The invisible strand: What does connection mean to me?

Ngahaka has a great smile - the kind that lights up a room without taking away the shine from yours. We both work for the Council, but don’t really cross paths professionally. Thinking about it, I had mostly spoken to her at waiata (singing) on Friday mornings. We were on a three-day noho marae together last week, and I felt like it was the first time I really ‘saw’ her.

Over the years, I’ve become comfortable having deep life conversations with total strangers in my search for connection. Beats talking about the weather anyway. But I also know that level of vulnerability doesn’t come easy. To open up like that requires a lot of trust - not just in the other person, but more importantly, in yourself. Once those words leave your mouth, you can’t take it back. You have to be strong enough to take what the other person offers in return. It can also take a lot of energy without giving back any in return.

The most powerful word in my vocabulary has only two letters with one syllable

What’s the most powerful word in your vocabulary? Mine only has two letters, yet it packs a punch greater than Goku’s kamehameha. One syllable that’s more definitive than a full stop. Some even say it’s bold enough to be both the answer and reason. Have you cracked it yet? No? Well, actually that’s it. The word is ‘no’.

Optimists are naturally ‘yes’ people, and I’m an eternal optimist! To an optimist, saying yes is the same anticipation a kid feels with a Kinder surprise in their hand. When you talk about ideas with me, I see it as an exciting opportunity to create possibilities. Think of it like a metaphorical door that I just can’t wait to walk through.

It’s a great tool to move you if you feel stuck in life. Don’t think, just say yes. It moves you from a space of fearing what hasn't happened yet to become the change you want to see. I said yes to facing my fear of public speaking and it brought spoken word into my life. I said yes to trusting myself, so I started solo hiking. I said yes to dating men that weren’t ‘my usual type’ and they showed me what I actually needed in a relationship to be happy. Those lessons even helped me to write my first book. Thanks guys! Each door I opened changed my trajectory like a pinball machine cracking the highest score.

Why I have struggled to write happy poetry

When people ask me about my poetry, I say that I’m a ‘sometimes poet’. Yes, I write poetry, even perform them from time to time, yet I’ve never committed to it enough to improve my craft. The words sort of just fell out. I feel like some of my best writing came from a woman who was angry, self-loathing and lacked direction, even if I was always on the move. Think of the impact Alanis Morissette’s ‘Jagged Little Pill’ album had on the 90s woman. She gave you an anthem for unspoken bitterness and a voice for the scorned lover.

These days, I’m more grounded and have learned to focus my energy better. My relentless questioning of what is possible has taken me up incredible mountains, swimming in glacial lakes, and listening to life stories of fascinating strangers. Even better, I can say that I’m finally happy where I’ve landed in life. When I got back into poetry slam last year (my first in three years), I wanted to write poetry that reflected the changed woman who came back from Perú. I felt like a butterfly tentatively waking up from its cocoon. It was interesting to discover that even though I felt I had let go of so much already, it was much harder to break the muscle memory of my writing.

For five years I was a woman on a journey - walking away her sadness after the traumatic end of a relationship. Writing and sharing those adventures was cathartic because it gave me something tangible to focus on. Writing made me experience nature at a much greater depth - words flowed because I was more present, more open to be affected by what I was experiencing at that moment.

How I found peace in a global pandemic

When crossing rivers, the first thought should always be, “Do I need to get my boots wet? Can I see a safer and easier way to cross?” I feel like the last two years have been one bloody long river crossing. As each of us do our best to navigate through these weird times, one thing’s for sure, we’re so far down the river that whatever awaits us on the other side, there’s no going back. The ‘new normal’ just becomes, well, normal.

There were plenty of times that the river looked calm and getting my boots wet didn’t seem so bad. I remember the days when wearing masks was a fashion accessory more than a necessity. Videos of Six60’s massive summer concerts in New Zealand beamed across the world and jaws dropped. Apart from a couple of lockdowns, my life pretty much went on as usual until the last six months.

As the Omicron community cases kept climbing at the start of the year, we could see the waters start to get murkier by the day. Even though we had watched the rest of the world experience our current reality, there was so much we as a country had to figure out on our own too. The river wasn’t only just rising, it was in flood.

Same, same but different - what's your love language?

When I told my workmates that I was going to spend a week in the South Island, one of them asked cheekily if I had anything romantic planned for Valentine’s Day. I had a giggle. I’m the only single one in our team and I guess it’s been awhile since I talked about my dating life. “Not really, probably just coffee with Katri.” We all laughed. Katri and I used to work together and both live in Whakatāne. We were doing the Routeburn Great Walk together.

How do I describe our friendship? Katri’s curious, with a refreshingly straightforward honesty. She will hit me with life questions out of the blue - out on the street, scrambling down Conical Hill or mud deep in the bush. If she’s thinking about it, you bet she will ask the question. Normally, if anyone else asked me personal questions in such open settings, I would tip toe around my answer. I guess our friendship has taught me to be more honest with myself, to have the courage to say how I really feel, which has made me a more honest communicator too.

Be the river, not the rock

My friend Tamizan is what 12-year-old me wanted to be growing up: Smart, independent, financially stable and a homeowner. She’s only in her mid-thirties and already kicking ass at adulting.

Like me, she's a cultural milkshake too - a child of Indian parents who immigrated to Canada. Tamizan was born into Western society with the traditional expectations of Asian culture. We’ve had plenty of discussions about our upbringings and how it has shaped us as women - our sometimes strained relationship with our parents as we seek out independence. A lot of that has spilled over into our dating lives.

In Frederick Travis’ book, ‘Your Brain is a River, Not a Rock,’ our brains are said to be an interface between us and the world, and will change based on our experiences throughout our lives. These shape our perspective of ourselves and the world around us.

Last year, Tamizan got sick. She was bed ridden, lethargic and in pain. The kind of sickness that even after months of tests, the doctors couldn't figure out why her body has suddenly begun to attack her body from the inside out.