Feb 18, 2023·edited Feb 18, 2023Liked by Melissa Elvira Billington
ArohaNui dear M,
I have just recieved the news of your brother Sam's death, there has been no power and sparse internet here as we got hit hard by the cyclone. I began to write to you about the last few days and this came out. In my closeness to you as friend lover and friend, we have lived much. Sharing with you how we were nearly a casualty of the cyclone seemed relevant to what you will be feeling over the death of Sam.
Today the sun is back in the sky, haven't seen it for a while.
Winter came in the middle of summer, so I made a fire to keep warm.
Now summer has comeback and I have no idea why.
Looking out over a cyclone charged landscape, that brought our Awa to her knees we watched helplessly, Freddie, Boo, Lucille and I.
The authorities wanted to take us away, evacuating into a dark sky. But the sky could not help us that day, leaving us to fate, casualty or survivor.
Winter came in the middle of summer, scouring the living from the land, we stayed to make one last stand. Kia Kaha Kia Kaha all the Whenua called out together stay strong. The Taniwha is with her Awa, together we faced a darkness that wanted us gone.
I don't know why.
I'm surrounded with death and devastation, it's taking all my will to just look at the casualty of this war, my legs are stuck in knee deep mud unable to move I'm lost in grief.
I'm don't know how long I stayed in the mud.
But summer is back today and here we are standing sided by side the Taniwha, Awa, Whenua and I There is no victory parade or hero just survival.
I am so, so pleased to hear the Taniwha guarded all you dear critters. Did you bring Lucille into the house or keep her company in the stable? And Freddie is such a trooper. So true, there is no mental sense to be made of things. Only the resilience to live, love, wag tails again, and howl along with the songs our hearts can't help but sing. As my elder wisely admonished me in a teaching lodge when I struggled to join her in singing the Strong Women's song because of all the murdered and missing indigenous women (#mmiw), "Don't ever let your grief stop you from singing the songs that need to be sung."
Here's a reminder from Leaping Lila at your dear Pahaoa Awa of how to bark our blessings into being:
Thank you Mox, watching this I had a cry, beautiful to see and be reminded of the energy and aroha between the three of you barking, drumming, blessings into the light.
Feb 17, 2023·edited Feb 17, 2023Liked by Melissa Elvira Billington
This is most stingingly potent love story I have ever read. There is so much richness and pain here, it must be revisited time and time again. What an equally catastrophic and ethereal contemplation: what a just tribute to our Sam.
If this were a movie it would be far more than a beautifully sad tear-jerker - it would be a lives-changer.
April, you're a lives-changer. I'm enormously grateful to you and all in Sam's life who loved him. Thank you for being family for him. And for all you do, and are.
ArohaNui dear M,
I have just recieved the news of your brother Sam's death, there has been no power and sparse internet here as we got hit hard by the cyclone. I began to write to you about the last few days and this came out. In my closeness to you as friend lover and friend, we have lived much. Sharing with you how we were nearly a casualty of the cyclone seemed relevant to what you will be feeling over the death of Sam.
Today the sun is back in the sky, haven't seen it for a while.
Winter came in the middle of summer, so I made a fire to keep warm.
Now summer has comeback and I have no idea why.
Looking out over a cyclone charged landscape, that brought our Awa to her knees we watched helplessly, Freddie, Boo, Lucille and I.
The authorities wanted to take us away, evacuating into a dark sky. But the sky could not help us that day, leaving us to fate, casualty or survivor.
Winter came in the middle of summer, scouring the living from the land, we stayed to make one last stand. Kia Kaha Kia Kaha all the Whenua called out together stay strong. The Taniwha is with her Awa, together we faced a darkness that wanted us gone.
I don't know why.
I'm surrounded with death and devastation, it's taking all my will to just look at the casualty of this war, my legs are stuck in knee deep mud unable to move I'm lost in grief.
I'm don't know how long I stayed in the mud.
But summer is back today and here we are standing sided by side the Taniwha, Awa, Whenua and I There is no victory parade or hero just survival.
Ah, dear Grunta River Dog!
I am so, so pleased to hear the Taniwha guarded all you dear critters. Did you bring Lucille into the house or keep her company in the stable? And Freddie is such a trooper. So true, there is no mental sense to be made of things. Only the resilience to live, love, wag tails again, and howl along with the songs our hearts can't help but sing. As my elder wisely admonished me in a teaching lodge when I struggled to join her in singing the Strong Women's song because of all the murdered and missing indigenous women (#mmiw), "Don't ever let your grief stop you from singing the songs that need to be sung."
Here's a reminder from Leaping Lila at your dear Pahaoa Awa of how to bark our blessings into being:
https://youtu.be/DOSGumr6vbE
Kia kaha e hoa, tahu, whanau.
Aroha, Mox
Thank you Mox, watching this I had a cry, beautiful to see and be reminded of the energy and aroha between the three of you barking, drumming, blessings into the light.
This is most stingingly potent love story I have ever read. There is so much richness and pain here, it must be revisited time and time again. What an equally catastrophic and ethereal contemplation: what a just tribute to our Sam.
If this were a movie it would be far more than a beautifully sad tear-jerker - it would be a lives-changer.
April, you're a lives-changer. I'm enormously grateful to you and all in Sam's life who loved him. Thank you for being family for him. And for all you do, and are.