Molly and Will drove south for a day trip to Waipu Cove. A beautiful sandy beach in a small sheltered bay, the shoreline is scattered with amazing shells, all similar, tumbled in a way only the waters in this part of the coast can do. Molly could feel the presence of Hinemoa in the back seat of the car, staring intently as if she was looking for something, her eyes scanning the landscape through the window. She appeared to Molly in much more detail and her energy felt strong today. As they arrived at the carpark for the beach, Hinemoa’s face lit up and there was a hint of a smile in the corner of her lips. During the time that Molly had been aware of this spirit woman, she had always held a serious demeanour, always staring out of the window distantly, her eyes searching. Continuing to ignore Molly and Will, the woman did not want to engage in any further communication. Today she was searching for something in particular out on the horizon. Will parked the car and they went for a walk. Now, as they were standing at the entrance to the beach, Molly could feel Hinemoa’s presence outside of the car, standing beside her, tall, proud and somewhat younger in appearance. Her kakahu (woven cloak) wrapped around her shoulders, the wind swept her long dark hair back from her face as she gazed out to the islands, smiling, her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for something familiar beyond Molly’s awareness.
Molly contemplates what her story must be. Has she come home? Will the spirit woman reveal her story to Molly? Out from the beach at Waipu Cove are The Hen and Chicken Islands. This group of islands were first sighted by Captain James Cook in 1769, who named them after a nickname for the star cluster known as Pleiades or to the Maori as Matariki. Molly, now sitting in the cafe with Will across the road from the beach’s entrance, continues to observe the vision of Hinemoa standing on the shore singing – coming towards her in the water is a waka (canoe), in which an old man, a chief, sits proudly with his eyes firmly locked on her. There are two younger men paddling and singing.
Hineoma turns to Molly, half of her face appears fair skin with a blue eye, the other half is dark brown skin with a brown eye. She smiles at her and calls out (in Maori*…..) and then in English, “Remember Me and all I stand for – Unity.” She tells Molly she has left precious gifts for her on the beach….the seashells, and that she is to create something with them, something to remember Hinemoa’s message of Unity!
Travelling further north Molly and Will arrived in Pahia yesterday. Whilst driving out of Kawakawa and up the hill before coming into the small village of Pahia, there was one part of the road where Molly felt a rush of heat through her body, her head light and slightly dizzy. She woke this morning feeling unwell, headachy and a little ‘off’ so they decided to just wander through the village and see what the area had to offer. Pahia is a waterfront village in the Bay of Islands, a very picturesque location and a small port for water activities, sailing, parasailing, canoeing, snorkelling, scuba diving, fishing. It is another popular tourist destination. A ferry transporting people and cars across to Russell provides regular access across the water. Russell is on a rather remote portion of the mainland, more easily accessible by water. To drive would take more than an hour along an unsealed road. The waterfront was busy with restaurants, cafes, motels and shops, amongst these were a sprinkling of old buildings from the pioneering days of the mid 1800’s.
It had been a couple of days since Molly had written to Grace, or meditated. In the afternoon, she decided to stay at the motel and write. Will was happy to do some work on his current job, an illustration for a book he was consigned to through The Little Book Publishing Company in Wellington. The motel room was a studio apartment, the open plan design combined a large lounge-kitchen-dining area and bedroom. It had the feeling of spaciousness, high ceilings and a glass wall in which a sliding door opened out onto a balcony. The bathroom had a large, deep and inviting spa bath. Molly made herself comfortable on the bed with her journal and began to write….
What an amazing couple of days! Have you been able to see or sense what I have been experiencing? I hope I can meet with you in The Attic again today. I have missed our home.
Molly’s body relaxed into mediation with ease. Her mind unravelling, drifting with that beautiful blissful, floating feeling of nothingness that calms the mind completely, allowing it to open up to her imagination. She sees herself standing at the bottom of the stairs which leads to The Attic in her house. They seem so real! Walking up the stairs and opening the door, she enters a dark room. It feels misty, the air damp as if she has stepped outside into a cool night. As her eyes adjust to the darkness she begins to see the outline of a fire pit in the middle of the room. The more she focusses on this the clearer the vision becomes. She is aware of the need to slow her breathing and that by focussing on the vision before her, she will able to see more detail. There before her are The Aunties – Manaia of the Four Winds sitting
around the fire, their poi (a light ball and string used to swing rhythmically with dance, song and music) on the ground by their feet. Standing proudly behind them are The Maori Boys, in their hands they each have a taiaha (a long wooden weapon carved at one end). Through the mist comes a man and a woman both wearing beautifully woven and intricately decorated kakahu (cloaks). They take their designated seats in the circle, nodding greetings to each of the women and young men. Then the chief stands, his heavily tattooed face serious, waves his hand at Molly, beckoning her to come and sit with them. Grace is already sitting in the circle with the women. Molly hesitates, trying to grasp what she is witnessing here. The chief insists and all the women turn looking expectantly at her, she hesitates as her mind is struggling with this. But the hesitation is not tolerated and the look of expectancy turns to demand. The older woman stands up, holds out her hand and smiles reassuringly. She sits Molly down in an allotted place and stands behind her placing both of her hands on Molly’s shoulders. “Breathe” she whispers as she squeezes her shoulders. Molly closes her eyes trying to focus on her breathing, her heart racing. A vision flashes before her, a story of their history, speeding backwards through Time from the present moment to way back in the past, event after event flicking like scenes in a movie until there is nothing but a dark swirling mist and the smell of sulphur, pungent in her nose, so real it burns her throat and makes her eyes stream. Feeling the hot burning sensation deep in her lungs, Molly begins to cough, a hard dry rasping cough. She can feel a lump rising in her throat like she is about to vomit. Out of her mouth emerges a mist-like creature, in the shape of a Manaia (Spiritual Guardian). He is one of The Ancient Ones from before the beginning of Time. He stands before Molly, large and mystical, and speaks to her in a language completely unfamiliar, not even a trace of Maori. She does not understand a word of what is being said, so she decides to focus on how the sound of its words make her feel… humble, honoured, blessed, privileged. The older woman stands before her holding one hand to her ear, the other to her belly, and translates his words.
“Remember the words of Hinemoa and what she stands for – Unity. Future generations must grow together, work together, create together for the good of Mother Earth as their focus.”
The chief stands and stamps his taiaha to the hard, dry, earthen floor three times and announces, “We are done!”
And as quickly as the vision began, it had ended. The room fell silent and instantly into darkness, Molly did not know what to do. Where was Grace?
Molly opened her eyes to find herself back in the motel room, her journal on her lap, Will sitting on the lounge, his legs propped up on the coffee table, sketch pad on his knees, engrossed in his work.
“What the fuck?!” Molly thought, struggling to grasp what she had just experienced.
“Write” she hears Grace whisper in her mind. Quickly she begins writing in her journal what she had just experienced before the clear memory of it fades.