JP
Their worldview, shaped by the land and sea. It feels quietly grounding, like a soft cleansing of the heart.
Take the shoreline.
Each of us carries mauri, a life force that shifts like the tide.
In te ao Māori, the movement of the sea reflects our kare-a-roto, - not just emotions, but dreams (moemoeā), intuition, and inner stirrings. The ocean doesn’t resist the pull. She follows her rhythm, offering space to whakawātea, - to clear, to rest.
Standing at the water’s edge, I’ve come to feel that rhythm.
A quiet reminder that it’s okay to be as I am.
To move with whatever I’m carrying.
And to find, in that rhythm, a little space to breathe again.
That was the first thing my son said when he came home from a sleepover at a friend’s house. He told me they had waffles for breakfast.
I’d always thought of those things as just another gadget that would end up collecting dust. I had no intention of buying one. But then I happened to come across a good secondhand one, and I couldn’t resist bringing it home.
The batter is runnier than for pancakes. Just pour it in, press, and in less than two minutes, the waffles are ready.
This is good. Easier than making pancakes in a frying pan.
My kids carefully place their knives along the waffle’s cut lines. It’s perfect practice for using a knife and fork.
The little heart-shaped piece they cut out seemed to hold so much. The ease of the waffle maker. The joy of that first bite. Small signs of growing up. And the little happiness of a slow Sunday morning.
But somewhere along the way, each day started to feel like a stack of tasks. “Living” began to seem more like something to get through than something to truly feel.
Before I knew it, years had slipped by, swept along by the noise and rush of everything around me.
Lately, I’ve found myself wanting to cherish the small, fleeting moments. The quiet shifts in season. The unexpected encounters. The subtle feelings or thoughts that rise up and might otherwise slip away unnoticed.
I hope to gather those moments in words and images, and leave a little trace of them behind.
I don’t know how often I’ll be able to keep it up. But for now, I’m starting here for myself, more than anything.