Anton Spelman shares some of the questions he faced in deciding to move home and settle in a new region of Aotearoa.

On May 23, 2022 I was given the keys to my new home in Ōtaki. I have begun the start of a new life following the death of my wife Ruth after 43 years of marriage and 28 years of living in Tāmaki Makaurau. When mourning the death of a loved one, it is very difficult to identify when the experience of loss begins to subside, making way for earlier feelings to re-emerge, a sign of resilience and a readiness to continue with life.

It was only at Christmas 2021 that my daughter and son-in-law put it to me that I should relocate to Ōtaki to live nearer to them.

At the time it seemed a novel if somewhat random thought. It was also unsettling. Was I not doing as well as people had said? Why would I go to live in Ōtaki when I know no one there besides immediate family? Do they know something about my future that is hidden from my eyes?

Reaching the Decision to Move

One day I wrote down all the things that I do as a retired person of 71 years. There were a lot of items on that list in no order of importance. Then I considered each project and identified whether it was important and could only be done by me, important but could be done by others or not important. After some agonising I accepted that most of what I do is important but it could be done by others. My wife had tried to tell me this on many occasions over the years but to no avail; the perfectionist in me is very strong.

Friends and family were universally in support of a move to Ōtaki. Only I seemed to be unsure. But the more I thought about it the more strongly I came to think that I had probably finished my work in Auckland and that it was now time to put the boat out to sea one more time.

How I Live Here Matters

Now I am in Ōtaki, living next door to my daughter and son-in-law and my two-year-old mokopuna. I ask myself: “What now? I’m certain that it’s right to be here but unclear about where that takes me next.

Thinking About Context

As I ponder these matters, I am reminded that the key to understanding anything always begins with a consideration of context, i.e. thoughts, feelings and approaches that we bring to situations we find ourselves in and to decision-making. I was brought up to value highly the uniqueness of each person. While it was core thinking in a Western worldview, I had another worldview as well, Te Ao Māori. In my early days it was not as widespread as it is today.

Currently, I see many worthwhile initiatives in place to support cultural development, Treaty relationships development and change at a personal and community level. I have worked in all these areas since the late 1980s and I believe that we are more than ready to build on the goodwill developed thus far and engage the constitutional conversation about our governance arrangements from a foundational Tiriti relationships perspective.

A constitutional conversation would open up new ways to manage our common life together and would improve our efforts to implement environmental justice. The scoping of that conversation is complex, not because of the legal ramifications of change in the way we make laws and the laws themselves, but because our experience of dealing with cultural difference is still at an early stage of development. If we compare how we learn and acquire knowledge from a Western worldview and the same process in Te Ao Māori, it will give some idea of the problem facing us.

A strong theme in relation to knowledge acquisition from a Western worldview perspective is that if we wish to know about something, we put a fence around it and focus mainly on that segment.

For example, until recently we thought we could control the environment and that we had every right to do so. The Western values underpinning this position relate to the perceived autonomy of the individual. But the climate change crisis shows how limiting this position is.

However, Te Ao Māori holds that identity is best understood in relation to the group. When seeking to acquire knowledge in Te Ao Māori, we locate ourselves firstly within the whole and then we explore particular matters of interest but always in relation to the whole.

Both worldviews emphasise context before analysis. A Western worldview approaches the subject of knowledge by separating it from its context whereas Te Ao Māori insists that context remains present and connected to the way knowledge is understood and communicated.

In the Western tradition, knowledge is expressed propositionally and supported by a culture of individualism. In Te Ao Māori, knowledge is expressed relationally and supported by a culture of collectivism.

Honour Integrity of Both Worldviews

I am a collectivist by nature. I was brought up with a hybrid mix of both worldviews and as I sort out the question about what I am supposed to be doing in Ōtaki, I remind myself that the two worldviews under discussion are equally valid and of equal value. When we honour the integrity of both worldviews in this way, we unlock energy for the rigours of change management that await us.

There are significant benefits in taking this course of action. These relate to reconciliation but extend beyond, to reveal new ways of living together in communities and with the natural world.

This will help us in a recovery of mana and a renewal of our common life. It will be sustained because, by consensus, we will have altered the values base and the way we articulate our values. We will ensure that there is a place at the table for everyone.

Becoming More Collectivist

At a personal level I have a strong desire to be authentic as I manage changes that I need to make. I’m focusing on developing an ability to express my collectivist self and transform the individualism I have grown up with. I would also like to see that my children and wider whānau are equipped to address their own development needs in this area.

And there is a spiritual oneness

that could flow from it. For Christians to acknowledge the wairua from Te Ao Māori would be a significant advance in our understanding of what the body of Christ looks like in Aotearoa.

As I move around Ōtaki in collectivist mode, I find myself less interested in gathering information about things. Instead, I practise opening myself up to the influence of the people I meet. And as I become aware of interconnections that otherwise might pass me by, I am surprised at how liberating this is even though I don’t know the detailed interconnectedness of life around me, especially those connections I cannot see.

But more importantly, I feel more grounded as a person in relation to who I am. This is what I am supposed to be doing in Ōtaki so I am happy to report — so far so good.

Tui Motu Magazine. Issue 275 October 2022: 6-7