In this issue

1. My Print of the Week

2. Frontispiece

3. Following the Whales-an Odyssey

4. Fevered Mind Links (to make your Sunday morning coffee go cold)

5. Endpapers

My Print of the Week

― Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods

Somewhere beyond the mountains of Fiordland, where the land abruptly tips over into the Tasman Sea, is a small valley known as Coal River. It's a place so remote that you have no way of ever walking there, and even a boat trip would be quite an experience. It's a place only known to the local, old-school helicopter pilots, who treat it with great love and affection.

It is a long flight west across the mountains and then a clockwise swirl downwards, to land on dark black sands. And the sandflies are particularly noticeable. They weren't holding back when we arrived, even in the middle of winter, and I made this image.

And yet, and yet…

Pingao is a native grass/sedge much prized by Maaori weavers (when they can get it because it's becoming increasingly endangered). And here we were, in a place where the pingao was abundant. There were no humans or animals to disturb this beautiful little plant. So, of course, I was going to photograph it.

The doomblack clouds and rain pulled back as I was framing and focusing, and a small rainbow appeared. Somehow it was a good omen as if the atua (gods) approved of what I was doing.

I've only ever made two A1 prints of this image, both of which hang in private collections. And I won't be making any more in this size. There is a promise I must honour.

However, it is time to offer a few more in a smaller size.

If this scene resonates with you, please consider securing your own copy.

Five only prints. A2. Printed, signed and shipped to anywhere in Aotearoa.

Normally $600, $400 for this week only.

Oh, and there is a secret bonus for the next six people who order. Ring, message or email me ([email protected])

Frontispiece

-Rumi

Shifts in society

Atamaarie e te whaanau:

When COVID first erupted onto the scene in early 2020, I suspect that very few of us thought it would have such a profound effect upon humanity and our shared, interwoven journey.

It seems to me that wherever I look, the foundations of our society are being upended, rather like one of those boxes you find in a back corner of the garage and shake to see what's inside. What tumbles out may not be pleasant or even indeed welcome, but in some way, it is necessary to bring it to light. To my mind, there is a lot of stuff coming to the surface that needs to be brought out into the light for an essential if painful sanitisation.

Who would have thought that a tiny, invisible organism could have such a profound effect on our lives?

I tend to think of this as the Wasp Principle. A wasp is tiny compared to a human being, yet its effect when it comes near us is profound. How many of you are quite happy to allow a wasp to settle onto your skin and yet remain calm and patient?

No, I thought so.

History indicates that after the Black Death ravaged Europe in the 1300s, society underwent a massive shift in terms of its structure.

It would appear that the same thing is happening again. If you read many news articles, you will have read about The Great Resignation. You might think it is an American phenomenon, but it is happening worldwide. With time in lockdown to reflect, I guess many people have decided that it is time for a change. Perhaps people have looked at what is important to them, and realising their former lifestyle and job wasn't it, have decided to try doing new things.

I've been surprised by how many of my friends are tearing up the old script and trying something new. Just recently, a new friend, a very gifted teacher of design and web, has decided to give away 'working for the man' and 'go out' on her own.

I know of several others who have approached their employer and put the hard word on them for a significant pay increase. When refused, they have simply shrugged and handed in their resignation.

When I put it to them that that was a pretty bold move, one replied saying, "better be to be poor and happy than dead."

This brings me to me. And my online presence.

A dear friend (you know who you are) and I were talking about my online presence.

"Did you know, "she pointed out, "when I attempted to google you, I couldn't find a website for you. Google seems to think you don't have one. "

Well, as much as I hate googling myself (I always worry about what I might find), I did it. She was correct. A website should be right at the top of the search. And there wasn't one. At all.

Obviously, I've been doing things wrong for quite some time. But, as far as Google is concerned, my website is invisible. Because it doesn't believe I have one.

However, it was good to hear this because right now, I am trying to synthesise all the different parts of me (writer, artist, photographer, teacher, matakite) into some sort of whole. So I've been having conversations around branding and web presence, which means social media presence.

And what spurred that was a virus of a different kind, the cyber kind. My email simply vanished, and I've been spending a lot of time talking to my support person at Microsoft in the Philippines (even though my phone tells me she is calling from Washington state-how does that work?). She is bright breezy, and apparently, her name is (are you ready for this? ) Kate Winslet. Sure.

Anyway, we are there after a lot of faffing around with MX records and Cname instructions.

So last Monday, I registered a new domain name because, in the words of my web guru, the only way I can bring all those parts of me together is to use my name. A number of this realising that we are the brand.

At the moment, I don't have a website. That is still to be built. However, I finally have an email that works and works independently of any hosting service I may use. It is this:

[email protected]

Following the Whales-an Odyssey

Whales have come and gone through the last decade or two of my life like a translucent, recurrent thread.

Perhaps 20 years ago, I was teaching a continuing education class on Lightroom at Canterbury University. On the first morning, one of my students, a middle-aged woman, approached me during our coffee break.

"There is a story I need to share with you," she began.

She and her husband had been the lighthouse keepers at Puysegur Point on the southwest corner of Fiordland. She told me how she had gone out one afternoon to see what was happening in the ocean. As she looked out to sea, a sperm whale breached just offshore. That in itself was remarkable, but it was what happened next that made the story something I never forgot.

The sperm whale breached a second time. And then it went back beneath the surface of the ocean.

She told me how it breached a third time, rising slowly into the air. Wrapped around its body was a giant squid. Finally, it sank back into the water and never reappeared. I could imagine what she had told me and could only imagine what I might have captured had I been there with my camera.

However, some things are meant to be seen but not photographed.

Somebody important once said:

Sometime after that, I had travelled north to photograph a wedding in the Marlborough Sounds. On Saturday night, after all the festivities, I went to bed, but it was such a hot, muggy night that I had difficulty sleeping. Somewhere around midnight, I walked out onto the balcony of my unit to be with the night air and get the day out of my system. It was silent with only the gentle ripple of the water in the bay.

Then I heard a sound, far-off to the southwest. At first, I couldn't identify it, but then I realised what I was hearing. It was whales calling, and somehow I knew they were calling to me from Fiordland. I shook my head in disbelief, thinking I was hearing things, yet the song continued.

Hearing whale songs has occurred from time to time across the years. I heard them one dawn standing on Motupohue (Bluff Hill) and another time at Oraka (Colac Bay).

One day, while holidaying on Aitutaki, I got into conversation with one of the locals, who told me that the whales pass the island on their way to and from the breeding grounds each year. Suddenly I could see the route they travelled from near the Antarctic to high in the Pacific Ocean.

And a theory formed.

Perhaps the ancient Polynesian navigators knew the route the whales followed. Given that they were master mariners who navigated by the stars, and from a deep knowledge of the ocean currents and the patterns of birds and whales, perhaps that is how the Great Migration of the 1300s made its way south to Aotearoa. Maybe they were following the songlines of the whales.

It is said that when Kupe came down to Aotearoa in 875, he was accompanied by two taniwha, Arai-te-Uru and Niwa, who guided him to the Hokianga. Another story says that they took the form of whales. When he arrived offshore, he sent the two into the harbour to check that it was safe to enter, which they did.

One day I would like to honour this circular whale songline journey by flying out to Puysegur Point, to land on the site where the lighthouse used to be, and mihi (honour) the tohoraa (whales) with karakia (prayers), moteatea (traditional chant), and waiata (songs).

And honour a beautiful journey that began one day at Canterbury University.

Fevered Mind Links (to make your Sunday morning coffee go cold)

What We Can Learn From the Exquisite History and Ornate Aesthetic of Gothic Architecture — mymodernmet.com

Aesthetically ornate and conceptually transcendent, the Gothic style has become one of world's most distinctive architectural movements. Though it originated in the Middle Ages, the one-of-a-kind genre continues to captivate today, as evident in some of Europe's most beautiful buildings.

Grow Your Own Herbal Medicine Garden — theartofhealing.com.au

For those who are in the thick of summer, now is a fantastic time to plant an outdoor medicinal garden. Creating a healing garden is a straightforward and rewarding pursuit, and is a great way to take charge of your day-to-day health and wellbeing. And best of all, it’s fun.

Christopher Marlowe credited as one of Shakespeare's co-writers

The long-held suggestion that Christopher Marlowe was William Shakespeare is now widely dismissed, along with other authorship theories. But Marlowe is enjoying the next best thing – taking centre stage alongside his great Elizabethan rival with a credit as co-writer of the three Henry VI plays.

Timeline of Paper and Papermaking

3000 BC – Egyptians mastered the art of creating papyrus paper. 2450 BC – Oldest surviving record of animal skins being processed into parchment. 2200 BC – Oldest surviving record of Egyptian papyrus.

Amateur sleuths help solve 160-year mystery by decoding Charles Dickens letter — arstechnica.com

Last October, a collaboration called The Dickens Code project made a public appeal to amateur puzzle fans and codebreakers for assistance in decoding a letter written by Victorian novelist Charles Dickens in a tortuously idiosyncratic style of shorthand.

Water is a stream of geopolitical force through history — aeon.co

A great river encircles the world. It rises in the heartland of the United States and carries more water than the Mississippi and Yangtze rivers combined. One branch, its oldest, streams over the Atlantic, heading for Europe and the Middle East. Another crosses the Pacific, flowing towards China.

Get an “Instant” History of How Polaroid Revolutionized Photography — mymodernmet.com

In the digital age, we’re used to pointing and shooting photos with our smartphones and getting instant results. However, these photos are easily lost among the thousands of other images in our phones’ camera rolls.

Tchaikovsky on Depression and Finding Beauty Amid the Wreckage of the Soul — www.brainpickings.org

“An artist needs a certain amount of turmoil and confusion,” Joni Mitchell once told an interviewer. Indeed, the history of the arts is the history of the complex relationship between creativity and mental illness.

Flour Trip — www.eater.com

Where were you during the great bread baking boom of 2020? Me, I was cleaning out a trash can full of dog food to make room for 50 pounds of flour.

End Papers

With all the difficult things happening in the world, it seems to me that we are constantly being bombarded by opinions. However, recently I heard a rather wonderful (if off-colour) aphorism:

Every day, every single day, we are being constantly bombarded with opinions masquerading as facts and facts masquerading as opinions. But, where is the truth in any of it? Is there any truth? And, if so, what is it?

As some of you know, my degree is in languages and literature. In my time at university, I must have studied most of the prominent thought leaders in Europe; Descartes, Montesquieu, Thomas Aquinas, and Kafka. And being the person I am, I would find the flaws in their argument/theories/philosophies and depart somewhat disappointed. Were there any absolute truths, any bedrock upon which I could build my house?

Sadly, none.

It's happening now. The virus is lethal. The virus is not lethal. It is no more than a mild cold. But, everybody seems to have the answer. The MSM peddle the latest theory, mostly opinion masquerading as fact. And, if you're selective, you will hear the answer you want to hear.

So, where is the truth in all of this?

I don't know. If you think Facebook is bad, try Twitter. The toxicity and hate speech from both sides of any argument are horrendous. How can we be so divided and unkind to each other?

It bemuses me.

This morning (Saturday), feeling significantly over social media (and human beings, to be honest), I got up early as I do.

A southerly storm had come through in the night. Bit by bit, the summer is fading into autumn, and there is a brittle chill in the air.

I walked out onto my patio and stood under the shelter of the somewhat faded polycarbonate sheeting that covers it.

I listened to the rain splattering down, looking for the patterns made by the raindrops and the gaps that lay between them. I listened to the soft brush of the wind, painting staccato patterns on my porch, and because there are no visual stimuli, my ears did all the heavy lifting.

And that was enough.

Funnily enough, because of my gratitude for raindrops and the sheer joy of being able to stand barefoot on wet grass, I have found a small kawa (ritual) that is a tiny way of connection and giving back.

Whenever I buy a new loaf of bread, I first think of all the people involved in bringing it to me and mentally thank them for their hard work. I take the first crust, tear it into shreds and cast it out onto the lawn for the birds. The sparrows, blackbirds and thrushes seem to appreciate it.

I do believe we create our own rituals.

Perhaps each of us IS a ritual.

Perhaps our rituals define and outline us.

What are yours?

Whether we are being triggered by the threat of Omicron, the protests at Parliament, the politicians, or events in Ukraine, any of the myriad other things that can make us fearful and confused, Earth abides.

Every morning, the sun comes up, and every evening it goes down. And it will continue to do so with or without us. The Great Cycle of nature continues relentlessly and without pause. I watch the bumblebees doing what bumblebees do, wrapping themselves over the heads of red clover; I watch the birds doing what birds do, and I watch my vegetables growing (despite me).

Te Taio. The Natural World.

Ah. The Natural World.

There is a place where we can find the truth, where the truth resides.

And it is enough.

As always, I wish you all love and joy and peace (whatever that means to you and wherever you find it).

Ngaamihi nunui ki a koutou.

Much love to you all.