’t take the pain I was suffering.
I didn’t want to push myself anymore.
I felt like I was nowhere near the top.

Let me tell you something about climbing maunga.
The journey is beautiful so keep on keeping on.
The climb is hard but you will get there.
The view is worth it so look a little further.
The feeling is exhilarating just wait and see.
The accomplishment?  That’s nothing. Look at your journey you soldier.

Keep on climbing. In the words of the once wise Hannah Montanna. Now she is so dopey so don’t listen to her words..lol.

There’s always gonna be another mountain.
I’m always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose
Ain’t about how fast I get there,
Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side
It’s the climb…

Hoki ki o maunga kia pure ai nga hau a Tawhirimatea…

Growing up without a role model

CFXT43GUsAELxsn.jpg

In all honesty it felt like shit.

I have a biological mum, I have a biological sister. I know them, they know me. But I don’t truly know them and they truly do not know me.

I grew up my whole life without a motherly figure, without a sisterly figure. It’s one of the hardest challenges I face even to this day.

At the age of 5 I remember my Dad struggling to tie my hair.

At the age of 8 I remember my first crush. I had a step sister who I told everything. She was like my real sister. She still is to this day. But there is nothing like wanting to tell your big sister things like this.

At the age of 10 I remember the first time we moved far away from my mum and sister. I remember being confused and yearning for them. I remember wanting a motherly hug, or a sisterly talk. I remember waking up in the middle of the night in Porirua and wondering how they were.

At the age of 11 I remember my first day of being a “sister-mum”. My brother and I were split from both our parents. Crying. I told him everything would be ok. I remember feeling protective.

At the age of 12 I remember how uncomfortable it was going through puberty. It was the worst experience.

At age of 13 I remember having my first kiss. I had no idea back then. I hadn’t been taught. Are we supposed to be taught?

At age of 14 I fell in love and I never even knew what it was.

At age of 15 my father left and my sister mum kicked in again. I had no idea how to take care of a home, let alone myself and my brother. I remember crying myself to sleep almost every night.

At age of 19 I still struggle with the challenges of being a woman.

 

Now that I think of it. I had all the role models anyone could ever ask for. My Aunty Shirleanne showed me how to be a sister. My Grandmother taught me how to protect myself as a woman. My cousins taught me how to dress like a lady. My step sisters showed me what a sister was. My step mum gave me love. My Aunties on the Coast showed me a mother I will forever be grateful for.

 

My mum is an amazing woman. My mum just isn’t the type of mum I ever want to be. But I love her and thank her everyday for making me who I am.

 

Love and light to you all. My sisters holding it down! Xox.

Teeny boppa lovin’

Young-Love-Quotes-7

Good old after school bus kisses, cute facebook profile pictures and compliments on being the “cutest couple out”.

E-Yes high school relationships are ALL that they seem. Kissy kissy, huggy huggies. Teen love is amazing. But is it really love? Do we know love?

I spent 3 years of high school day dreaming in teen love life land. Don’t get me wrong I remember some of the best times of my life…

But did I grow?

Grow in the way a teenager is supposed to…however that may be.

Did I just “join” the trend of young relationships?

Would I go back and change it all?

Or was I really in love?

I was only fourteen when I thought I fell “in love” with my partner. He was an amazing boy. Clever, smart, funny and sensual. He made me feel things no one made me feel. Back then I thought he was “the one”. Whatever the one means.I loved him…well at least I thought I did.

 

But as we got older…in teenage years the ignorance of love became arduous. I found myself crying over little things, getting hurt from a simple “hello” to another girl. He started to make me feel things I had never felt before. Pain, sorrow, hurt over the simplest of things. It was all so confusing at the age of 15. But we still “loved” each other. Well at least we thought we did.

Minutes, hours, days, months and years passed and I still think back and wonder what I would have done different if I wasn’t in so called “love”.

I became insecure, uncomfortable, agitated and jealous at things that didn’t even matter. At the age of 16 I felt all these things and now that I think back I wonder if it was worth it.

But did I grow? To answer my own question, I did grow. I grew emotionally. I was and am able to understand how emotions make you feel. I wish I grew literally (lol). I grew in the way in which I was able to mature in a different way. And for that I am thankful. I grew in a way in where I learnt how to say no because that is always important.

Grow in the way a teenager is supposed to…however that may be. But did I grow in a way a teenager is supposed to? Mentally, spiritually, emotionally, physically (LOL again)? Mentally yes in a way. Spiritually no because it hurt more than it felt good. Emotionally yes. Physically yes in a way but no in the purest of ways. To be honest, I wish I had waited.

Did I just “join” the trend of young relationships? Yes. I sure did. It was the “trend” then and is still the trend now. Is it a problem? Probably not but if we were taught how to love or even about love then maybe it would be easier. I’m unsure, just rambling on.

Would I go back and change it all? No I wouldn’t. He was probably one of the best things that happened to me in those years. Literally saved my life. But would I change the way in which I went about some things? I sure would. I’d change the way we handled each other both emotionally and physically. I’d be more respectful of each other. I would focus more. Focus on school, focus on family, focus on loving, focus on giving.

Or was I really in love? I sure was. I fell in love with him because he loved me more than I loved myself.

Tips and advice? Love yourself, take care of yourself, be yourself. Don’t change for anyone else. Young love is real but young love is dangerous. Education, family and yourself first relationship second. You have all your life to love.
Love and light teeny boppa lovers. Stay safe out there x.

She doesn’t even need us

12278808_512681558906247_7287550476481009092_n.jpgMy hands are stained with the blood of my mother.

My nose has been polluted with the stench of her beauty.

My eyes have seen the pain she suffers as we watch and preach this nonviolence campaign towards her.

My body has been clothed with the sense of her mahanatanga.

I, am a hypocrite.

I speak of this no-drilling yet I am a user of the production. I speak of this no tree chopping yet I am guided by the warmth of it’s produce. I, am a hypocrite.

I speak of this pollution free sea yet you still see me downing food from the killer itself we call plastic. I, am a fake.

I call myself a kaitiaki of Papatuanuku yet each day as I am cruising in my car on these man made wounds we call roads. I, am an abuser.

I call myself a descendant of Tāne yet I’m daily ripping pages filled with mistakes and unknown answers. I, am a waster.

I call myself a protecter of Tangaroa yet each day as I bag the daily rubbish. I, am an offender.

I, am a hypocrite. If this is me and if this is you, we, are hypocrites. We, need, solutions.