Reconciling roots

The May postcard...

I am suffering the consequences of having had a very full plate for some time. I am beginning to leave dishes unwashed in the sink. The pile of unfolded laundry is growing legs, the assigned chair groaning under its weight (we all have “the chair”, no?).

No feels like the operative word. I’m in a period of shedding, keeping things simple, focusing attention on matters in hand rather than developing new projects. The grey (admin) jobs feel endless. It’s a time of preparation for what lies ahead.

I’ll be visiting the UK in a few short weeks. A necessary trip. A wedding for a significant friend. Time with my mum and sister. Saying goodbye to the family cottage that was a refuge for us for many years. A trip that’s been complicated by rising fuel prices and middle eastern conflicts, that’s led me to be a little more creative with the route. I’m bouncing through LA, Turkey and Bali. Literally an around the world trip. I’ll also be working remotely to extend my time away. The whole thing feels like an experiment. Travelling that far is costly and stressful. It’s possibly not something I’ll be doing again for a little while, which is why it’s even more special that my partner is coming with me! I’m very much looking forward to having a travel buddy and showing him all my old haunts. It’s giving me permission to revel in nostalgia. I want to show him my walk to school, my grandparents’ house, the fields that grow blackberries and the woods that house bluebells. Nottingham Castle and the Olde Tripe to Jerusalem. He wants to do archery in Sherwood Forest and see for real that there is actually surf in England.

I’ve become enthralled with Nottingham’s folklore myself, chiefly with Maid Marian. She is the ultimate heroine archetype. I often refer to the maiden archetype to understand a certain energy and chapter in my life. The maiden is playful and explorative. Optimistic, youthful and go getting. On her shadow side, she can naïve, an eternal child, and requires protection and guidance from her elders. I used to chastise my inner maiden, precisely for a shadow, without realising she fired my curiosity, sensuality, sense of adventure and joie de vivre.

Maid Marian’s story has been changed throughout history to fit the mode of the times, whether that be seductive sea goddess, medieval shepherdess, May Queen or chaste maiden. She was certainly so much more than Robin Hood’s lover. She was a warrior in her own right. Of free and wild spirit. A woman of action and a woman of the forest, who fought in battles and communed with nature. A cultural expression of divine femininity, fertility and abundance. I particularly loved this article, published by the Left Lion, Nottingham’s local newspaper. (The Left Lion is the statue in Market Square that was always the meeting point for gangs of teenagers, mostly the goths).

Nostalgia has a way of washing over us like a filter. It’s easy to look back with rose tinted glasses, comforting even to reminisce. I’m nervous for what might have changed for the worse since I let the UK. Will groceries be as cheap as I remember? Has the mood of the country become more hostile and angrier? Will I be itching to get back to New Zealand after a couple of weeks? I wonder if it will it serve me well to be reminded of the reasons why I left, as well as enjoying the parts I miss. I’ll be buying a newspaper every Sunday, visiting my favourite chocolate shop and pressing my nose into every flower in my mum’s garden whilst listening to the birdsong at dusk.

I’m moving house soon. The noise from the supermarket trucks became too much to bear. This little flat has served me well, but I felt called to change. A quiet neighbourhood. A little more space. A vegetable garden. A spare room/office (to replace “the chair”). My nervous system decided it was time.

Money continues to be a source of stress, as I’m sure it is for everyone in this current climate. Constant choices and appraisal as to what holds value. Speaking of, I have very much been enjoying Elizabeth Arden’s 8-hour cream. After what’s felt like half a year battling chapped lips, I purchased a tube of this on recommendation of a friend and they healed overnight. Perfect against windburn, sunburn or the sterile dry-ness of a windowless office. Shits on Lucas’s Pawpaw. I don’t leave home without it.

I’ve also recently discovered Assembly Label. When I first moved to New Zealand, I knew that as well as my family, friends and furniture, I’d be leaving behind decent shops. After making do for the last couple of years, I was hankering after some new work clothes that suited Auckland’s subtropical climate. As the season turns, cold crisp mornings boil over by lunchtime. Light layers are needed. Natural fabrics. SLEEVES. Assembly Label is a welcome alternative to my beloved & Other Stories and Arket. Chic, affordable and quality capsule wardrobe delights. I now have a new work uniform of smart trousers, their elasticated waists (essential) hidden by an untucked crisp cotton Oxford shirt. Paired with leather boots or single strap Mary Janes, a strong earring and voila. Very Brittany Bathgate. Did I need the red swimsuit and raffia sunhat? Of course! Pammy Ann meets A Bigger Splash! I’m not sure my accountant will agree.

I am finding work draining. There’s nothing particularly “wrong”, nor is there anything I’m willing to critique, I’m incredibly lucky to do what I do, but my capacity has certainly diminished. I’m looking forward to a break and spending some time with family. People, other than my partner, who I can be my most unsanitised self with, rather than waking up every day with jazz hands and the weight of other people’s problems. Burnout is real, and after what has been a tremendous push forward with work this last year, a little retreat feels apt.

When I moved countries, I felt called to place emotional, as well as physical, distance between myself and the UK. An opportunity for reinvention. An unconscious pulling away. There were wounds that needed nursing and were healed by nature and kinship found in New Zealand. I’m now feeling called to reconcile my roots. There was once a desire to fully cut the apron strings that tethered me to the UK, the things that made me sad, or times I wished to forget. Now, I’m not so sure it’s healthy, or even possible. Surely to do so would be to exiling parts of myself, that no matter how dark or unsavoury, are part of my whole.

Whakapapa is the Māori term for genealogy, lineage, or descent, literally translating to “placing in layers” or “to make a base”. It links people to ancestors, land, and the spiritual world, forming the core of Māori identity, culture, and social structure, connecting all animate and inanimate things. I feel we are interconnected with all those who have touched our lives. Bonds might stretch but I wonder if they ever fully break. Whakapapa acknowledges the importance of where you come from, the land that held you and who came before you. Knowing your roots can strengthen your sense of belonging. All are reasons why you are here and how you hold yourself today. I’m feeling called to re-trace mine.