At the waharoa

I see faces from my past and am trying so hard not to be triggered. Hinetitama appears before me, her face in her hands. I tell her that we have moved past this phase of life now. We don’t have to live with shame. Some manu chatter in the trees nearby. I gather my things and step out of the car. Flick my eyes around while locking the door, trying to look bored.

Whiro asks: “Why did you wear that? You’re gonna stand out like dogs balls!”

I ignore him and walk towards my cousins. We greet and make small talk while we wait to be called on to the marae.

Whiro whispers: “Shush. Don’t speak! You’re gonna say something dumb”. His hand reaches around from behind me, trying to cover my mouth. I turn my head away.

I understand that Whiro is the most human of our atua. I forgive him. In his fear he tries to protect me. Perhaps he is the sensitive one. I’m unsure, I’m still getting to know all of my atua. Whiro causes me the most pain. He is often demonized too (been there).

I claim him in love. I definitely do, or have done, the same type of shit he does/has done. For example, I:

—Try to delay/sabotage change.

-Makutu others (in secret and absolutely not thinking that that’s what I was doing! But ill-will is a form of makutu in my understanding. And I envision a TON of dark shit when I feel wounded by another, even if I don’t act on it).

- Try and control everything and think I know best.

But I can’t love myself and not accept the Whiro part of me. I wouldn’t be complete. It wouldn’t be genuine aroha, inclusive and unconditional.

Whiro has been talking to me all day actually. Telling me not to post my writing online. Because if I bare my soul it will not be pretty. I’m too inappropriate, uncool, uncouth. Too much! I also have a potty mouth.

“What if your Mother reads this? “ He hisses.

Well, she’s lasted this long in this town and her eyes and ears haven’t fallen off yet.

Plus, Ruaumoko has been making his presence known quite clearly lately. If I don’t direct and express his fiery energy then my own inner landscape will bear the moko for it. I’m not sure if there’s any room left for the scarring (previous master of suppression over here). I’m also pretty sure I don’t have any youthful energy left to hold the lava flow back. I’ll start with posting this first little piece of writing. The karanga reaches my ears. A new manu joins the chorus. We proceed forward.