Refreshment and reflection: Time to come home

 

Well, that's it. 

After a crazy 16 months here in London, it is time to return home. 

I came here a bright eyed 30 year old who was looking to soak in as much as I could that the UK could throw at me. 

So much has happened in the time I have been here. From Extinction Rebellion protests to a landslide Conservative election win, from Covid to Brexit and everything inbetween. It has thrown a lot at me and everyone else that has been here, and to be honest it blows my mind how much has taken place here. But it has been incredibly beneficial.

I've learned a lot about myself in my short stint here. There have been some personal aspects, some professional. All important. I return to New Zealand a new person. A stronger and more assertive person. A kinder person who has learned more about my own capacities. 

A person I'm proud to be. 

As you can imagine it hasn't been smooth sailing, particularly in the last three months or so. My mental health has declined significantly and I know I'm in a recovery phase and will be for the next wee while. That said, I know I will be stronger and more resolute as a result of this. 

News about Wales' lockdown extension is blaring out of the radio in the Uber I'm currently writing this in. Coronavirus will continue to be a hot topic here and at home, but it is something I don't really want to discuss in any detail on my return. It's nothing personal, but just something I want to discuss with the right people. 

One thing I have learned about my time here is the importance of friendship and connection. I have been so humbled with the friendships I have forged here and I cannot wait to strengthen these into the future. I've also learned about the significance of gratitude, of living in the moment and surrounding yourself in great moments. I feel so lucky to have been here despite the circumstances and will always hold London, the British Science Association, Putney Cricket Club and my UK crew in my heart. 

There are still plenty of things I'm learning about myself and I can't wait to get back to my family, Dunedin, Uni Grange and the University of Otago. That said, I feel more and more comfortable with who I am and I'm pumped to continue on this amazing journey of life. 

I might need a few days to readjust to New Zealand life, and so might not respond immediately. But when I do, I'll be diving in headfirst with some exciting things planned. 

Until then, keep me in your thoughts and know I can't wait to catch up with you. Not long till it all becomes real.

Unfamiliar with familiarity

When I first arrived in the UK, there was an enormous sense of unfamiliarity. The streets, the heaths, the air, the sounds of accents. They all swirled together to create a cacophony of unfamiliarity that was overwhelming for my senses at first. My eyes brightened as a double decker bus drove past closely followed by the iconic black cab.

The unfamiliarity was exciting. This was the great opportunity to enjoy the ‘excitement of the unknown’, to tackle living outside of a comfort zone. There was also a reassuring feeling of knowing these streets I was walking down would soon become part of my vernacular. A walk down Marylebone Road, a stroll beside Putney Bridge and the River Thames, a loop around Richmond Park. There was plenty of excitement and wonder, where I would look upwards for street signs attached to buildings and listening for the next reminder to mind the gap on another delayed District line service to Wimbledon.

Over time the unfamiliarity and nervousness made way for confidence and a feeling of familiarity. This was what I came for. I felt a connection to this foreign world, not quite rooted to it but still bound tightly with an adhesive of vindication. A few people over time asked me for directions, and once I even knew where they were looking to go. I felt less like part of the London furniture and more like one of the 270-odd London Underground tube stations, such was the feeling of knowing I had immersed myself and settled into this new journey.

Despite the global pandemic, Brexit and other disturbing realities facing the UK, there remained this sense of familiarity throughout 2020. I walked the same streets, cycled the same routes, made really good friends, explored new horizons and savoured many new memories. I still savour them.

Yet as a new year dawned, an old feeling returned.

I’ll never forget the feeling on New Year’s Day of walking around one area of South West London that I had come to know reasonably well, and not knowing where I was. I knew the road names were the same, but the usual assuredness and confidence of being rooted to the area had reverted to the feeling of unfamiliarity I had erased 12 – no, 14 months earlier.

A more recent walk down my main street was just as eye opening. The accents, the air, the traffic - they were all drowned out by the echoing sound of my mask-encompassed breath. I walked into a shop and could only hear the muffled sounds of an impending lockdown announcement from the Prime Minister, but even then I hadn’t allowed the significance of the news bulletin to set in. It’s not that I couldn’t hear the voices, the cars, the steps – I just couldn’t tune into them out of COVID-induced apathy or fatigue. Maybe this resilience I thought was endless instead had been gorged on over the last 10 months. Maybe coping takes more spirit than I had anticipated. Maybe it still does.

I still go for regular walks on streets I know well here in SW London, and the mental marbling of familiarity and unfamiliarity is at times exhausting. January is the worst month of the year in England, and even moments of snowfall do not thaw what can become an icy time upstairs for most.

As if by some cruel dose of irony, I made this trip to escape the comfort zone I have back in New Zealand. To challenge myself and to almost test my levels of resilience. However, in times as troubling and toiling as the ones we find ourselves in here in England, and have done for months, I’ve realised familiarity is as essential as a hug from my mother and my nana. I’m desperately looking forward to both.

When I return home to New Zealand, I’m sure the streets of Dunedin will inevitably feel familiar, even if they may not recognise me. I return a relatively different person with an enhanced appreciation of friendships and family and just how important they are to topping up my resilience, recharging the batteries if you will. But I will also return ready to embrace a feeling of familiarity that I’ve lost here in the UK and hope to find again soon.

 

Disconnecting and reconnecting

In her final hour, the bright autumn sun enticed him to break the shackles.

Paths littered with leaves led to a track on a nearby reserve. Illuminated by the setting sun, it offered him a chance to disconnect. Could he take that chance?

The greeny fauna grabbed hold of the last glimmers of golden light, before silhouetted models of nature appeared in the afterglow of the setting sun.

The stillness gave way to snapped twigs and scrunched leaves. Dipping temperatures were complemented by pockets of warm air wafting down the path. Mother Nature's gentle, reassuring breaths provided a sense of comfort as her eyes started to close.

Wandering from the safety of the stony path, he started to climb. Before long, rows of proud pine stood out like shadows against ever-darkening blue hues.

A refreshingly cool temperature fuelled a satisfying breath as he returned to the main path. There was an air of achievement, of satisfaction. Was this what he came for?

Small illuminated messengers reassured him from above as the bluey hues deepened by the second. A nearby creek continued to offer gentle, reassuring wishes. Up ahead was a path towards a covered forest, a darkening hole that eventually led to the real world. 

As the darkness appeared to reign, a handful of glow worms reached out to his eyes. They knew they had to guide him through the next journey. The path appeared four shades lighter, and the pressure of returning to civilisation had eased. A furious march had slowed to a calm, content walk.

Artificial streetlights and the odour of log-burner fires greeted him with a misleading smile on the homeward descent, his encounter with nature feeling ever-more distant. Then it hit him.

 

His eyes looked up to find messengers scattered across the sky. They flickered in the distance, but shone brightly above his home. Nature nurtured his journey, and he knew it. 

The day had ended, but he knew the adventures of today were the start of a new beginning.

On Heriot Row

Here atop the 111 steps on Heriot Row is where my days begin and end. Every day presents a new challenge, a new opportunity to discover and to be enlightened. Realisations, learnings, theories - the lot. 

I'd left all these aspects of learning behind when I finished at university in 2010, but it's been a swift regathering exercise since. Of learning, yes, but in other aspects too - socialising, networking. Thoughts of what could be in the world and how to achieve it.

Reflections remain, but they're now at a more substantial level. Often days end with more questions than answers, but they're new questions that bring about different thoughts.

When the sun disappears with the temperatures, however, there's that little spot I can look back on and know that tomorrow is a chance to do it all again. Heriot Row.

The view of Dunedin from Heriot Row

Yes, if you haven't already noticed, I've become quite fond of my place in Dunedin almost two weeks after nana and I ended our four-day road trip from Picton to Dunedin. For most cities, temperatures are measured in degrees Celsius. For myself, I define a 'nice' or 'cold' day in Dunedin by the visible presence of my breath. As you can imagine, the 'Colds' are definitely outnumbering the 'Nices'

The thing with temperatures is, the colder it is outside, the more you appreciate the warmth inside and those that help create that warmth. I've been incredibly fortunate to have joined a centre, the National Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies, with so many friendly students and lecturers.

My first day spent wandering aimlessly around the centre was interrupted by a friendly interaction with a PhD student. She showed me around the area and kindly introduced me to the other, similarly friendly PhD students. The confidence gained from interacting with those studying at a higher level was infectious. I was ready to go.

Or so I thought. If Monday was a chance for me to gain some confidence and dominate proceedings in classes, my first seminar on Tuesday brought me straight back down to Earth.

Theories. Pedagogies. Examples of violence in education. Cultural violence. Galtung. Harris. Bajaj. Not only was I left feeling like the course wouldn't be one where I could learn at a comfortable level, but I felt like I was clutching onto a lifejacket in a pool of knowledge. A reality check at its harshest.

But those of you who have read my previous blog posts understand that's what part of the appeal for coming here in the first place was. The challenge of returning to university, of returning to a theoretical foundation for enlightement rather than a watercooler. Or the challenge of dealing with StudyLink.

And so come Wednesday, having looked back from Heriot Row the evening before, I checked out my second seminar and regained some confidence. It won't be an easy ride, but it'll be incredibly interesting. Who knows, you might even learn something along the way.

Aside from study, I've made a number of friends playing social rugby and popping up at a few social events. Transitioning into the academic way of thinking is something I'm striving for over the next 12 months, but not at the expense of my sanity or with the side-effect of loneliness. There have definitely been some fun nights out already, with karaoke, board games and a visit to the student bar in the mix. Like I told my mother on Thursday night, I'm pretty rapt with the company I keep.

And so now to Friday, where my first week has subsequently come to an end. Readings are taking place, assignments are on the mental radar and I'm armed with a remark that one of the lecturers gave in the second seminar. Peace and Conflict Studies courses are usually filled with people who want to change the world for the better. It's one of our only commonalities.

For some that may mean helping to establish more peace-building mechanisms in the Pacific, for others it could be the opportunity to eradicate cultural or structural violence. For others it might mean reforming StudyLink altogether.

That nugget, an unconscious collective agreement to bettering the world, is something I can't help but see in the other Masters students now for the future. We mightn't have much of a clue at present about  what we want to do for a dissertation due next year, for the in-class assignment next week or with the big essay due after mid-semester, but there is something we all have a common bond over. Changing the world for good.

And for me, that starts again tomorrow on Heriot Row.

A fond, yet final farewell

The wind's whispering through my window shutters again. It built to a scowl before fading to a whisper in a near melodic pattern. The despairing pockets of noise contrast the reassuring patters of rain on the roof.

Mother Earth's latest harmony was interrupted by an alarm bleating through my phone. There's a small comfort - it'll be the last time I'm awaken for work before my big move.

It's a big day, but it doesn't feel like one. The morning routine - getting out of bed, scurrying my way through breakfast before rushing my way out the door - is the standard one. The only real exception is I've not forgotten my keys, wallet or cellphone. It's a good day.

While catching a bus to work, I get a precious few minutes to help begin something I've needed to do for some time - to reminisce on my time in Auckland; to bring a significant chapter of my life to an end.

I let the brain reflect for the next 15 to 20 minutes. Instead of finding memories aligned to music, my mind takes me through a journey from when it all began on February 4, 2007.

Minutes go by, moments flash past the windows as my final stop on the journey, in both a literal and a metaphoric sense, looms. It doesn't take long for memories to return, for friends to star in another micro feature and to flick through chapters of victory and despair.

My time in Auckland started when I was 18, a fresh-faced kid who had a pretty good idea of what he wanted in life. It's crazy to think what has happened since.  

A Bachelor of Communications, two stints as a full time sports reporter, a job as a reporter in the Cook Islands, 15 months at NewstalkZB and Radio Sport. And that has been just the professional life to date.

Many friends, few enemies, fewer girlfriends and no regrets. There have been times to work, times to play, times when work felt like play, and unfortunately when play felt like work. There were colleagues, peers, teammates, flatmates and family - all within this madness of a city with 1.5 million people.

My journey through Auckland life has been a mixed bag. From the defiant disdain upon my arrival in 2007 and 2008, to adoration and infatuation upon my return from Rarotonga in 2013. Each year holding different memories that were all reflected on over 30 minutes.

I arrive at work just like any other day. I get started and banter away with my team just like any other day. And then it hits me an hour before my leaving presentation. It'll be over soon.

We had enough time as an online team to reminisce before the wee presentation, and my emotional self came to the fore to the surprise of at least one radio host.

The rest of the remaining two and a half hours is a blur. Can't remember any of it. All I do recall is the feeling of a grey, near-muted mindset as people offered their hugs, well wishes and goodbyes. They are a great team, and my final night with the work team emphasised my adoration for the group of madmen I proudly got to call my colleagues for 15 months.

And so to my last night in Auckland, where a few people from the years tonight will gather to celebrate, reminisce and enjoy each other's company - many of whom probably don't know many of the others.

But for me that's all part of this adventurous life we get to live. As I tried to tell my colleagues on my last day, one thing in life that constantly fuels me is the evolution of character, and that for me comes through turning the uncomfortable into comfort. By owning the lemons, and turning them into lemonade.

I will miss the city; the bright lights, plentiful opportunities and quizzical characters that are scattered throughout it. But for now, it is the end of a hefty chapter. 

I've never been a prolific reader, and I would often go back and skim through previous chapters to ensure my head was clued up with everything. That's a little similar to this, I guess. There will be times to reflect, to go back and 'skim read' through the numerous events I went through in my time here, but that's for the future.

Tomorrow morning won't be like the others. There won't be a bus ride to work, no lengthy walk to get the juices flowing. Instead, as the sun peaks through, I'll be on my way to Wellington, and eventually Dunedin, where a whole new story awaits.

So long Auckland. You've taught me to be open to change and to accept any opportunities that present themselves. Thank you for helping me find some incredible friends and family along the way. 

And to those Auckland friends, family and anyone else inbetween, thank you for helping shape me. Please do stay in touch, and continue to build character.

Kia kaha, kia maia, kia manawanui.

Matiu

A Bouquet

There are few things better than witnessing a couple's love publicly declared to friends and family. Even more so when it helps you learn something you can apply forever.

I was fortunate enough to go to a wedding over the last week out at Ardmore's Belsaas Estate. The bride, Frances, is someone I consider a friend first and a (now former!) colleague second. I didn't meet Ben before the wedding but having chatted with him during the reception, his affection was clear and that was special to witness.

The wedding was beautiful and, at times, lucky. Rain was scheduled to pour through the region on the Saturday afternoon - hardly ideal for the estate's outdoor setting. But the ceremony, led by Anna Cross, went off without a hitch and not a drop of rain fell during the wedding.

A lot of people like these occasions for different reasons. The couple's love is palpable as the bride walks down the aisle, as the groom's smile breaks through the appearance of being cool, calm and collected. As romance fills the air.

For most, this is the highlight of the weddings. Usually I'd agree, but this wedding was different. For me, the most beautiful moment didn't come from either Frances or Ben, but from the groom's mother.

She was given the task of doing a reading to start the ceremony. It touched me from the moment she started talking:

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. 

"Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. 

"No, don't blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being "in love", which any fool can do. 

"Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident" - Captain Corelli's Mandolin

My mind was blown. There it was. A version of love that I hadn't ever investigated before. A new day had dawned internally and I was so entranced I couldn't tell you what happened after it. I presume they eventually said yes to each other.

My intrinsic idea of love was nothing like what Ben's mother was talking about. I had no idea that there were differences between being in love, and loving someone. My idea of 'love' stems purely from pop culture, where we're saturated with high hopes, fantasies and dreams of princesses, knights on steeds and promises of eternal affection.

The reading's interpretations of volcanoes and a temporary madness were what I thought were the foundations. I was wrong.

It sounds almost crazy, especially for a 26-year-old Maori fulla. But that's what had become natural and the standard train of thought inside my head. Until the wedding.

I couldn't help but think of the last bit for a lengthy amount of time afterwards. "...this is both an art and a fortunate accident". Had there ever been a more succinct and more beautiful way to illustrate what love was, I thought. 

--

It forced a change in me that I see as part of my maturation. This new thought is another step away from the naive, from the wishful and emotion-based perceptions of the world around me.




The beauty of it is you can take it a step further. Why not just limit this to love when it comes to other people. Why don't we learn to love ourselves by these very guidelines?

I've always viewed the world as three quarters full while hiding issues of my own. I guess most people do that. They're things I haven't really actively tried to shed, but things I know need addressing so as not to cultivate a fabricated volcano.

It's hard to believe but these thoughts all flowed through my mind throughout the 45 seconds or so of the reading. The mental enlightenment from those words was overwhelming but exciting, a beautiful bouquet stumbled upon along my boulevard of self-discovery.

--

Frances and Ben's wedding was beautiful for so many reasons. Not only did the wedding go off without a hitch, but the rain didn't arrive until everybody had begun enjoying themselves in the venue ahead of the reception. After dinner the dance moves were flowing, songs were belted out, photobooth shots were taken and the happiness was so tangible it was hard not to leave with a smile.

It's easy and cheesy to get poetic, to say that love can keep the elements of life away. Maybe it's more about not using love to fight off these so-called 'elements of life', but instead using it to confront, tackle and overcome them instead. Who knows.

All I know is I'll never see love and being in love the same ever again, and for me that was the greatest gift from Saturday.

Congratulations Frances and Ben.

Powering through 2015 with the help of some forces

It’s always tough writing about yourself. Rationale and reason almost seem to go out the window when it comes to self-expression. At least in my writing it does. 

Instead the ink used is emotion, and I the humble pen writing another chapter in the book of life. 

Emotion has been described as a good thing. A necessary feeling needed to perfectly encapsulate one’s thoughts, one’s hopes, one’s dreams for the future. One’s identity.

But often this isn’t the case. I’ve written in the past about music and its two-sided nature. At times it can be just what you need to be inspired, motivated or even uplifted. Your saving grace.

But at times it can also pierce you. A haunting melody or a howling cacophony of notes moulded together to bring out fermented emotions often banished to cold, dark places.

Where has this train of thought arrived from? 

I’ve been doing a lot of personal reflection over the last day as I prepare for arguably the biggest year ever. Walks, runs, they’re all ways I’ve learnt to seek calm and solace amidst an often hectic and frenzied time doing shift work.

Understandably, one doesn’t like to run or walk without something to listen to. The sounds of cars become too much of a reminder of the high-paced life in Auckland. Even when contrasted against the sounds of chirping birds, it all becomes a bit too much of an oxymoron for me to soak into the deeper things in life.

I’ve often struggled with music choices. Songs that sound epic and uplifting throughout the day transform at night to be ones questioning myself, my inner decisions. This isn’t a new thing, but an old habit. I clearly need more music variety.

But then, I found it. A symphonic saviour that comes from the soundtrack to a film I’d seen recently, The Theory of Everything. 

The movie, for those who haven’t heard of it, had it all - love, sympathy, intelligence, tragedy and perseverance. It was a movie that did, however, left me feeling sorry for Stephen Hawking for the life he’s continued to lead, one spoken through a computer voice completely foreign to his own accent.

But then there was the music, and one song in particular. A two-and-a-half minute orchestral tune called Forces of Attraction. It’s one I heard in the movie and it was a tune I fell for instantly. I had to download it.

That song has been on high rotation on my iPad for the last 24-or-so hours. It seems like a weird choice, given the song stems from a movie that features the slow disintegration of Hawking and his marriage. But it’s a song that has hope in it, a hope for everyone that there really is your special one out there.

But that isn’t what it is for me. For me, Forces of Attraction looks like the formation of one harmonic entity from two beings. I don’t even know what it looks like, but it’s beautiful and inspiring.

What of this, then, this infatuation with one song? 

It’s fuel, I think. Those underlying notes of hope, of determination, perseverance – they all power me on. 

That’s not to say they’re artificial editions, goodness no, but they tug at those very elements that I think are core to who I am.

At night, all I can do is reflect. It’s a force of habit. With Forces of Attraction, I’m able to think positively of the future, to think beyond the immediate and focus on the long-term. What my goals are. What my hopes are. What will drive me in 2015.

There are so many things to learn and discover in this world and so often we reflect only on what we know instead of reflecting on the future. An oxymoron it may sound, but when you think about it, reflecting on the future and things we don’t know are healthy. These are the things that stir our minds, that drive us and our quest for knowledge.

So, undoubtedly, that’s what I will be tonight, walking through the breezy streets of Sandringham and Mt Roskill thinking not of what I know, but what I want to learn. It can be about me, it can be about a number of things. All I know it’s time to reflect.

Thankfully for me, Forces of Attraction is here to join in. Here's hoping you don't mind the ride.