Tāwhirimātea and Ranginui

Do you know what you were probably thinking this week? You were probably thinking, "I've really been missing those pictures Emma sometimes posts of the incredible view from her house." Well, you are in luck, because I have exactly that, right now. Don't you feel lucky?

At work, I have been teaching the children about ngā atua Māori (the Māori gods/guardians). I really love the way they look after different areas of the natural world, and it is a great connection with the way I like to teach the children that we can take care of the natural world. The concept of kaitiakitanga (guardianship) is a very important one in Māori culture, so I think it is no coincidence that their deities are presented in that role. I have always loved learning about different ways that people see meaning and purpose in the world around them, and I find myself naturally gravitating towards mindsets that involve cooperation, caring, and appreciation of what we have here on earth. The Māori worldview does this beautifully, in my opinion, with each atua inspiring us to notice and admire the wonderful things about their part of the natural world. My mind is wrapped up in these ideas during the day as I work to bring them to life for the children, as they are a fundamental part of their bicultural heritage as New Zealanders, but even once I go home, I still feel connected to these guardians who are generously looking out for everything around me.

Tāwhirimātea is the atua of wind, storms, clouds, etc. and Ranginui is the Sky Father. So when I look out at the amazing displays in the sky over Wellington, I find myself thanking Tāwhirimātea and Ranginui for these gifts. 

(Side note: I am not the only one who particularly likes Tāwhirimātea. The children find him much more physically present than many of the other atua, as you can feel his strong breath in the wind, especially in Wellington. It is not uncommon to be outside and hear a child's voice yelling, "Not so hard, Tāwhirimātea!" or "Tāwhirimātea, please blow away those clouds!" or "Emma, Tāwhirimātea blew sand in my eye!")

These two atua clearly put some of their best efforts into impressing me in particular, and what is truly amazing is their endless creativity! It is never the same twice, and the surprises and variations keep me fascinated and inspired. So well done, Ranginui and Tāwhirimātea!

Even a regular afternoon is beautiful.

This was one morning when the fog decided to hide in the valley instead of burning away when the sun came up. If you didn't know, wouldn't you think that that was a lake? The whole valley was submersed in a soupy mist, and it was amazing!

The thick moisture hung above the city on this particular morning, hovering enough above the horizon that the rising sun could streak through, lighting everything in gold and giving the distant hills a magical look. 

I can tell before I look out if it is like this, because as soon as I walk out of the dark bedroom into the lounge, I can see that everything has a golden hue and the light is coming from a strange angle. Then I rush to the window to see how low the cloud cut-off is that morning.

Sometimes the monochromatic skies can be every bit as alluring as the brightly coloured ones. 

I also love the contrast between bright sun and dark clouds. This one looks a bit like a competition between Tamanuiterā (the sun) and Tāwhirimātea (who would be blowing the clouds), with each one trying to take over the sky with his presence. Tamanuiterā won that day, but there are lots more chances for Tāwhirimātea.

Despite a somewhat decent knowledge of the actual makeup of clouds, I will never manage to rid myself of the impression that they would be feather-soft and delightfully springy to touch when they look like this.

I will have to do a proper post about ngā atua Māori in the near future. I am working on an extended exploration project with the children at the moment, of which they are a big part, so maybe when I'm finished, I'll do a post about both.