Published: July 14th 2008July 14th 2008
Friday 13th June. I had cancelled my flight to Melbourne that day for a very special occasion, which I felt very honoured to be a part of. Naeri, Take (Naeri’s son), Stuart, Meilia, Lorna’s mother, Taori her partner, and myself took the box with Lorna’s ashes up to a point where she had visited on their homeland. We scattered a lot of the ashes to the wind, to symbolise the air, and to 360 degrees around the landscape and buried the box with the rest into the Earth. The fire had taken place with the cremation in the UK, and some ashes had been given to the sea, so now the cycle of elements was complete, and the wood was all around too as we were in the bush surrounded by trees. The view was as still and calm as it has always been through ancient histories of time. The landscape stood firm, and silent and looking out across to the sea we pictured how it would have been for ancestors watching as the boats came ashore, friend or foe, and how our way of life has evolved from these times. Stu found a shell up there on the hill
which would have been from a seafood meal back then, when Maurai lived in camps among the trees. As the sun was setting we took one last breath from the ambient
surround, and entered into the trunks and vines of the bush.
‘Its this way, this way.. definitely’ proclaimed Take and Stu, and to a point it certainly was. Charging ahead, it all seemed to look the same. Naeri’s instincts told her otherwise, but we meandered further down the rugged edge, now lost in leaves and with only Tauroi’s knowledge of a lenghthy direction of where we could possibly see our way clear, but not without darkness falling upon us. Naeri had to make a stand. Thank goodness she did. Loosing her expensive bling sunnies along the way. We followed attentively , a little concerned at the prospect of spending the night in the wilderness. However the path way cleared and back on track we laughed with a sigh of relief as we made tracks back to the car.
The spirit of the land feels very close to that of the highlands of Scotland, where my own ancestory lies. The brave & fierce, yet kind & loving nature
of its embrace hummed subtle vibrations close to the senses.
The morning of the 14th was the start of a bright and sunny day. Mourners had travelled from all many parts of the country to gather for the memorial of Lorna Nicholls. We all met outside the (Mauraki, sorry unsure of spelling), the meeting house, and as Family and close relations prepared for the service, those who had not entered before awaited invitation. Upon entering, photographs of ancestors were displayed upon the wall, and each side of the family sat either side of the room, each taking it in turns to speak or sing to the deceased. Although many of us did not understand all of what was said, it was a powerful declaration none the less. Looking around at all the beautifully carved, and designed figures of men, women and symbols of nature, with their intricit attention to detail, and placed paua stone shells for eyes. Staring out upon us, you could feel a sense of the spirit world moving within and out from the colossal colours of those blues and greens that held a motion of the sea, captured & bound within this vastness of time.
Lorna's resting place
With friends and Family
After a break for tea we moved down towards the cemetery, where the new Headstone was to be unveiled. There is to be no food or drink within the boundries of this space, and when leaving we wash our hands so as not to bring any bad spirits with us. Jim, Lornas father asked if I would read out a poem that her friend Beverly Knight from England had written for the funeral in the UK. I have a copy if anyone would like the whole poem, The Likes Of Lorna,
‘….Lorna liked to ‘pfaff about’, taking ages to get anywhere! Lorna liked to talk and listen long into the night. Anything and everything could be a topic of discussion. She was widely read and could always be relied upon for a good book. Her kindness and generosity would always shine through winning over opponents through debate and intellectual understanding.
Lorna liked ‘being around’, hanging out, pottering about and loitering with intent. But most of all… Lorna liked us. You and me - all of us. I am proud to have been liked by Lorna - I am truly blessed. There is a gap in our lives now. A
The Likes Of Lorna
Reading of a poem, by Bev Knight, Brighton
Lorna shaped gap. We shall not see the likes of Lorna again.’
After a lunch that filled everyone more than necessary, prepared and attended to by the families, with big thanks, we were invited back to Jims house. Where music was sung and played, wine and beer conversations of memories and feelings, joy and laughter, even some booty shaking by all the women, and as I was talking to Matt, Lorna’s brother, a shooting star passed by the sky, ‘I just saw a star fly’ I said excitedly, ‘that’s Lorna’ he said.
Without too much of a sore head, the following morning we all made it down to the beach. Andy, Take’s father was having fun making a big sculpture from all the drift wood he had collected on the shore, so we all made our way down to pose for a group picture. What a lovely memorable moment that was!
With a real early start and thanks to Matt for the lift I was heading back to the land of Oz, on a mission now to meet the Wizard, not the one at the end of the yellow brick road, but the Mutonia
A painting with all our love from the UK
Wizard! The Earthdream visionary, Mutoid Waste creator, Robin Mutoid, for the Burning Demon Festival! .com…
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