on, being poor

Being poor, I used to think,

Was what those kids in Africa

were.

Seeing as I was told copious amounts of times,

that they didn’t have anything to eat.

So i should be grateful.

Grateful, I wasn’t.

Wasn’t poor.

[ note: there was no hint of … they were dispossessed people … dispossessed of their lands, their culture … their food. Yeah … we didn’t ‘know’ about that shit then! ]

But I did think, being poor,

Was about the not’s.

Not having what I wanted.

Not having my clothes bought from a nice shop, instead of the Op Shop.

Not getting what all those other kids had.

In which case, we were poor,

Well, a sort of poor.

 

But it turns out,

Poor looks a lot different when you’re standing

On your own two feet.

When you’re not a child anymore.

Poor looks very different also,

when you’re still in a house with walls.

Or when you have a choice of what to eat for breakfast.

Poor looks different when its Not a choice.

Although I ate weetbix and custard for two weeks

While my kids were away

So I could pay for the power bill:

Or I kept the kids at home, instead of sending them to school,

because I had no petrol,

And couldn’t afford the bus ticket:

Or, I smoked the butts out of the ashtray

Because smokes weren’t part of the budget:

This still is Not poor.

It’s not poverty.

It’s a choice.

A choice for something else.

 

It is also a choice that

I’m grateful I got to make.

Grateful and thankful

For every little bit of food

Every stitch of clothing

Every whole puff I have now.

You see, being 1st world poor,

Aint like being 3rd world, disenfranchised, impoverished, dispossessed poor.

Crying like a little bitch because I’ve run out of toilet paper,

Is not the same as having nowhere to shit in the first place.

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mauri of me #16 ~ tipuna

I am grateful for my hands.

I have my Nan’s hands.

And my Mama’s hands.

They’re my hands.

We have strong hands.

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mauri of me #1 ~ my Nan

I am made up of many nuances … some of which come from those that have loved Me; those whose genetics I carry. We all have these … I guess some we may not have known, but I’m pretty sure they’re there; lurking in the background.

For Me, one such lovely creation, is my maternal Nan.

I guess I didn’t fully appreciate who she really was and all her strengths, whilst she was alive. But thats typical isn’t it … never really appreciating what you have until its gone.

I do believe though, that even after these people, or things, that have ‘touched’ our lives, have gone, they leave an imprint and therefore never truly ‘leave’ us.

My Nan was raised during the Wars and lived through the Depression. Her and her sisters and brother, lived a life that was hard but also full of ‘learning’ rarely seen nowadays. They were able to ‘play’, create and work like we spend half of our lifetimes trying to get a little taste of.

Nan was especially sensitive to the ‘pain’ of others … and I believe this is one part of her that I inherited. Not that I’ve seen it as a blessing really; but I’ve come to appreciate what it was in her … how she ‘outworked’ that insight. Nan knew when to touch my hand; pat my head; tuck me in; make me macaroni cheese; ring to talk or listen; she knew when to tell a story about where she came from and what she was raised like; she knew when to laugh about the funny things she had experienced; she knew how to love Me.

From her also comes my creativity; my need for peace; my love for ‘pretties’; my love for Shoes!! My intuition and my ability to design … to see beauty when others don’t. My love for dance and music.

My Nan was all these things … and she was what would be termed now, as ‘mentally ill’ … but in her era she was labelled ‘neurotic’, over emotional and over sensitive. As a woman, I get what they did to her now. She was an outspoken woman. A woman well before her time. A entrepreneur and a business woman. And she pissed men off … especially doctors and ‘professionals’. And instead of showing her the compassion and understanding that she showed others, they fried her with ECT first and then pharmaceuticals second. In my lifetime though, she overcame both of those things and still lived hard and gritty. She was still running her own business when she was in her eighties … nearly 5 years before she died.

I miss her. Everyday. I do wish I had’ve really appreciated everything that she was. But I am eternally grateful that She Was! That subtlely, she taught Me; to trust Me; to also say what I need too … even when no-one agrees, or likes what I say – I managed to get that one down packed alright!

I love that she is My Nan. I love that I am her moko, and that she loved Me massively. That she is Me and I am Her. That she left Me stories to tell. That she left me with endurance and strength.

“I Love You Nan …. Thankyou for your songs … Thankyou for your presence xoxo”

#1 Nan & Me

#1 Nan & Me

365 reasons to smile ~ 224.

224. We had some sad news last night … and I’m struggling to find something to smile about.

I get that it’s not all smiles and cheese balls all the time. And strangely enough, as I’ve made my way through this little project, its gotten easier to smile at something, well to notice it anyway … it’s gotten easier to remember to be grateful, for what I have, but more importantly, who I am!

So while I am struggling with the ‘smile’ factor today …. I am grateful for:

  • having ptsd – why you ask?

It’s made me aware … responsive … its made me ‘take notice’ …

It’s added to my resilience … my empathy … my need to ‘overcome’ …

It’s taught me to slow down … that not everything is necessary … that the things that are truly truly important, are the things that I should spend my precious time on.

That time is limited … to do away with the bullshit and retain only the stuff that I love. Always.

time matters

the circle of

t i m e

it ticks past

it ticks present

it ticks future

and i roam through them all

all states of t i m e

looking for what matters

really

what is it that is so

different

so now

that it matters

so much more than it did

yesterday

or will matter more

tomorrow.

all i come up with is

my peeps

my family

my loves.

they are few and far between.

which kind of means

that not much really

really matters.

at all.

moving day gratitude

Tomorrow is the mokos (and their parents) moving day … to the BIG house. .. that’ll fit them all in … with the pool … and no more mildew or damp … with heating .. .and ventilation … and a lawn … a big lawn … and a bedroom each … and one of those air / heat transfer thingys, so every room is nice and warm and damp free … and fresh air … and trees … and lots of windows … and hills … and space … so much space …

Can you tell I’m excited for them!! Well I am …

And …

I am also aware … well, we all are … that this has come at a cost for them … that it has been a long long long time coming … that they have waited patiently; and while they have found what they need … there are still of masses of peeps that will lay their heads … nowhere else but the concrete tomorrow … that they will still be living out of their cars tomorrow … that they’ll still be in their damp overcrowded houses tomorrow … that they’ll still be homeless tomorrow.

I am grateful that me and the partner; my brother and nephew; my mama; my daughters and my beautiful mokos have homes to live in; food to eat; water to drink and a place to lay our heads.

xxooxx

Always grateful.

just a thought

when we’re taught

‘please’

and

‘thankyou’

,

what is that for

really

who is that for

really

.

am i supposed

to be begging

for something

and then grateful

when i get it

?

thats

fucked

up

.

365 reasons to smile ~ 185.

185. I woke up this morning and was sitting outside in this freezing cold weather … as I do … and I had another one of those ‘moments’…

Where I feel grateful and appreciative of where I am … who I am … right now.

Even though shits been a little rough over the last little while … I am still OK. I love our whare (house), and where I live … I love hearing the waves crash everyday all day … I love the fresh salt air … I love being able to walk round the corner and see tangaroa (the ocean) at his finest …

I think I feel content.

So this moment, at this time … who I am … makes me smile 🙂

family, is all there is really

Well, its been an awesome weekend with the mokos and daughters and partners of and the partner and the neph and my mama.

They all came…to help us say goodbye to the house…to help the mokos say goodbye to the house…to see where we would be going…

And we laughed and ate and slept and sang and ate some more…drank plenty of delicious coffee and ate some more.

It was beautiful…

And I remembered…

That this is what home is about…the people that your surrounded with…the love that comes form those people…and the love that you give back to them.

In the next house…those same people…my family…will still come…with all their laughter and tears and screaming and eating…they’ll continue to take up space on my couch and throw all their washing in my washing basket…even though they don’t live here. They’ll still come and create dishes and argue and sing and eat all the food…they’ll share memories with me…I’ll share memories with them.

We’ll love and laugh and eat…wherever we are 🙂

I love them…all of them

xxoo

all in a days learning…

After all the stress that has surrounded losing this house and trying to find another…plus all the other shit that’s been going on…I decided not to go and view the house scheduled for today.

I’m over it.

But it meant the partner was left to do the ‘scope’, ‘check out’, ‘ask pertinent questions’, ‘get a feel for the place’, ‘check the ceilings’ etc. Usually I wouldn’t leave this type of thing up to the partner…his scope usually involves…how big is the garage or shed…and that’s it. But off he went…looking about as defeated as I felt.

He returned about 15 minutes later. Not good I thought.

He didn’t seem all chipper and positive…he still looked tired…and slightly defeated. But he gave me a run down on the ‘cons’, and there were plenty.

The water catchment is ‘yah’ big…about the size of a bath.

Its dark.

It’s damp.

It’s dirty.

There’s no windows in one room.

It smells.

There’s mould.

It’s a shitty yellow colour.

Oh…the ‘pros’ – it has a garage.

And I pretty much said what he was thinking…’it’ll do…I don’t really give a fuck at this stage of the game’. So we are in agreement…finally.

Anyways…later on today, I got to thinking…

When we first decided to move out here…well actually, I desperately wanted to be by the beach and I fought with the partner for years…and as I got worse…he finally ‘gave in’, and we started looking for a house out these ways…In a nutshell.

So, when we started looking, all I wanted was to hear the sea. I didn’t really care about anything else. And as we continued looking around we figured out that beach properties, rentals in particular, are way shittier than we expected, especially for what we could afford. So our expectations…well actually…the partners expectations, dropped slightly. And when we found this place, it ticked all his boxes…garage, back yard, ‘fluffing around’ space (which is apparently different from a man cave…it’s more spacious…oh ok)…and it didn’t LOOK like a complete dive.

It ticked my boxes too. I could hear the sea. And…it had white walls, open space, log fire, fruit trees…but they weren’t all the things on my list. Just the first thing…too hear the sea.

So somewhere along the line we got particularly fussy and spoilt and comfortable and spoilt. Now that’s not all bad I think…it’s been healing…for both of us.

But up until today, I had forgotten that I still have what was on my original list…even if we get this next shit hole house…

I will be able to hear the sea.

And for the partner…he has a garage 🙂

And the rest of it…who cares! Compared to a tent on the back lawn of his auntys…the potential new shit hole, looks like a palace right now. And the thing with me and my learned partner…we’re resourceful 🙂