Poppies, Taupo, and the Auckland Museum
If you follow my writing regularly (bah!) you might be getting sick of reading about my travel stories. I’m sorry (not really) to say that I’ve got two more left in my arsenal before I feel like I’ve processed this trip and what feels like a pivotal moment in my life. I suspect this year might very well be a pivotal moment in our human history as well.
“History doesn’t repeat itself but it often rhymes,” — Mark Twain
Our current state of affairs seems to be a denial of truth while making the obscene into the palatable on every corner of this beautiful planet. From New Zealand to America, democracies seem to crumbling. Yet, Good people, art, beauty, children, family, friends and nature inspire such pure hope. It’s an eternal cycle of vicious ignorance. An unadulterated disregard for life on earth seem to dominate the landscape.When people ask, what is the point of it all? I know my answer. I write to digest world events in the context of my own small life and to provide my children with a legacy I hope they will be proud of. The trite eternal search for truth. Sometimes the struggle is enough. Nothing epic or heroic, just the simple right to exist.
My dreams sometimes feel prophetic. No, I don’t think I’m psychic, I don’t obsess about the paranormal, I don’t look for signs. I believe in data but I heed my gut instincts and warnings. My sixth sense has saved me much anguish in life. I trust it. These dreams strike me as particularly timely given the global tensions, political posturing and loss of life that’s occurring everywhere, at an alarming rate.
I was raised in a household that didn’t rule out the supernatural. While my background is in the hard sciences I’ve managed to find the intersection of the mystical with the scientific. Prior to our familial romp in New Zealand, I had two separate dreams about poppies. The kind of dreams that stick with you, the kind that try and tell you something. I chalked it up to what at the time was an upcoming holiday, Remembrance Day. I tend to be a mild history buff and that day holds significance for me (see Mark Twain). In hindsight, I’m not so sure why I had these dreams. These are my thoughts on the subject.
There are few places I’ve ever traveled where I looked at my husband and flatly said, “I could live here.” New Zealand is one of them. From the moment we landed I felt safe and comfortable. A home away from home. Being cautious, I’m almost hesitant to say that. The only factors that give me pause are it’s geographic location in the world. New Zealands’ reliance on local economies like Australia and China and it’s susceptibility to climate change make it slightly less appealing than North America.
Poppies line the shores of campsites like elephant rock, and dot the landscape of the roadside into Auckland. Every time I see them I feel as though history is speaking to us all, we just won’t listen. A collective hubris the likes of which I doubt the world has ever seen seems to cloud our vision. This is where I truly believe western civilization has lost its way. Progress and moving forward, blind, without the context and the nuance of the past.
Time and again my mom drilled in me: remember your history. Remember how people treat you, not for vengeance but for context. Remember kindness when looking for support, remember your allies, remember truth. Remember, so you do not repeat the same cycle. It’s ALWAYS how you dig yourself out of any hole. She’s been right all of these years.
I have a very fundamental understanding of international relations, a pretty decent knowledge of economics, a rather excellent memory and hella sound logic skills. What I understand best are the motivations of people and tipping points. The recent killing of Qasem Soleimani, the subsequent downing of the Ukraine International Airlines Flight, and the injuring of several US soldiers during the Iranian posturing didn’t make the world a safer place. The misinformation, the political back pedaling and blatant lies told to the American people are utterly reminiscent of political manipulation and spin.
I will not vilify Iranians or anyone else. Regimes and tyrants exist (even in our own backyards). Their people have as much right to self determination as any American. I do not support terrorism in any forms but perspective is relative. No one people, religion or country could possibly be evil. They act at the behest of those in power. Often marginalized, poor, manipulated and disenfranchised people make really ignorant choices. That happens here, in America and all industrialized nations as well.
I realize I know little of the horrors of war, I’m not sure I have the stomach for it. I do however have the spine to admit when I’m out of my depth, when I need help, when it is prudent to shut my mouth and consider the consequences of my actions. I will bear responsibility for all that I say and do, all that I type, any ill I wish upon others and for my poor judgement. It is my duty and responsibility as a human being and those are the values my parents taught their children.
We are fighting wars on so many fronts. Climate change, corruption, misogyny, human hubris and stupidity. We are failing on several fronts. Lest we forget…
From the short time I was fortunate to spend in Taupo (where the above picture of the last post was taken) to Auckland, our vacation kept offering me the same lessons. Look to history. Look to my own experiences and to those you’ve honored, read and shared. Remember a lifetime of witnessing, understanding and compassionately bearing witness to human suffering in all of its forms.
Our time spent in Auckland also allowed us to visit the city’s Auckland museum. It has an inspiring collection of Maori artifacts, an impressive wing dedicated to New Zealand’s military history and many interactive exhibits that keep children engaged. I highly recommend it. I could have easily spent two full days there absorbing just the legends of the Maori. Visitors also have the privilege of bearing witness to a Haka (an ancient ritual dance demonstrating a tribe’s unity, strength and pride), if you so choose.
The WWII hall of memories left a lasting impression on my family. As with every war memorial across the globe the names of men and women who sacrificed their lives in order for us to live in safety emblazon the walls. One marble panel had us holding our breath in a moment of silence. The truth of that moment is more potent today as my children step towards a very unstable geopolitical future: “Let these panels never be filled”.
Peace might be a naive concept. I’m not sure if we have yet evolved beyond out territorial, dominant, tribal nature to appreciate a world without conflict. I certainly believe peace is still an ideal worth striving for and ultimately worth dying for. Unfortunately, these empty panels are still being filled as we speak — with soldiers, civilians, and species alike.
The Pou Kanohi gallery (New Zealand at war) in the museum helps people connect with the various viewpoints of wartime conflict. From the survivor, veteran, family member, citizen, pacifist, and warrior, the perspective offered is wide reaching and expansive. It tells a fuller, more subtle story that encompasses the limits of compassion and the aftermath of human trauma.
I’ve always been fond of spoken word poetry as a means to celebrate the human condition, deal with trauma and bring people together. The Auckland museum offers you a few minutes in a speakeasy, where the topic is war and its consequences. Tears came to my eyes watching these clips. They represent the gambit of experiences. Here are a few of the pieces that moved me. They are highly relevant right now.
‘To be honest, I don’t think I want to fit in. Because if it means throwing away my respect for my culture and my elders, then it would be the worst of my failures.’ — Victoria Tagicakibau
‘See I watched you stand for a flag that did not bleed for us. March into a world that wasn’t yours, declare yourself a warrior again as if you had something to prove. As if your ancestors didn’t wield taiaha in their hearts. As if you had given up fighting; 10 years on they were still fighting, with lovers turned nurses for post traumatic taniwha, that would soon swallow them like a backhand full of alcohol. A 100 years on we are still fighting.’ — Sheldon Rua
‘The waka departed from the harbor and has come back round here. Ushering bodies of men with souls more blistered, fragments from the machinery of war’ .— Onehou Strickland
Lest we forget. Let these panels never be filled…. Yet I fear that we have long since forgotten and they will be filled at a rate that dehumanizes us all.
========================================
Go forth and break bread:
Oreo truffles were crack for my niece and nephew. Go easy on the cream cheese.
Please be cognizant of the ripple effect. Time is so precious and we are here for such a short time, live it fully.
