When you put all the pieces together it's really clear that standing with indigenous people on the front lines of their own whenua is probably the most powerful climate action we can take. That's true here in Aotearoa as much as it is in Palestine.
But I love that it was Love, not fear, that wrested you free in the end.
More than once I felt like kneeling down. There’s a kind of awe that hits you when you understand the scale of the loss and the commitment required to heal and recover.
Lois realises in her list of delights, there are no mundane tasks. Is she lazy? Possibly. Probably. She is surrounded by people who excel at the domestic. Lois prefers to document the domestic.
This is my wero and karanga back to you e te tuahine. What about that initial vision you talked to me about? Do you remember?
When my puku is churning it usually means I have to.
A weird and short parable.
Years ago, Lois used to argue with John in actual cafes. They would meet and he would have a long black and her and oat milk flattie. Sometimes they ate (him lasagne with side salad, her a scone which she'd barely touch).
"To get to a place where you could love anything you chose — not to need permission for desire — well now, that was freedom." - Toni Morrison
I think we all instinctively know that the ethics of witnessing on social media is barbed, but I suspect a lot of us don't talk about it because there isn't an easy language for it.
The ones who walk away in Le Guin’s 1973 dystopian short story are those who refuse to accept that the price of their own freedom is the denial and violent suppression of someone else’s. But walk away to do what? To go where?
For the first couple of hours, the conversation flowed easily. It wasn’t the awkward Pākehā BBQ Lois had been expecting.