What are the most important things of the world? icon

What are the most important things of the world?


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He aha te mea nui o te ao?

He tangata, he tangata, he tangata.

What are the most important things of the world?


It is the people, it is people, it is people.

Māori Whakataukī (proverb)


The Day of the Aranga - The day of secular and spiritual harvest in accordance with the Prophet Te Whiti o Rongomai


Parihaka, Western Taranaki, Te Ika a Maui, North Island of Aotearoa, May 2016

There was warmth on the morning air that Merekara had become used to now, but it was not always this way. When he first came to Parihaka, the morning after his arrival he had gotten up to witness the rising of Matariki, signifying the beginning of the Māori New Year and it had been unforgivingly chilly. Though he was wrapped in every garment he could find, the cold had found its way through the layers he had covered himself in and pierced his flesh, hitting bone where it tied itself and so smothered him. The constellation had been bright that year as it rose on the horizon, as he had been told it would be if he fulfilled his destiny.

The synchronicities began to fall into place with his arrival at Parihaka and he welcomed them, as the community went from strength to strength. Now, it was the last bastion of true freedom on the planet. A sinister cabal, one dismissed by so many as imaginary had enacted their long and cleverly drawn out plans spanned across thousands of years, and played their final hand, a third and devastating global conflict with the merciless precision of beings incapable of feeling empathy, or compassion.

The warmth that lingered in the air, was stale, heavy, its toxicity immeasurably worse in the northern hemisphere where years of attrition between factions set against each other had seen the systematic destruction of Asia, Europe, North America, The Middle East and swathes of the Pacific, Australia and Central and South America and Africa. The smell of blood and rubble had long gone, now trapped sunlight clung to the filaments of dust and radioactive fallout drifting in the winds that moved down from the once burning east coast of Australia.

Matariki’s annual rise had been a shimmer every year since that first rising Merekara had seen. War had broken out that same year in the Middle East as the Arab world was embattled against the Zionist nations. The constellations dim visage was a sign of a world descending into chaos. The very force that had brought Merekara here seemed to be deserting him, and initially he believed this was how it was.

Merekara looked back over his shoulder. In the faint light he peered at the community that he had dreamed into existence. A settlement that embraced the uniqueness of culture, creating strength in diversity and an understanding of co-operation that saw it thrive. The township of Parihaka now had over four thousand residents from all over the world. Earthships splayed across the land like arks beached after a great flood had receded away leaving the vestibules of sustainability and harmony all facing the north to catch the sunlight in their solar panels.

The hue of light changed unperceivable to one not accustomed to its significance making Merekara turn back towards the horizon. A grey-yellow hue was rising, a tsunami of light pushing back the presence of the night. What stars were observable were diffused by the choking smog in the air, making Merekara’s heart sink at the thought that the Aranga was not upon them yet. He took a deep breath and dropped his head, exhaling loudly. He turned from the spot and was making his way down the hill when his feet froze. His entire muscular and skeletal system was rigid. All that he could move were his eyes. His oculus darted from side to side attempting to see what had arrested him to where he stood, but he could see no one.

“RERE! RERE!” Merekara hadn’t heard the voice that coursed through his body for many years; it had woken him from his slumber (metaphorically) when he was involved in gangs and crime years before. It was the voice of the leader of the Rūnanga, the council of elders, Te Whiti-o-Rongomai.

Merekara’s body lost its stiffness; he magnetically turned to face the dawning skies his muscles burning with wave after wave of electrical signals enlivening his reformatting DNA.

"Te Paki O Matariki." He whispered over his numb lips, spittle darting out of his mouth as he forced the words out.

They formed an envoy into the abyss of space, a calling to the family that had galvanized his destiny. They were his Atua; his council and their love had given him the guidance, the strength to accomplish the visions bestowed upon him.

The pounamu around his neck enlivened, radiating an ardour that melded with the luminescence of his spirit as he prepared himself for the alchemy of connection.

Then through the mire shone the constellation, brighter, stronger, than he had ever seen before. Each star blazing one after another in a symphony of spectacle as though empowered in a dance of radiance. Their luminosity grew stronger as the suns rays continued to push back the receding darkness, their dance hastening, Merekara’s eyes darting around the constellation to follow the increasing speed of the twinkling stars till gossamer fibres of radiance stretched to a midway point between the stars creating a burgeoning blue sun whose expanse almost swallowed the star system. As quickly as it had grown it shrunk, leaving Merekara stunned, his eyes glued to it, as it became a pinprick.

The gush of energy that had been passing through his body halted and Merekara went limp, swaying uneasily on his feet, his heart pounding against his ribs, his breathing short and quick. As he began to regain a semblance of how he was before this incident a blue ray of compassion, intelligence and wisdom hurtled through space at the speed of thought, finding its mark, cascading over the lone soul, its origins the pinprick in the middle of the Pleiades. He trembled voraciously, his eyes rolling back into his head as photons of light translated into a directive he would yield to share as the language of the spirit.

In the tradition of his great, great, grandfather,

Te Whiti o Rongomai he had listened to spirit and been guided to Parihaka. His Whakapapa had given him the means to cement the will of consciousness, establishing a connection that all could share.

He brought together all the facets of the diamond of multi dimensional existence by keeping the tradition of the days set aside by the Prophet Te Whiti o Rongomai for the tirades of spirit. They had brought harmony to the worlds they existed in, only to have the colonial British disrupt their connection with this vortex of immense prestige; his beloved Parihaka. The Colonial Governments attempt to steal the thunder of the chief was pointless; he returned here after being imprisoned in the South Island. Magnetized by his love for this place.

In the early years of the twenty-first-century another prism for the forces of love to unite and focus their intent through had risen amongst the people of Aotearoa. His name was Merekara, Miracle. In a time of escalating darkness he had anchored a sanctuary of light.

Merekara dropped to his knees breathing heavily, his chin propped against his chest. He gathered his wits lifting his head to look up towards the fading Matariki, being swallowed in the early morning light. He grinned blissfully. Already the message was formulating into his mind, a lullaby that would mesmerize the beloved denizens of Parihaka.


Some years earlier…


“Come on bay-boy?…have a pull on it.” The glass pipe, its interior heavily coated with the remnants of the residue of methamphetamine was thrust into Merekara’s face.

Merekara looked at it, and then followed the heavily tattooed hand up along the length of the arm that held it, to the shoulder and neck and eventually taking his eyes to meet the twitching glare of the man who was egging Merekara to partake in the experience.

“I FUCKEN SAID HAVE SOME!” The mask of civility had dropped as though a switch had been flicked casting a fury-eyed monster in its place. The man’s eyes had gone dark, his brow arched, his teeth gnarled. “I’LL FUCKEN STAB YA IF YA DON’T TAKE SOME.” He leaned into Merekara whispering his vehemence on his pungent venomous breath.

Merekara got up swiftly, the man whose weight was transferred onto Merekara’s right side slid down the sofa to the amusement of the horde in the room who laughed heartily at his folly.

“Leave him alone Eddie.” A figure seated across the room from where the scene was unfolding threw a bottle top at the slouched figure on the couch who sprung to his feet, hissing at Merekara as he crossed the room swiftly picking a bottle of beer from the crate in the middle of the room, pulling a lighter from his pocket and popping the top off the bottle in a single motion.

Merekara took a swig of the cool amber liquid, smiling at the man who had commanded the room, placing his hand upon his shoulder, and walked down the corridor and towards the front door. On the way he passed rooms, their doors slightly ajar, in one room two men were in the throngs of sexual union with an overly eager woman, in another a single figure counted vast amounts of money, placing it into shoeboxes.

Merekara could hear the loud musings coming from the room he had left. Threats he guessed, though he couldn’t make out the words, the tone was heavy, vehement, bitter. He made it to the front door, opening it and walked down the stairs and along the pathway leading to the front gate.

“Merekara!’ The stern tone, the brusque inflection was instantaneously recognisable, Henare, the Ariki, the leader of gang’s voice rung out of the darkness.

Merekara turned back towards the house, but saw no one. A silhouette moved from a parked car to the left of the domicile, smoke wafting up from its interior catching Merekara’s eye line.

“Where are you going?” Henare whispered softly, extending a hand, placing it on Merekara’s shoulder. “Has Whatu been giving you shit again?”

Merekara bowed his head looking at the path, tilting his baseball cap to one side. He slumped his slight shoulders in recognition of this truth. Merekara was merely a teenager, slim, tall and yet to grow into his skin. Whatu, some years older than Merekara took every opportunity to abuse him with the same verbal and physical abuse that he himself had endured at Merekara’s age when he had joined the gang.

“I’m just going for a walk matua.” Merekara admitted to Henare.

Henare towered over Merekara, the little light cast from the rooms in the house splayed around his long flowing curls of his hair, his broad shoulders and barrel chest making him look colossal to Merekara who shook noticeably in the giant’s presence.

Henare squeezed Merekara’s shoulder gently, assuring him as he spoke. “You have to find strength in your wehi boy. Learn to channel it, and command it.” Henare released his hand on Merekara’s shoulder and brought his arm in front of the young man’s face. “And overcome your fear by creating it in your opponent.” The giant closed his fist, his knuckles rubbing together in a series of clicks.

Merekara nodded, watching the clenched fist, tense at the possibility of Henare using it on him. When the goliath opened his hand Merekara relaxed.

“Henare! Henare.” A woman emerged from the car. From her swagger it was obvious she was intoxicated. “Henare… ka pirangi koe ki te kanikani tahi taua?” Her voice wavered, but was full of affection. She threw her arms around Henare when she was close enough.

“Yes darling. I’d love to dance with you.” His remark was met with giggles from the car. Henare allowed her to lead him back to the vehicle leaving Merekara alone once again.

The young man didn’t hesitate to make the most of the distraction. He moved down the path and was through the gate and onto the street a heartbeat later. He took a heavy swig from the bottle and then tossed it over the fence onto the property he just left, the bottles remaining contents spiling out over the grass as he made his way across the road.

Most of the streetlights were either smashed or their bulbs glowing hue was so dull Merekara walked in perpetual darkness, a metaphor for where he found himself in his present life. His parents had played out their own conditioning faultlessly, his father (like his father before him) a violent drunk who had eventually killed himself and three others in a head-on collision driving home from the local country pub near Patea. His mother had followed him to the grave not long after: she was a passive/aggressive drunk and a chain smoker whose bitterness found its way into her lungs, manifesting as a series of tumours that claimed her life.

Merekara was sent to live with his Auntie in Strathmore, Wellington who paid little attention to him, more occupied with the series of violent men that she attracted into her life. Giving him all the space he needed to find strength in what became his family, the gang lead by Henare.

Merekara began to walk towards Miramar knowing that he could find refuge down by the Massey Memorial. He had slept there many times before, running away from his auntie’s place, building a bivouac in the bush there. He stole a fishing rod from her storage and caught fish off the peninsula, he taught himself to forage for kai moana, eating shellfish and kina when he found it.

By the time Merekara had trekked to the memorial he was exhausted and cold. He wandered over to where he had built his lodging only to discover it had been trashed. The tarpaulin he had used to shelter the circumference of the hut from the elements was gone. The branches he had used to brace the construction lay strewn around the bare earth, snapped, broken, and discarded.

He didn’t survey the destruction with any more emotion than was necessary, moving out of the clearing and back towards the memorial. Thankfully the night was calm, no wind aided the crispness towards icy conditions. It was mid-May and the autumn winds would arrive soon enough making what he was doing now, bedding down in a t-shirt and jeans against the wall of the memorial a dangerous ploy that could lead to hyperthermia.

Merekara lay on the hard cold marble, his head awkwardly dropping down onto the memorial floor. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes and in his tired, slightly drunken state dozed off into slumber.


Ka mate kāinga tahi, ka ora kāinga rua


  • When one house dies, a second lives


Merekara awoke to the sound of a tapping against the marble to the left of his head. He sat up quickly, getting to his feet, dazed and confused but prepared to fight if the need arose.

“All is well boy.” Merekara could hardly make out the man’s face sitting on the wall of the monument, his bushy beard protruding away from his chin, a bowler hat sat atop his head, his suit was covered by a korowai that sat over his right shoulder. He continued to tap the stick on the marble as he spoke. “I didn’t mean to startle you, simply waken you.”

Merekara ran the back of his hand over his chin blinking in the gloom, adjusting his eyes to the dark and the figure sitting in front of him. “Whadya want?” He barked nervously.

“An audience.” The old man said chuckling to himself.

Merekara began to walk away, “Fucken old dick.” He spouted; looking over his shoulder as he sauntered off, his sense of bravado in his gait a façade. He was unsettled, even more so to see the old man had vanished. Merekara felt his skin rise in gooseflesh halting his progress. He turned forward ever so slowly knowing full well that the old man would be blocking his passage, and so he was. Merekara leapt back, hitting the edge of the tomb roof falling back onto it. He scrambled crab-like across its surface as fast as he could move from the apparition who like before was gone. He stopped scurrying, hearing the insistent tapping of the old man’s stick on the marble.

All I ask for is an audience.” Merekara saw the phantom move past his periphery and into plain sight. “Walk with me boy.” The old man looked solid for a ghost. His footsteps made a smacking sound as his bare feet crossed the marble tomb roof. Merekara watched the figure move to the edge of the raised dome, then jump down onto the marble causeway that lead to the dome. He turned back towards Merekara who could make out the old man’s face now. He was smiling, his eyes lit up by what looked like blue-white stars that shone out of the orbs in his head.

Merekara wondered if he was dreaming this as he got to his feet and moved over to the edge of the tomb roof. As Merekara got closer to the old man, the elderly fellow reached up and put his arm on Merekara’s upper arm, as though he was helping him down safely. The old man was solid, not a ghost, and his touch immediately pacified Merekara’s nerves.

The old man released his grasp on Merekara and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder for another moment and then brought it to his side. “My name is Te Whiti.” He said softly looking at Merekara affectionately. “I am your great, great grandfather.” The twinkle of the stars in his eyes was gone, but softness radiated from his black eyes.

“Are you a ghost?” Merekara asked quizzically. “Or is this a dream?”

“If I answered either of your questions would it make this experience less powerful?” Te Whiti answered in a riddle. “Or weaken what I have to say to you?”

Merekara nodded. “You have your audience koro.” If this was a dream it was a welcome relief from the world he had left behind. Merekara would succumb to it as long as it would last.

“Very well.” Te Whiti smiled. “Many years ago my vision of a self-governing Māori settlement beneath the mountain Taranaki was desecrated by a force that I was unable to abate. This aranga was a poison that not only filled the heads of the pakeha but also the Māori too. It polluted the hearts of men making them barren to compassion and empathy, only fertile to the seeds of greed, anger and hatred. All of these emotions are rooted in fear.”

“Where was this place beneath the mountain koro?” Merekara asked.

“Parihaka.” Te Whiti answered sadly. Speaking the name of this place conveyed a deep sorrow for the old man, which was evidently heavy in his tone.

Merekara sensed the anguish in the voice and quickly moved away from the subject of the settlement and to the force that Te Whiti had related to. “What of this aranga?”

Te Whiti began to walk along the cause way that lead to the dome of the tomb, Merekara at his side. “When I first felt its power, saw its menace I believed that it was fuelled by the colonial pākehā’s greed for the land we as Māori had taken guardianship of.” Te Whiti lent on his gnarled old cane as he walked slowly along the marble path, nodding his head as he talked. “But the actions of these pākehā went beyond a mere confiscation. There was a will to destroy our unity, our binding empathy and compassion for one another and the consequent raping of not only the land, but of the woman who were left behind as the men were sent to prisons in the South Island.”

Merekara felt sickened, helpless and then a rising anger boiling up inside.

Te Whiti stopped walking and turned to Merekara. “This is the force that I speak of!” He pointed at Merekara’s skull.

“What?” Merekara said blankly.

“Your reaction to what I just said boy. I can feel your anger like the heat of the sun; its radiance has its place of origin in your brain. This is where the aranga moves through in order to animate the actions of the person.”

“You know how I am feeling?” Merekara quipped.

“There is much I know since I left the restriction of the body.” Te Whiti resumed walking, Merekara at his side, his anger quickly dissipating. “I was able to see discern much when I died. It was like looking at the world as though I was a bird, but granted eyes to see the world of Tāne and Wairua, as they are inseparable. What was invisible to me as a man was now visible to me as spirit. I watched the workings this force, saw its presence, saw its form and watched its trickery.”

“What does it look like koro?”

“It moves like a mist, visible to the eyes of those sensitive enough to see it, only long enough for them to question the validation of their experience. Then hides again in the shadows, its limbs attached to the bodies of those it manipulates like a puppeteer.”

Merekara shivered. Was it the cold? Or had he seen this force in action? He continued to listen intently, but inched closer to the old man, feeling safer in his close proximity.

“Upon seeing it, I realised that it had infiltrated all races of people. Not just the pākehā. Wherever it was it created turmoil, it has savoured the bloodshed of humans, and went about using people like pawns in a game of chess in order to create a pen for their cattle.”

“Cattle?” Merekara whispered.

Te Whiti stopped where the marble walkway met the grass before taking a slow and measured step onto the dewy grass. He stood with one foot on the grass for what seemed an age, his eyes closed, his face expressionless. Then moved his other foot onto the grass. “Pori.” He said turning to Merekara. “People are their cattle.”

Merekara watched the old man walk on the grass shuffling his feet, murmuring karakia, prayers to the earth. Te Whiti’s statement had taken the dream into a realm that concerned Merekara. Was this where his dream cascaded into a nightmare that would see him awaken cold and lonely?

Merekara was still musing over this when Te Whiti offered his hand to the boy, urging him to join him on the grass. “Take off your shoes.” Te Whiti requested. “Join me.”

Merekara placed his heel at the front of his shoe, popping out of it, then did the same with the other foot. He lifted his foot, pulling off his sock on one foot and then the other. The marble beneath the soles of his feet was chilly.

Merekara took Te Whiti’s hand and the cold sensation on his feet dissolved. He shot the old man a glance, who was chuckling to himself.

Come…come.” Te Whiti gently pulled on Merekara’s hand.

Merekara lifted his foot off the marble and placed it over grass. Beads of water tickled the sole of his foot as he transferred his weight onto his suspended limb and placed it on the grass. Instantaneously Merekara felt a welling up, pushing into his skin. Needles of electrical discharges popped through the skin on Merekara’s feet and into his muscle, bone and sinews, coursing up his leg and into his torso. Merekara lifted his other foot and stepped onto the earth. The same sensation passed through his leg and up into his upper body melding together at his heart, then shooting into his head.

“It’s alive!” Merekara said, his whisper becoming a giggling yell. “IT’S ALIVE!”

Te Whiti was serene in his reply. “Papatūānuku is indeed alive boy.” He bent down and placed his hand on the grass. “Pori have forgotten this. They take it for granted, disrespecting their mother who provides them all they need to survive. Food, clothing, shelter, water, she gives her resources so that we may have a chance to experience life.” Te Whiti stood, inhaling deeply as he did, pulling his hand close to his face as though catching the scent of the planet. “All indigenous peoples are kaitiaki, her guardians. Yet many of us have lost our way.” Te Whiti slowly dropped his hand looking the grinning Merekara who had his eyes closed, his head tilted back. “We have become distracted, enticed into a world where the language of spirit is no longer heard. Alcohols, drugs, violence, are all creations of the aranga, beset upon the nations of pori. Their hold over the Māori brings shame upon the tupūna who were so diligent in their actions to protect and preserve their roles.

The smile on Merekara’s face slipped, he lent his head forward to see Te Whiti staring coldly at him.

“Papatūānuku has been enslaved by this aranga. Bound by great stones that hold her blood from flowing, like tourniquets along a limb. Blood is spilt over places where great mana rises, junctions where her power is strongest, anchoring the suppressing energy of the aranga into her bulk in order to allow for the retardation of the vessel that spirit gives life –“ Te Whiti poked Merekara on the flank of his torso with his stick. “ – the body.” Merekara grunted, the prod breaking his revelation. “If she is suppressed, so are we, there is no separation. We are all connected. It is our duty to care for her, to protect her. Not disrespect her, forgo her especially now when she needs us the most.”

The sensations continued to resonate in Merekara as he listened to Te Whiti’s words, but instead of the bemusement he initially felt, he began to feel the aching sadness, and weakening pulse of the planet’s heartbeat.

“Do you feel it?” Te Whiti took a step towards Merekara, whispering softly. “Her stifled heart.”

Merekara choked back the tears as the realisations came quickly. Firstly, he was one of the Māori who had walked away from their role, finding strength in cohesion into a way of life that propagated the aranga. Feeding it, giving it power. His days and often nights were filled with intimidation, anger and creating fear in those whose path he crossed. Drugs and alcohol subdued his pain, absolved the actions of his days into a hazy oblivion, and if this didn’t work he would retaliate with violence towards whomever he could assert himself over.

“I know what you have done boy. I can see your life as though I had lived it. However-“ Te Whiti took a step forward towards Merekara whose head was lying on his chest. “- You are capable of greatness.” The old man put his hand under Merekara’s chin moving it up so that he could see his eyes. “The time for bloodshed is over. No longer can we be warriors who wield the taiaha or the meremere, nor even clench our fists in order to fight.” Te Whiti pulled his hand back placing it over his middle of his chest. “We must become warriors of heart.” He smiled at Merekara. “Our weapon must be LOVE.”

Merekara looked stunned. The concept was so foreign to one that only knew of fear as their weapon. “Koro. I don’t understand.”

“When I was a man I fought against the aranga in its incarnations, both Māori and Pākehā, fighting fire with fire. This only made it stronger and more violent. Then a revelation came to me. From the language of the spirit, I was to not act with anger towards the forces that wished my people do so, but I was to act passively, empathically, in resistance. No violence was to be conducted even when provoked. This pact with the people of Parihaka meant that we unified in peace.”

“So what became of Parihaka?” Merekara asked.

Te Whiti blinked, answering slowly and clearly. “The military came upon our settlement and took all the men away as prisoners, destroying the housing, the crops and violating the woman and girls.”

“How can you expect me to follow your lead?” Merekara burst out. “You failed to protect those who followed you.” He looked away, then towards the curved wall where he had come from. There he saw a protruding foot, his foot. Merekara became aware of that he was dreaming. “This is a dream.” He asserted turning back towards Te Whiti. “One which I will end.” Merekara began to walk away from the old man and towards the marble causeway. “Misguided old man.” He mumbled.

“You are my great, great, grandson.” Te Whiti said sternly.

The words stopped Merekara dead in his tracks. He turned back towards the old man. “So what if you are?” He mocked.

“My calculations of the Aranga were wrong, but these seeds of passive resistance needed to be planted. They shall germinate again, but this time, its timing will bring an end to the tyranny that has been unfolding across the planet.” Te Whiti voice had not lost its gusto. He sincerely believed what he was saying.

“Aranga? What does that mean?” Merekara asked hurriedly.

Te Whiti turned towards the east and looked skyward. His stature seemed to rise; his head bobbed slightly acknowledging the darkened sky. “I was misguided in my interpretation of the resurrection.” The old man took lifted his stick and pointed to the horizon where the Orongorongo mountain range seemed to climb towards the void above. “My education in the studies of the Christian Bible lead me along a path that I interpreted as validation for our people and our plight. But it was only after leaving my mortal coil did I understand what the aranga meant.”

Merekara had softened his stance, he turned back to watch Te Whiti gesture towards the mountains.

“Matariki… the eyes of God… their resurrection is the aranga.” Te Whiti turned to Merekara, his black eyes held in them, the twinkling stars that Merekara had seen initially when he had met the old man.

Merekara was still riled, he had every intention of waking himself from his slumber and leaving, but the stars in the old man’s eyes had expanded out of his oculus and he and the surrounding bush and earth had began to dissolve into a pixelated shimmer mesmerising the young man.

“What the f…” Merekara found himself unable to speak. The air passing over his vocal chords made no sound as the entire memorial, and Miramar Peninsula vanished around him. Beneath his feet was the terrifying sight of a void replacing the ground where he had stood. Where Te Whiti had been standing was myriad of blue-white stars silently pulsing their eerie light towards him.

Fear rose sharply, spiking his disillusionment with the dealings with the old man, but this was instantaneously swept aside by a calm female voice that resounded through his body.

“Do not be afraid.” It wasn’t just one voice, it was many, layered upon one another, each female voice entering his heart and following the course of his veins, soothing the tension in his body. “No harm will come to you Merekara.”

Merekara could hear his breathing in his head, its flux suddenly meditative.

“Your planet is in grave peril and at the same time in a powerful transitionary stage.” The words ruminated from Merekara’s heart like rushes of tiny electrical shocks beneath his skin. “The balance is poised delicately. At this time the balance lies with a cabal who would see the transitionary stage void of its end result by enacting a conflict that will decimate not only the population of Earth, but also your planets resources for the survivors of their theatre global war.”

Visions of absolute horror flooded Merekara’s head. He was orbiting the planet, suspended in space, watching plumes of smoke miles wide reaching high into the atmosphere. They rose like vile stalks of trees whose canopies were billowing mushrooms. The initial explosions came from the Middle East, then spread across the surface of the globe as missiles arched over landmasses exploding over cities lit up at night, in haunting infernos coupled with noise of the explosions, their firelight swallowing the sprawling metropolises visible in the sunlight on the other side of the planet. The visions stopped after several smaller explosions rocked the country of Merekara’s birth.

“What you have seen happens in the near future on your planet as a result of an apathetic population of humans, and those who are willing to take up arms against their fellow occupants as an extension of the cabals malevolent presence.”

The islands that made up Aotearoa were suffused in darkness after the explosions. All the lights that had twinkled across the land went out as the power stations all deactivated simultaneously, except a small cluster to the west of the bight of Taranaki.

“It was no mistake the Māori people voyaged to these islands and settled them.” Merekara was hovering over the area where the lights were emanating from. If the rest of the world was in calamitous frenzy, this locale was serenely peaceful. “Their destiny is tied with the rising sun, the dawning of a new day, a new age.” A gigantic wharenui, large enough to house all the residents of the illuminated houses was full of people gathered in silent meditation. “The Māori are to lead the way into this new age of compassion, empathy and love, but not without great challenges.” Merekara passed through its vast roof, sinking down above the crowd. He sped over the masses, people from all races and cultures were gathered here as one. From them came a single resonant pulse of compassion. “Humanity will need their strength when called upon to lead.” Merekara was in the middle of the crowd moving towards a figure, his hair nestled on his shoulders, his broad back moving with his exhalations and inhalations in rhythmical ease. Passing over his shoulder, turning around to face the figure Merekara recognised himself!

“We star-seeded your great great grandfather and the chief Tohu Kakahi with the inspiration for the movement of passive-resistance, believing that it would instigate the necessary wave of non-cooperation with the cabal’s system of control that would spread across the planet and end their reign of power.”

Merekara hung suspended in front of the meditating vision of himself. The lanky conflicted young man was gone, in his place sat a pillar, one of many holding up the wharenui with their integrity towards the cause of compassionate living. The air was so thick with the emotion it was like liquid.

“The timing is impeccable Merekara for you to fulfil the vision of your ancestor.” The voices faded, with them the sensations too and the vision inside of the wharenui. Merekara saw Matariki, its silent radiance calming his mind, then the orongorongo mountain range slowly manifested, the dewy grass beneath his feet sewing together like a seam and Te Whiti himself was standing in front of him shortly after.

The old man smiled at Merekara. “When Matariki rise blazing brightly on the horizon, it will be the day of the aranga.”

“Where was that place I saw? “ Merekara asked quietly.

Te Whiti smiled. “You know that already.” The old man took a step towards Merekara. “Fulfil your destiny. Go there.”

“Parihaka?”

Te Whiti nodded. “Yes.”

^ What shall I do when I get there? How do I go about creating that which I saw?” Merekara asked dumbfounded. “Is the kanga and the cabal one and the same?

“All of that will become manifest, you will know when you arrive there.” Te Whiti raised his hand cupping it around Merekara’s face. “Go well Merekara.”

The old man started to go transparent, his solidity quickly thinning making him an apparition. The last time Merekara saw him he was chuckling to himself as he dissolved into the night air.

Merekara awoke from his sleep, lifting his head blinking wildly at the place where Te Whiti and his dreaming body had been standing. A breeze moved through the bush canopy, shaking the treetops as it moved towards the eastern side of the peninsula.


Kotahitanga (Unity)


It comes as no surprise

I see my reflection in the eyes

Of all races of the human face.


Each one of us is a drop

From an ocean deep and vast

Its current one of love.


Today is the day when knowing

Shall overcome all doubts and fears

So we will always recognize we are ONE.


Parihaka, Western Taranaki, Te Ika a Māui,

North Island of Aotearoa May 2016


The Day of the Aranga


Beneath the pristine beauty of the snow capped volcano Taranaki, Merekara stood amongst the people gathered at this most sacrosanct place. A tapestry of the human family surrounded him as far as he could see. No piece of land was laid bare; the multitude had swelled like a universal heart bursting in love.

He dropped his head, inhaling deeply he closed his eyes visualising his spirit rising up out of his body; encompassing his flock from on high like a radiant cascading shower of light, permeating every soul. This act cemented the words of spirit into all present, adjoining to the whole, creating a bond that was unbreakable.

It had been a long time since he had come to Parihaka. When he returned to talk to Henare of his dream and the consequent requests of Te Whiti and the collective from Matariki the leader of the gang sat astonished in silence. Henare could feel the power of the prophecy, the words laden with mana that made him feel a new turn in his own life was coming. The day would indeed come when Henare would join Merekara at Parihaka, becoming a mentor to the youth who lived at the settlement, guiding young hearts and minds in a way he never had dreamed possible until Merekara had finished speaking.

“You must do this Merekara.” He asserted, a tear rolling down his cheek as he lent forward and gave Merekara a hug. “You must.”

Merekara had arrived at Parihaka and told those living on the settlement of his visitation by his great great grandfather to the bemusement of all present. Detailing what he had seen from a hilltop overlooking the land, its cultivation, the housing, the wharenui, the coming of the people, and of the coming dark days ahead.

“The cost of such an enterprise alone would be beyond our current financial situation,” one of the members of the settlement had said on the hilltop.

Merekara shook his head, empowered by the feeling rising up from the land. “^ All that I have seen will come to be.” He looked around himself at the residents. “If you will join me in creating it.”

The universal agreement concluding with the intention of manifesting the ‘new’ Parihaka took shape when Merekara called for a Hui, first with all the iwi of Taranaki and then the nation to discuss what he had planned.

Merekara grew in stature, in confidence and strength, as he understood his role. He went from a restless young man to a focused, driven, yet patient leader. He listened intently; he applauded his fellow visionaries and was humble at all times.

One by one the iwi collaborated in the plan for a new Parihaka. Merekara gained consent to start to build the homes for the thousands who would come, contacting Michael Reynolds (the creator of Earthships) and his team to come and teach the people at Parihaka to build the self-sufficient homes. Obligingly enthused the team came and together with those present at Parihaka they began to build the first of many Earthships beneath the shadow of the volcano.

The news spread like wildfire and media quickly pounced on the productive nature of the elements involved in the creation of the settlement and their young leader, Merekara.

“We are building a sanctuary for all.” Merekara gleamed at the cameras of the various television networks, most from New Zealand, but others from abroad followed. “It will cost nothing to live here, only your devotion to peaceful, harmonious existence with the planet and each other is necessary.”

When Merekara was asked why the construction was taking place he paused and eloquently said, “We are building a refuge free from tyranny.”

^ What tyranny?” Was the response from the reporter.

Merekara smiled put his hand on reporters shoulder and exhaled slowly. “You are welcome here too.” Then walked away leaving the question to create speculation that needed no answers as the encroaching global police state continued to steal humans personal freedoms under the guise of security.

As the populace began to rise from their apathy and acquiescence to the control system as it became increasingly overt, conflicts began to break out across the planet. Wars created more restrictions on people’s freedoms, shortages of food, regulated travel. Collapsing economies due to greed and corruption by financial institutions owned by banking cartel families who the aranga moved through the strongest gave way to martial law in many countries as they tightened their noose of control by using humans to imprison each other.

People made their way from all over the planet to Parihaka, welcomed by Merekara and the residents there. New homes were built, schools that incorporated the teachings of Rudolf Steiner and Dr Maria Montessori along with the instruction in the skills needed to sustain the land, care for it and respect it. The Māori knowledge of plants and medicine was taught to all, parents and children, men and woman alike as the world outside of Parihaka burnt in the fury of the aranga’s vehement tsunami.

The residents were not blind to the chaos and upheavals taking place across the globe, but they had no place in their lives for the distractions of media, choosing to generate peace by willing action and deed and focus that energy and send it into the world through Metta meditation from the wharenui.

What he had seen at the behest of Matariki, the systematic destruction of most major cities had token place in the year just past. The cabal had hidden themselves away while the world burned, rising from underground cities to round up the survivors, decimating the weak, capturing the shocked, the able bodied and unaffected. The creation of a new world government based in the Australian Capital Territory, concentration camps (most built in the mid 1990’s) where survivors were penned in like sheep before being micro-chipped with Positive ID chips that detailed their entire lives and included a GPS tracking system. Incorporated in the chips was a ‘kill mechanism’ used to kill the host if they were deemed worthless to the needs of the cabal. The most chilling of all was the hidden technology, which had been kept from the public about these chips. Positive ID chips could manipulate the body computer with commands, creating emotional responses making their host a genetic robot if needed.

Merekara now looked over the crowd below bowing his

head and asked in prayer for spirit to move through him. There was a pause then he felt a warm shiver as the spirit of Te Whiti crossed the void of space coalescing with his mortal coil a heartbeat later.

Lifting his head he opened his eyes, and began to walk through the sitting masses of people as he spoke.

"Come to me all of those who have understanding and faith, those who are bent by the wind shall rise again when the wind softens…" He was cut off as a sonic boom split the air like a thunderclap, reverberating a deafening high pitch that stunned all in the valley.

Merekara reached up and covered his ears. All that were present reeled as an eerie ringing filled their heads. People toiled in pain, a few lost consciousnesses as they struggled to regain their balance as they attempted to get to their feet in panic.

Merekara staggered in the wake of the sound, moving through the toiling populace, managing to hold his poise as a platoon of soldiers appeared at the fringes of the settlement. Hundreds more filtered out from the forest that surrounded the road leading into Parihaka. Tanks rolled into the pa crushing crops and orchards in their paths scattering people to and fro. Soldiers began to round up the denizens of the pa. Well disciplined, it was a mere formality now for the hardened robotic regiment of micro-chipped infantry to corral these dissidents.

Merekara took his hands down from his ears, his gaze altruistic and inspiringly stoic. A single figure wearing a light blue beret, dressed in combat fatigues walked towards him his demeanour assured to the point of vindictive.

"I am Field Marshall Hughes, Chief in command of the One World Army." His glance was fixated with a burning hatred for Merekara, his British accent astute.

"You are all under the jurisdiction of the One World Army. You will all fall in immediately and be taken to the Hawera concentration camp to be micro-chipped. Am I understood?"

Merekara stood unmoved, the ringing in his ears becoming a dull ache. He lifted his head looking around at the people who were taking their hands away from their ears patiently waiting for him to speak. Soldiers moved in on the marae hurriedly checking lodgings for hiding people.

In the eyes of the people he saw the very strength that could render the mightiest foe powerless. Love. Merekara became a channel allowing for the love he felt all around him, refracting it like a prism.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!" The Officer bellowed at Merekara, the sound of contempt in his voice rising to a rage fuelled by envy at what he saw. These people trusted him; they believed in him.

"E hore e hekeheke he kākano rangatira, Te Whiti o Rongomai. I will never be lost, for I am the seed of the chief, Te Whiti o Rongomai." Merekara said.

"YOUR VALOUR WILL GET YOU KILLED! " The Officer reached into his holster pulling out his pistol. He pointed it directly in Merekara's face, cocking the hammer back and pushing the safety off.

"Ehara taku toa, taki tahi, he toa taki tini. My valour is not that of the individual but that of the multitude." Merekara said as he looked steadfastly into the eyes of the officer.

Field Marshall Hughes pulled his arm away and swung with the butt of his pistol towards Merekara's head.

Merekara caught his hand inches from his face; the officer struggled to free it as the emblazoned warrior peered deeper into his eyes. Te Whiti’s phrase in Merekara’s dream at the Massey Memorial about where the aranga and the cabal were one in the same force and what appearance they took came back to him in this moment. “All will be manifest when you arrive there.”

Merekara looked into the Officer’s eyes, behind the angry projection was another force, one manipulating the man as though he was a puppet. Gone was the flesh and blood, uniformed man; in his place was an energetic luminosity, with a gigantic humanoid being with dragon countenance standing behind him, it two arms sunk into the energetic lower energetic centres above the coccyx.

“Taniwha.” Merekara whispered looking directly into the eyes of the colossal reptile humanoid. “You live in fear of being discovered, of losing your source of nourishment and losing control over your human cattle.”

The Soldiers all pointed their rifles in Merekara's direction, their fingers poised to pull their triggers.

"It is love that brought us here and it is love that is our domain. We do not live in fear and hatred has no place here." The words were coupled with the inflection of voices from realms of the vibrational state the planet was now entering. The changing of ages was at hand, the aranga’s control was over.

Merekara released the officer’s arm. The man appeared confused, baffled and unsure of what to do. The creature behind him looked rattled, shrinking in size as the dimension it hid in unveiled itself, allowing the surprised masses to see it standing before them.

From Matariki a beam of white gold light punctuated the vacuum of space making its way towards Earth at incredible speed. It pierced the atmosphere its laser beam radiant in the light of day.

It struck Merekara in his base chakra channelling up through his other meridians exploding in his heart chakra enveloping him in a nova. Beams from the Sirius Star System, Andromeda, and Vega joined the Pleiadian envoy. The form of Merekara disappeared into the liquefying exemplar of love incarnate.

The Officer, his Reptilian manipulator and soldiers cowered as the light pervaded them. Some ran away, others stood in awe of the perusing wave that spread like wildfire across the valley. The weapons they were holding disappeared, and the black grip of hatred that suffocated their compassion melted in the brilliance.

The light funnelled up through to Merekara's third eye bursting forth like a laser punctuating Field Marshall Hughes chakra system and through into the Reptile behind. In a blinding flash they succumbed to the loving reverence passing through Merekara. The molecular structure of the Officer and the Taniwha broke down as atoms joined into the pervasive expanse. In a final dazzling combustion their bodies dissolved. The radiant beams conglomeration moved up through Merekara's crown chakra like a fountain, cascading over the country illuminating all the darkest corners and hearts, lucidly consuming third dimensional reality bringing it into higher levels of dimensional existence.

Merekara dropped to his knees as the beam left his body moving south from Parihaka across the sea down towards Te Wai Pounamu.

All trace of the invading force had vanished into the ether when the people of Parihaka rushed towards their prophet, lifting him into a massive embrace that formed a humongous heart that spread across the plains beneath the Taranaki Volcano. Merekara felt their reverence and their devotion to love cascading through him empowering him to listen to the language of the spirit.


Epilogue


During the Harmonic Convergence of 1987, people from all over the planet had congregated at sacred sites reaching out with their hearts in peace. A vortex opened over the oldest part of landmass on the planet's surface, Te Wai Pounamu, the South Island of New Zealand. The vortexes triangular shape extended from the regions of Queenstown, Te Anau and Milford Sound.

At the beginning of every new energetic revolution around Alycone, our planet opens a vortex over a significant point on the electro-magnetic grid that surrounds Earth. Here the old energy of the procession coming to an end flows out as the new is anchored in. The location of this vortex assumes the energetic fingerprint of the age to come. The vortex over this nether region of the South Island of New Zealand, Aotearoa, symbolizes a Goddess energy. Heavily forested, mountainous, lakes and fiords assume that it was to be a return to the Lemurian principle of Eden. On a planet where harmony between all creation would ensue.

The energetic wave instantaneously swept over the whole of third dimensional creation resonating with those already oscillating at higher levels of vibration, quickening their molecular structure in order to deal with higher levels of existence. The paradise they assimilated with was bustling with benevolent beings that had been eagerly awaiting the return of humanity to their rightful place.

Te Whiti's prophecy had come true. The people that had lived at Parihaka had seen beyond the evils of power and greed, desiring higher attainments. They had now inherited them.

Those who had heeded to the aranga of the Taniwha exposed at Parihaka succumbed to the transformation as they were swept up in the tumultuous changes. Their blackened hearts were exposed to infinite love. The treatise of this evolutionary leap was that no one was left behind. All were brought home.

Nestled in Matariki’s conjuncture an old man in a bowler hat stared down at Earth smiling. Another figure walked to Te Whiti’s side and put his arm on Te Whiti’s shoulder. “The day of the aranga.” Tohu Kakahi, another prophet of the first settlement of Parihaka said proudly.

“So it is.” Te Whiti said softly, smiling.


The Day of the Aranga


In the midst of the madness

I will beseech you to listen out

There is a place in the silence

Where truth shall lament to shout

Revealing in all who hear it

That our day is drawing near

When love shall reign supreme

Leaving behind control with fear.


^

Word list of Maori words/phrases



Aranga – resurrection

Ariki – Leader, chief

Hui – congregation, meeting

Iwi – tribe

Kai moana – seafood


Kaitiaki – guardian

Kanga - curse

Karakia – prayers

Koro – grandfather/old man

Papatūānuku – Earth Mother

Matua - father

Matariki – The name has many meanings – two of which are used in

This story, The Eyes of God and The Pleiades

Merekara – miracle

Meremere – short flat weapon made of stone


Pori - people

Rere – flow

Rūnanga – council

Taiaha – long hard wooden stick with a carved end decorated with

Dog’s hair.

Tāne– men

Taniwha – dragon, monster

Te Ika a Māui – the fish of Maui

Te Paki O Matariki – the fine weather of Matariki

Tūpuna – ancestors

Wairua – spirit

Whakapapa – genealogical lineage

Wharenui – meeting house

Wehi – fear



All roads lead to Parihaka Copyright  Pharaeus Lysander 2007






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