Restoring the heart

MASSIVE MOANA SPOILERS WITHIN

Moana is one of my favourite myth stories. This healing narrative has become the primary framework I use to understand and engage with ecological, cultural and individual sickness.

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

In a nutshell, a demi-god by the name of Maui steals the heart of Te Fiti (it might help to understand her as Mother Earth) and slowly but surely, the earth (and specifically Moana’s island home of Motonui) becomes concerningly barren. Coconuts ready for harvest turn out to be rotting inside, the flowers on the island are dying, and there are no fish to be found in the surrounding ocean. Moana decides to sail across the ocean, find Maui and urge him to return the heart of Te Fiti in order to restore the lands to their former abundance.
*Insert long and amusing adventure.*
Finally Moana and Maui arrive at their destination, but before they can make it to Te Fiti, they are faced with the raging lava monster named Te Kā. Angry and vicious, Te Kā defends the area from the perceived threat of Moana and Maui. When Moana finally makes it to Te Fiti’s Island, she realises that Te Fiti is missing. All that lies before her is a gaping hole. She turns her head back to Te Kā, confused… and quickly realises that all is not what she thought it was. Te Kā isn’t protecting Te Fiti. Te Kā is Te Fiti. Or rather - Te Kā is what Te Fiti becomes when her vital life force - her heart, is taken from her. Long story-short…the heart is returned and Te Fiti transforms back into her lush, generative self - laced in flowers and glowing with vitality.

I first came across this myth as I was journeying through my dark night of the soul. Completely exhausted - I couldn’t muster the energy to work or socialise or to do much else. My batteries ran out and nothing seemed to charge them up again. I looked into many diagnoses to try and make sense of it all - chronic fatigue, low iron, adrenal fatigue etc. None of them seemed to carry any sensitivity to my individual story and circumstances though, and weren’t much more than labels. These diagnoses also neglected to take into account the world and particular culture in which I lived, and how this might impact my life force and vitality.

I felt as though part of my heart had been lost, and I wanted to know where it went. With a friend’s help, I opted to call my recovery ‘Restoring The Heart’ as an ode to this favourite myth of mine.

Over the course of many years, I got in touch with my primal body and began to learn from her what was missing from my life and from our culture, that was subsequently affecting my well-being. And to identify what was taking up the space where this healing rhythm of life could have been. We’ve shifted things around in our family, rejigged our priorities and daily rhythms, and even lived in a tent one summer to recalibrate our lives to be more in sync with (our) nature. The path to illness was intricate and the path to wellness was much the same. There wasn’t one clear fix, but a series of readjustments.

Much of the writing I do here is re-examining the ideologies, structures and habits that distract us, and deprive us of the essential ingredients needed by our innately regenerative ecosystems in order to support our centropic nature. We are naturally geared towards healing and a functional order of things. When illness of any kind arises, we can ask ourselves, what is missing here? And what is taking up space where it could be?

Sometimes the changes needed are simple. Far simpler than we care to admit.
We have this implement in our kitchen - a plastic container with blades inside. You put your vegetables in it and pull the cord, and out they come perfectly chopped. It’s especially awesome for avoiding onion eyes, but I do often sense that I’m missing a very basic and imperative connection with the earth’s medicine, which is simply for my skin to touch that which grows from the ground. So many of us are buying our produce from the supermarket. Cleaned of all soil, sometimes pre-chopped and placed in plastic bags, we never come into contact with them for long.

I wonder how much healing there is in sitting on the back porch shelling peas, developing light green tinges on our fingers. I think there’s much more going on in this ritual than we might even realise. Peace, rhythm, connection, stillness…

I wonder how much of our cyclical dysfunction could be remedied with more time under the glow of the moon.

I wonder how the sound of a flowing river nearby could steady our nervous systems.

I wonder what it does to us to rarely be caught in the rain.

I wonder what price we pay for harvesting large amounts of the earth’s crystals to support our personal version of abundance.

I wonder what waking to our body clocks rather than an alarm, can bring us.

I wonder how much of our insular and individualised lifestyles are keeping us from the therapeutic nature of being witnessed and being witness. In our joy, our sorrow, our quirks and our frustration.

I wonder what true healing there is in beating a drum in a song circle, rather than always hearing music through speakers and headphones.

I wonder how much the convenience of shoes and cars, air conditioners and internet, vegetable choppers and pre-washed potatoes, are truly affecting us. I wonder what everyday medicine we’re missing out on with all of this ‘comfort.’

Everything seems so complicated. The list of diseases is unfathomably long and complex. But I wonder if the answers aren’t always so complicated. If there are basic vital necessities for which we are collectively deficient. Human touch, soil, sunshine, moonlight, laughter, rhythm, clean water, exertion, passion, friendship, music, rest, dance, colour, fresh air, creativity, natural food…

Have you ever wondered what healing properties there are in picking your own flowers rather than buying them from a store?
In chopping vegetables by hand.
In catching your own rainwater.
In chopping your own wood.
In making your own music (even just quiet humming).
In kneading your own dough.
In laying in a hammock for hours on a warm spring day.
In dancing in sync with a tribe.
In washing dishes by hand.
In receiving actual kisses rather than digital x’s.

Much of this would be easier in a culture that doesn’t prioritise busy-ness and hyper-individualism. Where we’re not cramming to fit everything in.

The ultimate tent-life shower experience.

What core elements are at the heart of our earthly human existence?
And where are we losing touch with them?

How much can we transform our personal and cultural lava monsters by restoring some essential rituals and rhythms of good and robust living? And by taking from the earth only what we need. What cultures and generations can we draw from? What conveniences are keeping us from our rawest connection to all that is good and therapeutic?

There is much room to play and experiment. So many invitations to respond to our primal needs. To join a choir. To take up moon bathing. To have jam sessions with friends. To move into a tent for the summer. To grow our own food. To befriend our sweat. To rig up a hammock. To make a point of getting drenched in a downpour every now and then. To eat with our hands. To cook with fire. To commit to silliness and laughter. To kisses goodnight.

To critically examine where we are unnecessarily giving our energy.
And devote ourselves to full bodied, fully human living.

This requires a dramatic upheaval of modern cultural norms and customs. But I sense us all moving in this direction. I don’t know too many people who aren’t being called into a generative, communal, colourful and restful new way of being. The tides are changing and the people are rewilding themselves. It’s a true movement, and already structures are crumbling that no longer serve the collective. New paths are being forged. Old paths are being cleared. You can hear the echoes of a chorus of untamed ancestors calling us towards the fullness of life. Beyond the five day work week, debt, perpetual purchasing, manicured lawns, resort holidays, over-medicalisation, the online world and chronic indoors-ism. The wild is calling to us and the call is coming from inside the house.

We’re rewilding, and restoring our hearts and the heart of humanity.
We’re doing it tired. We’re doing it wounded. We’re doing it scared.
But we’re doing it together.

Life has beautiful things in store for us.
And we have the same for it.

x
Lysette