I went to the Spirituality in Cancer Care workshop yesterday with Andrea's Mum Lyn. However I've always called Lyn 'Len' as I thought that was her name. I found out recently that it was because of the NZ accent that I thought her name was Len and have been calling her this for years! I found out that her name was Lyn in email correspondence with the course convenor of the Spirituality workshop. Andrea and Len never corrected me and got quite fond of the name that I had created.
Anyways, the workshop was brilliant. I wish that my family would have been able to go to it. I think they would have gotten a lot from it with Bobute passing away recently.
The second presenter was amazing, he was so compassionate and so great at his approach to palliative care.
One part of his talk was him reading a story from 'Bambi':
The leaves were falling from the great oak at the meadow's edge. They were falling from all the trees.
One branch of the oak reached high above the others and stretched far out over the meadow. Two leaves clung to it's very tip. "It isn't the way it used to be." said one leaf to the other.
"No,"the other leaf answered. "So many of us have fallen off tonight we're almost the only ones left on the branch."
"You never know who's going to go next, "said the first leaf. "Even when it was warm and the sun shone, a storm or a cloudburst would come sometimes, and many leaves were torn off, though they were still very young. You never know who's going to go next."
"The sun hardly shines now," sighed the second leaf, "and when it does, it gives no warmth. We must have warmth again."
"Can it be true," said the first leaf, "can it really be true, that others come to take our places when we're gone and after them still others, and more and more?"
"It really is true," whispered the second leaf. "We can't even begin to imagine it, it's beyond our powers."
"It makes me very sad," added the first leaf. They were very silent a while. Then the first leaf said quietly to itself, "Why must we fall?"
The second leaf asked, "What happens to us when we have fallen?"
"We sink down......." "What is under us?" The first leaf answered, "I don't know. Some say one thing, some another, but nobody knows."
The second leaf asked, "Do we feel anything, do we know anything about ourselves when we're down there?"
The first leaf answered, "Who knows? Not one of all those down there has ever come back to tell us about it."
They were silent again. Then the first leaf said tenderly to the other, "Don't worry so much about it. You're trembling."
"That's nothing," the second leaf answered, I tremble at the least thing now. I don't feel so sure of my hold as I used to."
"Let's not talk any more about such things," said the first leaf.
The other replied, "No, we'll let it be. But-what else shall we talk about?"
It was silent, but went on after a little while, "Which of us will go first?" "There's still plenty of time to worry about that," the other leaf said reassuringly.
"Lets remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the sun came out and shone so warmly that we thought we'd burst with life. Do you remember? And the morning dew and the mild and splendid nights.........?
"Now the nights are dreadful," the second leaf complained, "and there is no end to them."
"We shouldn't complain," said the first leaf gently. "We've outlived many, many others."
"Have I changed much?" asked the second leaf shyly.
"Not in the least," the first leaf said. "You think so only because I've gotten to be so yellow and ugly. But it's different in your case."
"You're fooling me," the second leaf said.
"No, really," the first leaf answered eagerly, "believe me, you're as lovely as the day you were born. Here and there may be a little yellow spot. But it's hardly noticeable and makes you only more beautiful, believe me."
"Thanks," whispered the second leaf, quite touched. I don't believe you, not altogether, but I thank you because you're so kind. You've always been so kind to me. I'm just beginning to understand how kind you are."
"Hush," said the other leaf, and kept silent itself, for it was too troubled to talk any more.
One branch of the oak reached high above the others and stretched far out over the meadow. Two leaves clung to it's very tip. "It isn't the way it used to be." said one leaf to the other.
"No,"the other leaf answered. "So many of us have fallen off tonight we're almost the only ones left on the branch."
"You never know who's going to go next, "said the first leaf. "Even when it was warm and the sun shone, a storm or a cloudburst would come sometimes, and many leaves were torn off, though they were still very young. You never know who's going to go next."
"The sun hardly shines now," sighed the second leaf, "and when it does, it gives no warmth. We must have warmth again."
"Can it be true," said the first leaf, "can it really be true, that others come to take our places when we're gone and after them still others, and more and more?"
"It really is true," whispered the second leaf. "We can't even begin to imagine it, it's beyond our powers."
"It makes me very sad," added the first leaf. They were very silent a while. Then the first leaf said quietly to itself, "Why must we fall?"
The second leaf asked, "What happens to us when we have fallen?"
"We sink down......." "What is under us?" The first leaf answered, "I don't know. Some say one thing, some another, but nobody knows."
The second leaf asked, "Do we feel anything, do we know anything about ourselves when we're down there?"
The first leaf answered, "Who knows? Not one of all those down there has ever come back to tell us about it."
They were silent again. Then the first leaf said tenderly to the other, "Don't worry so much about it. You're trembling."
"That's nothing," the second leaf answered, I tremble at the least thing now. I don't feel so sure of my hold as I used to."
"Let's not talk any more about such things," said the first leaf.
The other replied, "No, we'll let it be. But-what else shall we talk about?"
It was silent, but went on after a little while, "Which of us will go first?" "There's still plenty of time to worry about that," the other leaf said reassuringly.
"Lets remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the sun came out and shone so warmly that we thought we'd burst with life. Do you remember? And the morning dew and the mild and splendid nights.........?
"Now the nights are dreadful," the second leaf complained, "and there is no end to them."
"We shouldn't complain," said the first leaf gently. "We've outlived many, many others."
"Have I changed much?" asked the second leaf shyly.
"Not in the least," the first leaf said. "You think so only because I've gotten to be so yellow and ugly. But it's different in your case."
"You're fooling me," the second leaf said.
"No, really," the first leaf answered eagerly, "believe me, you're as lovely as the day you were born. Here and there may be a little yellow spot. But it's hardly noticeable and makes you only more beautiful, believe me."
"Thanks," whispered the second leaf, quite touched. I don't believe you, not altogether, but I thank you because you're so kind. You've always been so kind to me. I'm just beginning to understand how kind you are."
"Hush," said the other leaf, and kept silent itself, for it was too troubled to talk any more.
We had to all write an letter to the tree from the leaf. Then we handed the letters in and they were randomly handed out to all of us.
The second part of the Bambi story was read to us:
Then they were both silent. Hours passed. A moist wind blew, cold and hostile, through the treetops. "Ah, now," said the second leaf, "I...."
Then it's voice broke off. It was torn from it's place and spun down. Winter had come.
Then we had to write a response back to the leaf from the tree. Finally the pairs of these letters were randomly handed out to us all to read and to talk about. It was such a powerful and invigorating exercise. I felt like I was writing a letter to God.
The Waipuna Hospice is so beautiful, like all of the hospice's that I have seen. At morning tea, I sat in the middle of the grass indulging in my surroundings.
We had many talks given to us in Mauri, we sang many spiritual chants in Mauri and learned about the spiritual needs of the mauri people from a woman of a Mauri father and English mother.
We finished the workshop by being asked to look in to the eyes of the person next to us and say 'I love you.' There were some tears here from different people in the room.
I feel so invigorated from going to this workshop.
And now I want learn Mauri! I continue to be so impressed with how much more harmoniously the Mauri's and the white's live here compared to Australia.
I love that the white people here know so many Mauri songs, words phrases and spiritual practices and that everything here has a English and a Mauri translation.
Oh I forgot to write that yesterday I helped Andrea put together a chicken coop! This girl is amazing, she has put a retaining wall up on her own, a chicken coop, a fence, all self taught.
We also watched the NZ movie 'Dark Horse', the true story of a Mauri man with schizophrenia who became amazing at chess during long stays in the psychiatric ward. All the while, he was brought up in a dangerous gang. He went on to train and bring a local group of struggling kids to the NZ chess championships each year. Amazing.
The houses here as I knew, are much more bang for your buck than in 'Aussie. '
We went out tonight for Andrea's birthday. Starting off at a posh restaurant then making our way in to town.
The night was wild! It was a girls night indeed. Got in trouble with the bouncers, loads of dancing and don't remember buying a single drink. Unsucessfully tried to be a 'wingwoman', to pick up a guy for a friend that turned out to have his wife next to him. And many other wild girls night stories. :p
The night was everything that it should have been. Poor Andy has been vomiting all morning. I feel surprisingly okay, but its 11am and I'm just getting out of bed. Time to cook some hash browns for everyone!
Kia Ora xo
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