awhi 1. (verb) to embrace, cherish, sit on eggs, brood.

6 Aug

Filling dome's structural support pillars with concrete.  Morning spent driving to gravel pile, filling ute bed with gravel & unloading at dome site.  Big lunch spread with Javi & Mireia.  It's just been the 4 of us lately.  Jose & Sean in Auckland.  Deakin & Joe tramping in the mountains.  Jo & Bryan only seen when instructing us on how to do something.  It's wonderful, actually.  Getting to know Javi & Mireia on a closer level.  Making jokes, laughing so hard Jamie cries and I nearly pee myself (and maybe did a little).  Having intimate discussions about life and happiness and the ways of the world and our views and why.  Speaking primarily in spanish, which makes my brain feel so lubricated.

The afternoon is spend with Mireia on the concrete mixer, constantly working on another batch.  Jamie and I form a line exchanging wheelbarrows of concrete and passing up tin cans full of the sloppy grey stew to Javi as he pours the mixture down the slot, can by can.  It sounds like runny diarrhea in a long drop toilet.  It's hilarious and we learn to say horribly comic and vulgar phrases in spanish as a result.  It takes 6 solid hours of work.  We are exhausted, covered in concrete in various stages of drying, sweaty and satisfied.  I feel my best when I've worked my hardest.  

As soon as the last rays of the sun disappear over the hills we make a dash for the hot pools down the road.  A quick soak before dinner sucks out every potential aching muscle juice and I leave the place a new woman.  Warm and clean and blissed out.  We return to Awhi to a dinner spread from the heavens.  Lisa has prepared a fish pie, a bacon and cheese pie, a tomato soup, salad greens, carrot beetroot apple salad, and for desert, a chocolate cookie crumble.  Nothing ever tasted so good and you can believe I go for thirds.

8 Aug

Lisa's Marae

Lisa takes us to the Marae of her whanau (family).  It's at the base of Tongariro tucked up a dirt road.  We pass houses on the way, some appear kempt and others a bit dilapidated with a dog chained up out front.  "That's my auntie's house there.  And that's my cuz's.  This land over here belongs to my dad and his brother."  She does this with nearly every home or parcel of land we pass.  She is deep within her Iwi (tribe) and this land is rich in Maori history and culture.

Two years ago Lisa planted a food forest on a piece of her whanau's land behind the Marae.  She hasn't visited it since.  Until she brings Jamie and I there for a look into her secret garden.  And that's exactly what it feels like.  We're packing hack saws and giant vine cutters to battle through the spiny gorse and ruthless blackberry bushes.  They tear at out skin and clothes, but Lisa knows the way and eventually we emerge in a clearing.  The tall brush surrounds the area like a stone wall and there are fruit trees of every variety dotted across this picturesque hillside.  Apple, peach, pear, plum, fijoa, current.  One of Lisa's aunties joins us and adds to the sacred feeling of the place.  I can't describe it, but her presence is unmistakable.  And Lisa's energy is fresh and invigorating and motivating.  When she speaks about this place her cheeks glow warmly and her eyes juice up and twinkle a bit.  This is a special place.  It brings out conversations between Jamie and I about the basis of human nature and instincts, about permaculture and life's patterns and cycles and how we view our role in the whole crazy beautiful thing.  To say those things out loud is to fully realize and embody them and our words of hope and understanding and exploration may nourish the trees who will bloom and grow and nourish this community.

Permaculture.  It's a fancy name for an instinct going extinct.  To live connected to the land, a part of the systems and patterns.  As much in sync with life and its synchronicities as the fungi that grow on the roots of trees.  To see it playing out around me, to make the connections between what I've always noticed and what I'm discovering, it's a way of learning through observation and action, and I feel my muscle memory flexing.  The second nature of how things are and can be, simple and pure and from the roots of existence, it's not so difficult to find when you're ready to find it.

We have lunch with another of Lisa's aunties.  They explain the term auntie refers to an elder you regard highly, biological relation is not necessary.  They speak in a lyrical mix of English and Maori, discussing family and stories and traditions.  My contribution to this situation is just to listen and take it all in.  These strong women leading by example in their community.  Making differences by living life with intention, gratitude and reciprocity.

The ride back to Awhi is quiet, the reggae music gently humming from the portable stereo.  We are floating and I feel a piece of this secret garden alive inside me and I've got a copy of the key, even if I never see it again.

10 Aug

Laying bricks on the dome.  One by one by hand.  Eying the shape and angle, then testing it against the catenary template.  We have reunited with Sina and Dan.  I'm so glad they're here.

Mireia and Josie dancing salsa.  Javi and Dan battling at table tennis.  Everyone having a go at the pool table.  And billiards… what the f*** is billiards?!  Lisa vibing in her beautiful world of sights and smells and colors.  The R.S.A. in Turangi would be maybe the equivalent to an Elks club in Longmont.  All the locals are members, everyone knows each other, the beer is cheeper, and twice a month there is live music from a very low key local band.  Tonight it's the vocal stylings of Mercia, a trio who covers timeless reggae and 80's hits.  Awhi Farm rolls in 9 deep to patron this establishment for a night out, and even receives a shout out at the end of the night.  We are a family.

Long, big, lasting hugs.  The kind that mean something.  A connection.  I've always wanted to give and be given these kinds of hugs.  The kind that happen when two people care so deeply for each other that embracing is the only way to express that.  Or are just so happy in that moment their bodies gravitate to harness or exchange that energy.  Just kind touching in general.  A kiss on the cheek, a squeeze for the hand.  Affection.  It's all around me here.  Even when the energy isn't bliss, it's supportive and understanding.  It's "I've got your back and you've got mine."  What a community should be.  We've only been here 3 weeks but I feel very much a part of it, even when I don't understand it.

My Awhi Family

11 Aug

Emptying compost toilets, cleaning the squash club, little need to do tasks for a rainy day.  It's basic stuff but I can't imagine anywhere else I'd rather be.  It's also freezing, so a group trek to the hot pools is a necessary move in the evening.  It's the only way to raise your core body temperature since there is no real 'inside' at Awhi to hunker down.  

We go heat seeking and have dinner at the truck stop to maintain our mineral buzz.  And there's no better way to warm every molecule of your being than to share a deep, abdominal convulsing laugh with 7 equally crazy beautiful individuals.  Role reversal.  Girls with mustaches, boys with long curly flowing locks.  Good thing we were the only ones in the joint, or passers by would certainly questions our sanity.  And perhaps they should, because I'm out of my gourd in love with these people.

                                           
                                              Pictures from Awhi:

WWOOFer huts

Dome bricks

Disco morning

Mireia gardening

Sean building green house

Josie cleaning carrots

Dan playing guitar

Hey Girl, Hey

21-23 July

We're all huddled around a roaring hot beach fire laughing and chatting and I even play the one song I've learned on my ukulele.  Me, Annemarie, Cody, Agustina, Swiss girl.  Agustina staring into the hot coals and saying in her sultry Argentinian accent, "I'm just so happy right now." 

Then the party crashers, or really makers, in a way.  Six teenage Maori kids join our band of merry travelers.  They sing and tell jokes and ask us all about us.  Everyone eventually surrenders to the night and heads in.  As we're walking away I notice the kiddos spreading out little blankets.  They're spending the night.  Everyone goes off to bed and Cody and are on the same page.  We head back to the beach fire, toting a wine bottle.  We're chatting and laughing and asking questions and it's not long before we're all like lifelong mates. This experience with the kids on the beach is one of my all time favorites ever.

Photos from Napier:

Tangoio Walkway

Te Ana Falls

Pizza night

26 July

You are and always were who you are going to be.  You just need the right people, places and situations to fully realize it, to tease it out bit by bit.  The ease in which I slipped into Karuna Falls pervades at Awhi Farm.  Why?  Because two of the originals of Karuna are the partial founders of Awhi!  It feels like we've always been here.  

And today I found new meaning to one of my favorite mantras.  If it takes shit to make bliss then I feel pretty blissfully.  And it literally took shit.  Sheep shit to be exact.  We were shoveling heaps of it to mix in with green waste, fish guts and saw dust for delicious compost.  Was on my hands and knees in it.  And I'm laughing so hard I'm crying with sheep shit particles speckled into the tears and deeply philosophizing and breathing it all in with Josie and Jamie and I'm digging up bits of myself as I exhume this divine smelling excrement and I'm not just covered in shit but also in bliss and pieces of the self I always knew was there but hardly saw.  Shit and bliss and I'll never forget those moments.

It's a new New Zealand.  Everything feels different.  Everything is different.  I am different and Jamie is and I can feel it from the second I see her.  We are us again but I am me in a whole new way and it's bliss to the max.  I'm happy for everything and everyone around me, regardless if I'm a part of it.  And I've given myself the space to see it.  To see the beauty in the floating and the focus and the cycle of it all.  To step back and breathe it in and love the way it is without needing to change it or to see the change I can make without the overwhelming sense that I've got it change it all right now.  I've got time and space and energy and this is the place we were always heading to, but couldn't find until it was right.  And now it's right.  

I'm in love in every sense of the word in ways I haven't known and it just snuck up on me and this is the place where it'll all play out I can feel it.  This place is beauty.  It's messy and it's cold and it's all outdoors.  The kitchen the dining room the lounge the toilet.  Everything but the beds.  Outside, in the sun or clouds or rain, with tarps and tin standing for the only cover.  And there's people here coming and going and learning and growing and interacting and loving and dancing and eating and playing and building.  BUILDING!  A greenhouse!  A rocket stove!  Huts and gardens!  My first day I learn how to properly propagate fruit trees in winter.  And that if you introduce natural healthy algae into the system you won't have to worry about mould because they are mutually exclusive.  

My second day I learn to make ultra rich compost by combining sheep shit and green waste and fish guts and saw dust.  And I'm being the best person I've ever met and forging these genuine relationships with these people who want nothing more than to know me as I want to know them.  In silence or song, deep talks or random laughs, I'm sky high in love.  A feeling I've never fully embodied.  Being at peace with myself enough to want nothing but good things for every other being.  Not just saying it but really being present with it.  The veils are dropping.  And just when they need to.

Jamie and I are dancing and joking and relating like never before.  And the things that are coming into my brain and out my mouth are surprising even me because I'm finally saying what I'm thinking in a way that I like and makes sense and means how I really mean it to.  And it's coming from somewhere full up of joy and mindfulness.  And being present to realize what's going on?  What is happening, eh?  The more I find the less I know but the more I feel right.  

In Napier I didn't fit in.  I never truly felt comfortable in my own skin.  Like I needed to add more to feel complete.  Some makeup or a new blouse.  But here I'm back in my ripped up dirty trousers and a baggy wool sweater and my hair is merging into one nappy dread and I feel the most secure in my body and beautiful and happy because it's not coming from the outside.  It's shining right through from the inside and it feels good.  To sit back and be a part of something without having to be right in it.  Not needing to prove myself because I already feel secure in the way that it is and the way that I am.  And to soak in the beauty of the way that everyone else is and the way we all fit together in this space.

Things growing all around us and all we need to do is be apart of the balance and the colors of lunch are green and purple and red and yellow and I'm nourished and it all grew here up from the love and care and hard work of a few good people.  And the possibility of being one of those sends me over the moon but instead of feeling overwhelmed by the want of it all now I feel a calmness knowing that it'll take its time and run its course when the time is right and all I need to do is be mindfully focused and present and full of love and empathy and it'll all come to me in the way I need it.  I don't always need to be the one talking or showing that I know about this and that or whatever.  It's best sometimes just to listen without thinking of the next thing you're going to say.  Just really listening.  And letting others talk even when you know you've got something to add, you don't always have to.  Because their story is just as important as yours and if you just sit down and shut up for a second you might actually learn something.

I lacked inspiration and purpose in Napier so I didn't write or reflect which is a huge part of my growth in NZ.  And while that was a lesson I needed in a way I didn't expect it still needed to happen to show me how good the good can really be.  

Community, family, reciprocity.  Gathered round a round table laughing and sharing and making eye contact and heart connections.  Feeling part of something greater than yourself.  Isn't that what we're all after in some sense?  Not to just feel like someone's got your back, but that you've got theirs?

26 July

We're the cool kids around the fire tonight.  The kind that are making the action happen that everyone else mills around to watch.  But there's only three of us anyway so we're making it happen with only the feral cats for an audience.  We're telling all the best stories and jamming on the guitar, mandolin and ukulele and set those down and start jamming with empty beer bottles and hands hitting knees and benches.  

28 July

A first glimpse of my own mortality.  I am not unbreakable nor am I able to regenerate like a bionic woman.  I am flawed.  I can't abuse my body and expect it to resist or heal immediately.  I have tendonitis in my right arm.  And it hurts like a severely pulled muscle when I make everyday movements I obviously take for granted.  Like stirring a pot of potatoes while cooking lunch for 12.  Or grabbing a shovel full of sawdust and shaking it into little Beaudie's hair.  Or sorting heaps of gardening books for Awhi's newly built library.  I am getting older and my body is not the indestructible machine I truly believed it to be.  It's not the most fun realization I've ever had, but an important one nonetheless because it is essential for me to take care of myself and not just in a now sense, but in a futuristic sense.  Maybe having to use my left hand for everything will help my brain to unlock all the secrets of the universe.  A challenge for my stubbornness and a wake up call to listen to my body.  

29 July

Work has been a little sporadic and not totally fulfilling the last few days.  Jo, Brain and Lisa are all buzzy about the permaculture course they're teaching this week so we've been left with small maintenance tasks like gathering firewood, weeding, mulching, cleaning toilets, organizing the library, etc.  Once Javi and Mirena get their living arrangements sorted we'll resume building the earth dome, and once the course is over we'll return to business as usual, but until then I feel like I'm revving my engine in neutral.  All gassed up and rearing to go without a driver.  I know good things are happening and I need to be patient, so in the mean time I fully take in community life.  And I find that I might just flourish in it.  Now I can let my ego go enough to not need to be a part of every conversation, I can sit back and be okay with where I am in any sense.  So when I am reciprocating in an interaction, I am doing it with heart and happiness.  The sense of calm and ease paired with the focus and motivation this place fosters perfectly suits me.  A group trek to the hot pools after dinner is a choice way to cap the day.

31 July

And this is my life.  Taking a day off of Awhi with Jamie to tramp in Tongariro National Park.  We round the corner and there they are, two giants with long white beards, looming in the vaporizing mist.  Mt. Ruapehu and Mt. Ngauruhoe (Mt. Doom), two of three (Mt. Tongariro) active volcanoes, one so active it sends clouds of smoke billowing into the fresh blue sky, dying puffs after its latest eruption last November.  We pass through tussock brush and a mosaic of alpine shrubs until we straddle the saddle betwixt the sleeping colossal masses of volcanic uplift.  I'm out of my own body, just buzzing at the indescribable scenic beauty of the place.  And so silent and serene, save for the din of Taranaki Falls and bouts of laughter springing from two happily reunited souls.  The trail winds up to Tema Lakes, two volcanic craters that once ejected thousands of tons of molten lava and now sit peacefully at the base of each white titan, cooly gathering rain water and snow melt.  We're in our element, man.

Taranaki Falls

Mount Ruapehu 

Mount Ngauruhoe 

We return to Awhi with the joyous message that we've been invited to have dinner at the house that's been rented for the permaculture students for the week.  This means… eating hot delicious food prepared by Lisa inside a house with four walls, a roof, carpet and a fire stove.  It's been over a week since my feet have touched carpet, since my bum has graced a sofa, since I've gathered around a table without the stars as my ceiling.  Which makes me think, it's amazing how adaptable humans can be.  We came to Awhi with no expectations and we got everything we were hoping for and nothing at all at the same time.  We got a community of people with immense hearts with the ability to care genuinely and quickly.  

We got an environment rich with opportunities to grow and learn.  Learn about permaculture, building, reciprocity, sustainability.  I laugh everyday here.  Everyday I feel part of something unique and beautiful.  I fall asleep every night having learned something new, about myself, about my environment, the world around me, about being human.  And what we didn't get: the everyday luxuries we take for granted and don't really need.  Flushing toilets (they're all compost here).  Warm water.  Regular showers.  Doors and walls.  And you just adjust because you have to and before you know it that's your new normal.  Good on ya.

Dinner is divine, and what's even more nourishing is the company.  The warmth of the place brought us all together and Marryblossom is jamming on the African drum and Fred is doing Tibetan throat singing and Josie and I are singing along and Deakin is doing whatever it is that Deakin does, slapping the rhythm on his legs and howling along, and there is conversation and laughter resonating throughout the house and I close my eyes and bask in its glow.  This feels like living.

1 Aug

A horse named Wheru.  He's beautiful.  Strong and young and gentle.  His shaggy red coat is well cared for and he just stands there casually as we faun over him.  Granville, his rider, asks if we'd like a turn.  Says it will be good for him since he's only ever been ridden by three other people.  We stop weeding the garden bed and nonchalantly approach horse and rider, trying not to give away how excited we are.  He's never eaten a carrot before.  Jamie pulls one from the ground and I watch from my position on his back, hugging his neck as he cautiously probes this divine orange unknown with his big horsey lips.  A few nibbles and he's happily munching away, blissing out on this new crunchy treat.  It's difficult to resume gardening after Wheru and Granville trot away.  My body and mind are in such a calm state from the grounding energy of the red stallion.  A bowl, or two, or three, of Josie's piping hot vege soup gives me just enough fire to finish out weeding and mulching.

Jamie and I collaborate on a well received salmon burger, lentil and kale dinner spread.  While things are cooking the brilliant friend of mine surprises me with a gift that shows just how well she knows me.  The Glee song book for ukulele!  We strum and sing to Bad Romance.  It's a perfect moment.  After dinner my ukulele and I sit around the campfire jamming with Joe's guitar and Jamie's mandolin.  I stop to practice conversing in Espanol con Javi y Mirea, los espanoles espectaculares.  Mirea is an engineer and Javi is an environmental architect.  They're building an earth dome at Awhi and we're learning all we can from these infinitely kind, charismatic, warmly hilarious Spaniards.  The fire and the wine and the laughter heat up my core and I fall asleep with a wooly buzz.

Photos from around Awhi:

Javi & the earth dome

earth dome

Mirea cooking delicious soup

Josie,  Jamie & Joe