Te Kore
On everybody’s mind this week, undoubtedly, has been COVID-19. And while it’s been driving me crazy in my own way (having been quarantined due to the virus being present at my office space), I’ve found this week at home has been productive in stewing ideas for a new book. Unlike my first book, Probably Nothing, this one will be a realistic fiction narrative piece. I’ll share a bit below (it doesn’t give much away), but I’ve been enjoying the process of creating something completely new.
“& remember, / loneliness is still time spent / with the world.”
Te Kore
In the beginning, there was Te Kore.
Te Kore, which is to say there was darkness, which is to say there was love. Love in Mother Earth and Father Sky, whose embrace was so tight no light could touch the world.
Their children were birthed in blackness, in the cramped spaces between elbows and knees, nestled in crooks and crannies that were familiar but faraway. They hated the interminable darkness, and as they grew, the more they craved light and space and air to breathe.
Tūmatauenga, the god of war, suggested they kill their parents, but Tāne, the god of forests and birds, disagreed.
“Let Mother nurture us,” he said, “and let us bathe Father in cosmic light. In the sun and stars and orbit.”
His siblings agreed and each attempted to push their parents apart. They dug their toes in their mother’s skin and pressed their palms against their father, but to no avail. The world remained ostensibly in darkness.
With his siblings exhausted from the strain, Tāne laid on his back and rooted his fingers in the soft earth of his mother before using his legs, strong like tree trunks, to push against his father. The sinews of his legs burst into tulips and roses, and he strained and groaned as he pushed with all his might against the authority of his father.
There was a pop, and there were tears. And there was Te Ao. Light.
I’ve always been intrigued by creation stories, and the Maori creation story has stuck with me since high school. We share the communal space of beginnings and endings, of wondering where and when things start and finish, and if that finish is a permanent sort of thing at all. I’m hoping to explore that theme in my new book, beginnings and ends and love. Love above all else.
Gratitude
This week has been a hard one for gratitude, but there are still things.
Things I’m grateful for:
Good health
Being busy
Normalcy
Things I’m working on:
Being inspired
Seeing beauty in things again
Writing. writing, writing, writing
Memes
(the best part of the week, imo)
