Iona Winter

For a while I’ve been thinking about the ways I connect, and the risk I take in being unapologetically myself.

It has become increasingly distressing to see how people treat one another, particularly online — despite the ‘be kind’ messages that are trotted out. Every day I observe divisive and hateful energy directed towards people who might simply have a different opinion. It truly saddens me when people I respect and admire, engage in this behaviour.

Last week I was introduced to the Greek word/concept ‘Sparagmos’. Initially I thought it applied to how torn apart I am, with this unwieldy grief and recent surgeries. Then I decided it’s about what we are doing, in the often-conscious acts of tearing one another apart. How on earth can we come together, if we continue to do that? This is obviously a rhetorical question.

It took me all of a day to decide to remove myself from most social media platforms, and the relief was instantaneous.

I say this because there is zero space in my life for hate speech, division, or marginalisation. And also because I fought hard for Reuben (less so for myself) all of his life. The hatred and envy directed towards him was at times phenomenal and affected him deeply — as did the abuse (those people know who they are).

While these are things I cannot forget, somehow I manage to stand on the whenua and come from a heart-centred place. I know intimately how difficult life can be (now and prior to Reuben’s death). Yet his absence has made me crucially aware of what’s really important. And that is AROHA.

I’m thankful beyond words to have received the 2021 Verb Katherine Mansfield House and Garden Writer’s Residency. Even more so, because the selection panel didn’t shy away from the subject matter of suicide bereavement, my age, or the fact that I’m not a famous author. In my non-writer-residency life I don’t have a space to write, or my own home (or even a flat that I can afford to live in anymore), no ‘regular’ job, or savings, or any kind of investment. BUT what I do have is the opportunity to be another version of a phoenix, rising from the worst type of ashes any mother can imagine.

So I ask, will you consciously choose to engage in tearing people apart? Or would you rather come from a place of unconditional love?

I will always choose the later, over a defensive, hostile and painful position. Although I figure that if anyone has the choice to exist in such a dark place it’s me — this time last year I brought my only child home in a box. Yet I’m choosing to stand in aroha, above anything else, and invite you to join me there.