Hope lives here

"Ahakoa ūhi te tai, ka whakaea anō te toka a Tirikawa,"

Despite the waves that seem to overcome, Tirikawa reemerges.

Like many of our inherent values, the true power of hope has been diminished, our memory of its practice fading by the day from society. Generations of systemic oppression has reduced hope to a mere expression of ‘wishful thinking’ or ‘blind optimism’, that things will ‘work themselves out, eventually’.

The grounding truth we must vigilantly protect is that hope serves as an anchor for the soul, a source of power within us that enables us to persevere through adversity. 

Hope is a verb. It must be practiced regularly to take effect.

In 2024 we wove Te Manako Nui as a tangible, tactile expression of our belief that with hope, we can envision a better future. We hold steadfast to this idea while also allowing for our understanding of hope to evolve, as we have, and we'd like to share some of our thoughts with you.

Over the last few months it seemed as if no matter which way you looked, conflict, devastation, or hostility had taken over. Intense rainfall and flooding, once firm and sturdy ground deteriorated under intense pressure right before our eyes. Tyrannical jousts and political posturing abroad and at home while many of our loved ones and communities suffer under the weight of trying to make ends meet. One after the other, relentless waves crashed, compounding on top of the other, over and over again..

We felt like we'd been treading water non-stop, reprieve within sight! Only for another wave to crash and push us under again, forcing us to hold our breath a little longer. Our capacity to bear the many weights and responsibilities of our world has surprised us at times, but even that is finite and needs to be replenished regularly. The constant vigilance and intensity of the last few months has made it seem as if hope had abandoned us. Somewhere far away, if not lost. Is this our new normal?

To be hopeless? To give into despair?

Contemplating this felt like a surrender to hopelessness, but coincidentally it reminded us that we are here because someone before us refused to give up.

Our tūpuna endured waves of upheaval, they crossed oceans of uncertainty, dispossesion, suppression and systemic inequities that still echo today. They navigated epidemics, warfare, economic exclusion, and policies designed to erode identity. And yet, we are here.

Shaped by people who endured, adapted, crossed oceans, built and rebuilt after loss, worked tirelessly, held families together, challenged injustice, and made deliberate choices so that we could stand where we stand.

Hope is not a resource we have or don’t have. We are never without hope! Rather, we are hope. It is a fundamental thread that makes up the fabric of who we are, and though there may be moments that distract us from this truth, hope is always within us.

Hope is the seed and it is also the fertile earth, the sun and the water required for it to grow. Just as we are the catalyst, supporter, advocator, amplifier and embodiment of the change we wish to see. We've been reminded of the small, incremental steps we can take to foster what burns within us, that it might not only keep us warm but radiate outward and light the way for our communities.

Whether woven into blankets, adorned upon our bodies, or daily meditations to recite quietly, deliberate practices to foster hope, courage and compassion affirm that which already exists within us. We can observe it in our natural world, amplify it from our ancient teachings and histories, and we can embody it in small acts, every day.

We are the living embodiment to prayers, spoken long before we were born. We are the fulfilment of intention and perseverance. We are the continuation of vision, of belief, of hope.