7 Ryan Street

Portobello

29^th May, 2010

Dear Readers,

It is one of the first Saturday nights in a very long time that I am at home on my own. I have just finished Dancing on my table by Julie Biuso, and I felt as if I were reading my own thoughts, a similar journey with its inevitable different turnings.  It also has given me more impetus to write again, and as I sit in front of the fire with my favourite music on, my fingers have begun to tap out thoughts. What are your favourite kind of books?  I love reading books which revolve around food, whether they be cooking books, or books in which food plays a central role.

Julie Biuso talked about using “the peace of the evenings and the stillness of the night” to reflect on life, “to pass through pain, to shed guilt, and to relive pleasurable moments,” and seeing this as “a cleansing,” not “a self indulgence.”  I agree totally, and although I have felt confronted by my fears and regrets, I feel stronger through the painful process, but also affirmed by reflecting on the many special times I have spent with family and friends.  Like Julie, so many of those memories revolve around the creating of meals, and laughter shared around the big table laden with an eclectic range of food, and good wine. Where are most of your memories formed? 

I would like to say that I am sitting in front of a roaring fire, but the truth is that after the torrential rain we have had this week, all my firewood is sodden, and although I made a valiant attempt at bringing the wood to life, only the paper sucked up the flame for a fleeting moment! Consequently, I am sitting in front of my heater, with a rug over my knees.  However, I am not complaining as I have a hot cup of tea and a delicious piece of fruitcake to savour.  I also have a God who has been looking after me, and I thanked him this morning as I sat in my car behind two other cars at Grassy Point on the Portobello Road.  I had planned to leave five minutes earlier to make sure I arrived at my yoga class in time for the ten o’clock session, but returned to the house for something I had forgotten. I realise that if I hadn’t returned to the cottage, I may have been passing the cliff face which collapsed onto the road, bringing down an enormous macrocarpa tree which I watched crash across the tarseal this morning.  Life is all about timing, and thankfully, my time was not up. I had to turn round, and travel the mist high road to town. I still managed to make my ten o’clock yoga session, and felt very blessed. 

The heat of the yoga room always give me a sense of calm, and I lay on my mat, letting the heat seep into my body and allowing my thoughts to slow down. As the sweat poured off me as I did the set poses, I felt my stiff body yield as I focused my mind on the present moment.  I try to take this focus on the immediate moment into my every day, with limited, but increasing success.

As part of my cleansing the past, I know that I have to put away thoughts of the material possessions I left behind in my former beautiful home.  My spa and new oven, two things I used daily, are no longer with me, but the smaller spa that I bought last year is finally being heated as I write to you, and the agent for the spa has offered to come out and help me add the correct chemicals.  With my big American spa, we used few chemicals, but I have been convinced that the $230 was needed for this particular spa. I told the agent that I used to hop into the spa three times a day, and he was surprised. It was a lifesaver at a time when I was under enormous stress, and the heat of the water and the massaging jets soothed not only my tight body, but also my tortured mind. My new spa is just outside the cottage, exposed to all the elements, but I don’t care. I now can’t wait to slip into the heated water, and a friend is coming tomorrow night, and I am determined to share the spa with her.  Robyn, my former Administration manager, was the last person to share a spa with me in my former home, and we drank wine as we talked till the small hours.  Have you ever had a spa? 

Monday, 31^st May

I am no sitting up in bed, toasty warm after having spent the night in front of the fire with Jan, talking about all manner of things while I massaged his feet.  Jan is such an athlete, and we all tend to ignore this important part of our body.  It was relaxing giving Jan a massage, and I love how the physical connection brings us mentally much closer.  When Jan left, I popped into the spa for the third time in twenty four hours.  Robyn did indeed come yesterday, and again we drank too much wine, talked too much, and shared a fabulous long spa under the stars.  My daughter, Nicky, and her family had been over in the afternoon, and Nicky said how much she wanted to have a spa in the open.  She nearly always refused the invitation for a spa in the conservatory of my old house as she didn’t like all the steam.  Because Nicky was struck down by a mysterious virus this time last year, which left her paralysed, she still suffers from aches and pains which are relieved through swimming, something she does as much as she can.  However, she can now also use the spa, and I am delighted that it will be of use to her.  It now has the chemicals in it, and it is ready to be enjoyed by the whole family.  I didn’t read the instruction manual, so I wasn’t sure how to work it, but the spa survived my first test run!  I had to ring the agent as the jets kept coming on during the night, but I have that all sorted now, I hope!  I couldn’t sleep last night, waking as has become a pattern, at four o’clock in the morning, and went out to check on my new stress releaser. What do you do to release stress?  Talking with friends is a wonderful way to cope with what life throws up at us, and other friends rang me yesterday and invited me over for dinner. Although I couldn’t make it for dinner, as Robyn and Jan were coming, I popped round for a glass of wine and some nice cheese.  I never take my dear friends for granted. 

I am now going to go to sleep as I want to get up and go to yoga at 6.30 tomorrow morning. This means getting up at 5.00 in the morning, just seven hours away, so I will try and get some shuteye! 

Tomorrow is the beginning of June and the beginning of winter.  It will almost be the winter solstice, and the marking of the Maori New Year, 12^th June.  I love the way all cultures celebrate their new year, but at different times of the year.  Let’s have a wonderful year!

Love, Sharron

Ps

I just looked up the internet and found this little piece on Matariki, the stars which herald the Maori New Year.

Heralding the New Year

Matariki is the Māori name for the small cluster of stars also known as the Pleiades or the Seven Sisters, in the Taurus constellation. In New Zealand it comes into view low on the north-eastern horizon, appearing in the tail of the Milky Way in the last days of May or in early June, just before dawn. This heralds the Māori New Year.

Various Māori tribes celebrated Matariki at different times. Some held festivities when Matariki was first seen in the dawn sky; others celebrated after the full moon rose or at the beginning of the next new moon.

For all tribes, the importance of Matariki has been captured in proverbs and songs, which link it with the bright star Whānui (Vega):

      Ka puta Matariki ka rere Whānui.

      Ko te tohu tēnā o te tau e!

      Matariki re-appears, Whānui starts its flight.

      Being the sign of the [new] year!

Matariki is also associated with the winter solstice. It appears when the sun, drifting north on the shortest day in winter, reaches the north-eastern end of the horizon. The sun then turns around and begins its journey south. Greek myth

According to Greek myth, the Pleiades are the seven daughters of Pleione and Atlas – Electra, Maia, Taygete, Alcyone, Celaeno, Asterope and Merope. While wandering through the woods one day, they were spied by Orion, who gave chase. To save them from Orion’s dishonorable intentions, Zeus transformed them into stars and placed them in the sky. A number of ancient temples on the Acropolis in Athens face the direction where the Pleiades rise.

Legends

Matariki literally means the ‘eyes of god’ (mata ariki) or ‘little eyes’ (mata riki). Some say that when Ranginui, the sky father, and Papatūānuku, the earth mother were separated by their offspring, the god of the winds, Tāwhirimātea, became angry, tearing out his eyes and hurling them into the heavens. Others say Matariki is the mother surrounded by her six daughters, Tupu-ā-nuku, Tupu-ā-rangi, Waitī, Waitā, Waipuna-ā-rangi and Ururangi. One account explains that Matariki and her daughters appear to assist the sun, Te Rā, whose winter journey from the north has left him weakened.

Matariki and Puanga

Some Māori tribes believed that it was the rising of the star Puanga (Rigel in Orion) which heralded the new year, not Matariki. Hence the saying: ‘Puanga kai rau' (Puanga of abundant food). This divergence was explained to the scholar Elsdon Best by a Māori elder: ‘The task of Puanga is to strive with Matariki (the Pleiades) that he may gain possession of the year.’  

Traditionally, Māori were keen observers of the night sky, determining from the stars the time and seasons, and using them to navigate the oceans. Lookouts would watch for the rise of Matariki just before dawn. For Māori, this time signified remembrance, fertility and celebration.

 Remembrance

            Haere atu rā e koro ki te paepae o Matariki, o Rehua. Haere atu rā.

            Farewell old man, go to the threshold of Matariki, of Rehua. Farewell.

In times of old, the sighting of Matariki was greeted with expressions of grief for those who had died since its last appearance. Some said the stars housed the souls of those departed. Rangihuna Pire, in his 70s, remembered how as a child he was taken by his grandparents to watch for Matariki in mid-winter at Kaūpokonui, South Taranaki:

The old people might wait up several nights before the stars rose. They would make a small hāngī. When they saw the stars, they would weep and tell Matariki the names of those who had gone since the stars set, then the oven would be uncovered so the scent of the food would rise and strengthen the stars, for they were weak and cold.

 Planting crops

            Matariki atua ka eke mai i te rangi e roa,

            E whāngainga iho ki te mata o te tau e roa e.

            Divine Matariki come forth from the far-off heaven,

            Bestow the first fruits of the year upon us.

The coming season’s crops were planted according to the portents read in the Matariki star cluster. If the stars were clear and bright, it was a sign that a favourable and productive season lay ahead, and planting would begin in September. If the stars appeared hazy and closely bunched together, a cold winter was in store and planting was put off until October.

Matariki has given rise to a number of sayings. ‘Matariki kāinga kore’ (homeless Matariki) refers to the star cluster’s constant travel – disappearing from the sky only once a year, when it pauses to rest in May when the moon wanes. The association of Matariki with crops has given rise to the saying: ‘Matariki ahunga nui’ (Matariki provider of plentiful food). Because it appears in the season when game had been caught and preserved, there is the saying: ‘Ka kitea a Matariki, kua maoka te hinu’ (When Matariki is seen, then game is preserved).

Harvest

            Ngā kai a Matariki, nāna i ao ake ki runga.

            The foods of Matariki, by her scooped up.

            Matariki happened at the end of harvesting, when food stores were plentiful. The variety of food which had been gathered and preserved ensured an abundant supply for feasting – Matariki was an important time for festivity. Women rejoiced, sang and danced to celebrate the change of season and new beginnings. Often kites (pākau) were flown – they were thought to get close to the stars.