The Roadtrip – 14th September

14th September.

Yesterday Molly and Will had lunch with friends at Whangarei. Together they visited the museum and art gallery. At the gallery there was a vintage portrait photo just inside the door which stopped Molly in her tracks – it looked to her like a younger version of the vision she had seen of the old women in the backseat of their car! She held the same aura of importance.

When they returned to their holiday bach in the late afternoon, Molly was eager to write to Grace. She decided to prepare dinner before writing, not knowing how long she would be in meditation for. Will had been so thoughtful taking care of dinner these past few days whilst she wrote to Grace, she wanted to return the favour. Fascinated by what she was experiencing, he was always keen to hear of these visits, of what had happened during her meditations. Will snuck up behind her, pressed his body into hers, his arms slipped in around her waist, pulling her body close to his and kissing the back of her neck he whispered in her ear, “Mmmmm, nothing like a woman in the kitchen.” Molly feign a scowl, put down the knife, turned around and kissed him, never needing an excuse, her arms pulled him in closer, her hands searching for the warmth of his skin beneath his jersey. Dinner and writing would have to wait….

It was after 9pm when Molly sat at the table with her journal, looking out the window of the bach towards the beach in the distance. Will was sitting outside taking photo’s of the moon rise. The night sky was filled with so many stars and a huge full moon the colour of buttermilk was about to break free above the trees, shoreline which was clearly visible in the magical silvery light. She heard a Morpork (Native New Zealand Owl) calling, the sound somewhat hauntingly beautiful, and began to write…

Dear Grace,

Do you know what the significance of this Maori woman is? She won’t speak to me and doesn’t seem interested in engaging in conversation. She appears to be looking for someone or something.

Molly quickly slipped into meditation. She feels her mind and body relax as her consciousness shifts from one reality to another and sees herself surrounded by mist. Looking around her she looks for the stairs to The Attic and sees them in the distance at the end of what appears to be an earthy path winding through bush heavy with mist. Effortlessly and purely by thinking or wishing it, she is moving towards and up the stairs, onwards through the opened door of The Attic. Grace is sitting at the table with the Maori woman, and silently beckons Molly to join them. 

“She has not spoken a word, just sits here silently waiting. Hopefully it is you she has been waiting for” Grace informs, slightly perplexed. Molly sits next to the woman and asks how she can help her, what does she need, who or what is she looking for. She shows Molly her hands, palms facing upwards. One is of dark skin, the other is of fair skin. She purposefully interlocks them and grasps firmly, indicating strength. Her face is serious. She looks to Molly and finally is ready to speak, “I am Hinemoa. I have a message for you, the message of Unity. The Land is meant to be shared, we are but her Caretakers. The past must be left where it belongs – in the past. Learn from the mistakes, take what is good, what can be built upon. The People must come together, be united with the focus of health, for family, for work, for community, for The Land. Work together, with one purpose – for the well-being of our families. The pain, the resentment, the anger, the grievances, the injustice of The Past cannot be undone, only forgiveness will heal. The Land is unhappy, She must be the focus, to allow the natural  balance be restored. The Land is for everyone and it is time to give back to her, to care for her as a priority, to feed her, nurture her so that she can continue to give to the future generations. None of us are originally from this Land, we have all come here from far away. And we are all just visitors, our time here in the Physical World is brief. She (Mother Earth) will shake you from time to time to remind you who is boss!” She closes her eyes and laughs quietly, nodding her head in agreement to someone only she can see. Looking directly at Molly, her gaze fixed and purposeful, Hinemoa appears ethereal, translucent. Her energy shifts, and she begins to transforms, morphing into a tree, as ancient as Time itself, her face remains unchanged, distinctly visible in a nook, where a branch had once been. “The Wisdom required comes from Within,” she says and in a blink of an eye, a beat of Molly’s heart, the woman has gone. 

The vision faded and Molly found herself back on the bed in the holiday bach at Ruakaka, Will beside her in the bed reading.

“Hello my Time Traveller, how was today’s adventures? Cup of tea?” he suggested, Molly’s eyes blinked as they adjusting  to the room she was now in.

“Oh Will, it was amazing! It is so real, like I am actually in The Attic with Grace! But anything can happen in that room…anything is possible! Did you say tea? Oh yes please!” the words tumbled out of her mouth excitedly.

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