Kristine, host of the ‘Learn to Knit’ workshop at the Retreat, writes,

Good yarn is something New Zealand is known for – both for the massive amount of sheep and the classic kiwi term for a good chat. I learned the magic of good yarn when I started knitting 7 years ago. In the midst of a down-trending mental health crisis, I looked up into my bedroom closet and spotted an old box of yarn and knitting needles.

It was a relic from one of the many times my grandmother had tried to teach and inspire me years prior.

I didn’t know what to do with myself, my life, or the growing existential dread, but I decided I could probably learn how to knit. I pulled out a santa-red yarn and a set of needles, brought up an online tutorial, and I started.

The first thing I knit was just that: a thing I knit. It was full of holes and was wonky-shaped (a bookmark as many first projects have been lovingly called in the retreat workshops), but it unknowingly introduced me to a mental health tool that would slowly help heal and change my life.

Over the last year, introducing the Learn to Knit workshop at the retreat has led to countless wholesome yarns. I wasn’t anticipating how much knitting would be a thread through peoples’ lives, how many people connected to their families and ancestors through picking up some yarn and a pair of needles again. Other brave beginners encountered the often distressing act of learning a new skill as an adult, going through the journey of feeling like a failure to realising they’ve successfully knit their first row. Not everyone connected with it, some surrendering their needles with a smile on their face for having tried, others joking that their attempts contributed to rather than helped their mental health.

Every single guest’s journey was different, with some even being disappointed the better they got at it, preferring the individuality of their misshapen, hole-ridden original to their gradually improving copies.

At times I didn’t know how to help when people got triggered by struggling to learn a new skill, but I always tried to bring people back to three central knitting philosophies that has made it so transformational in my own life:

1. Knitting is a journey, not a destination
2. Every single project is created one stitch at a time
3. Unravelling is always an option

These philosophies transformed the workshop from an intimidating task that must be done in a certain way, to a process and space we could all enjoy.

It turns out, the workshops haven’t really been about the yarn, but how much the activity brings people together to hold space for something new to connect with. Much like the knitting journey, the rows we knit were simply a happy outcome to an otherwise much more important process.

Seven years on, I still knit almost every day and it’s my go to activity when I need to rest or find my centre again. I feel so lucky to have been able to share my love of knitting with so many guests that have come through our gates—sharing the magic of some good yarn and starting on a new knitting journey together, one stitch at a time.

Lately, I have been having a lot of conversations around connection and authentic, in-person, type connection, with the desire for belonging, togetherness, community, people to do life with often being voiced.

I think for many of us, there have been seasons of feeling lonely, disconnected, on the outside. I know I have had times of wondering where I fit, if I fit, how to fit and had a fair ol’ journey in search for belonging and for a long time wanted to feel a sense of community, to feel a part of something.

Thankfully I got to experience what a difference it makes when that begins to change.

When you find yourself in spaces where you can exhale and slow down, where you can take the masks off, where conversation flows easily, where people are open, warm and real, where you belong just as you are.

Belonging is such a beautiful feeling and I love it when people start finding it for themselves. It’s not just a nice-to-have, it is one of the most basic needs we have, to feel included, to feel seen, to matter.

In a world that can feel fast, disconnected and heavily lived online, I keep coming back to the gold in real-life gathering – to the simple nourishment of body, heart, soul, mind and spirit. Food, conversation, slowing down, sharing stories, fully listening, being present, laughing, finding commonalities, shared passions, interests. Togetherness.

To me, this is how community is nurtured, through the small, meaningful moments that stitch by stitch weave that golden thread. Gatherings like this can also help make communities stronger. When people know each other, when they have shared space, shared stories, shared meals, something shifts. Trust begins to grow. Familiarity grows. Care grows. Resilience grows. The fabric of community becomes stronger because people are no longer just living near one another, they are beginning to know one another.

That is the heart behind Long Table Dinners, an invitation back to conversation, to belonging to the sitting around a table and remembering what it feels like to be human together.

If you’ve been wanting more real-life connection in your world, this is for you! And if you’re in a position to give a little more, there’ll also be an option to pay a spot forward for someone else in the community.

Come join us as we share a meal and begin weaving a golden thread of connection through our community.

Get your ticket here

Tēnā koutou e ngā whānau o Taranaki Retreat/Waimānako.

E mihi ana ki te mana o te wairua e rere nei i roto i tō tātou kaupapa.

Puanga and Matariki are drawing near once again, a sacred time of remembrance, reflection, preparation, and renewal. Here in Taranaki, many of our iwi observe Puanga as the key celestial marker of the Māori New Year.

Many iwi throughout the west and north of Aotearoa along with some parts of Te Waipounamu, also look to Puanga as the key celestial marker of the new year.

Puanga, known in Western astronomy as Rigel, is one of the brightest stars in the Orion constellation, sitting near Tautoru, also known as Orion’s Belt. In Aotearoa, Puanga rises around a week before Matariki, making it a more visible and prominent marker for many iwi.

There are many kōrero and understandings behind why some iwi follow Puanga.

One understanding speaks to how mātauranga Māori travelled across Te Moananui a Kiwa, adapting to the environments our tūpuna settled within. In places such as Rarotonga, Tahiti, Rapa Nui, and Hawai‘i, Matariki rises before Puanga. Here in Aotearoa however, Puanga rises earlier, becoming the whetū many communities looked toward to signal the beginning of the new year.

Geography also plays a significant role. Many iwi who observe Puanga live in areas where the eastern horizon can be obscured by maunga, ngahere, mist, or coastal weather systems. In places such as Taranaki, the eastern horizon where Matariki rises is not always clearly visible. Matariki itself is a delicate cluster of stars, subtle and faint in appearance, while Puanga is one of the brightest stars in the night sky and far easier to identify in poor visibility or through winter fog.

The Matariki public holiday this year will be observed on Friday the 10th of July, during the Tangaroa phases of the maramataka, a time traditionally associated with abundance, reflection, gathering, and deep connection to the taiao.

Next month in Part 2 of this Puanga Series, I will be sharing mātauranga around the various ceremonies and tikanga associated with Puanga and Matariki, and some of the deeper meanings behind this sacred time of the year.

We are also currently in the midst of planning a community gathering here at Waimānako that will include the sharing of warm nourishing kai, acknowledging our tini mate – the many loved ones who have passed over the last year and creating space for those who come into Waimānako to take part in intention setting and the painting of mauri stones as we move into the Māori New Year together.

‘Ko Puanga te Whetū Ārahi o te Tau Hou’
Puanga, the guiding star that leads us into the new year.

Ngā Manaakitanga kia koutou

At the end of winter, we put the puffer jackets away, spot ducklings in the rivers, and breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that soon we’ll have warmer days. Spring brings its ‘new life’ and bright colours, then all of a sudden, summer is upon us. We try to head to the beach for a swim after work and we enjoy eating dinner later in the evening! We have barbecues and eat outside until the mosquitos decide that it’s time for their dinner.

Then we blink, and autumn is here.

Autumn is my favourite season. I like stomping on the dry leaves scattered across the footpath – it makes me feel like I’m a kid again. I like how the air gets more brisk each morning, and how I have an excuse to switch to my winter duvet.

I wasn’t built for scorching summer days or the dampness of winter. While spring evokes a feeling of hope, autumn brings an impending sense of doom – the clocks will change, and eating meals outside will be a faint memory.

All the beauty of autumn becomes overshadowed by the idea of winter. Autumn is the prelude to winter.

To me, winter equals sadness. It’s the most expensive season of the year, and with that, it brings isolation and exhaustion. It’s a lot of slipping around in mud and getting my clothes dirty. Winter is frosted windscreens and freezing hands on my drive to work. It’s tossing up between wearing jeans and being warm, or wearing jeans that get drenched during the dash from the car to the office (and consequently, being cold).

This year will be different. I’m determined to change my attitude towards this dreaded season. I’m prepared.

I’ve come up with a simple strategy to get through my winter blues. I’m going to focus on these three things:

1. Spending time outdoors.

I love going for walks after work, but when winter rolls around each year, I become a hermit. Once I get home, home is where I’ll stay. This year, I’m going to encourage myself to go outside. Maybe the rain will clear at lunchtime, and I can spend 10 minutes outside appreciating how green everything is! Maybe I’ll go for a wet-weather walk without a raincoat, admitting defeat and embracing the freezing droplets of water as they cascade down my skin. Maybe I’ll go for more sheltered walks – or have a dedicated pair of walking shoes for the muddy tracks (my current shoes are white, and I’d like them to stay that way). I always feel better after spending time in nature, so this is at the top of my list!

2. Keeping on top of my health.

It’s almost impossible to avoid a cold during winter – but I’m going to be as prepared as I can. I’ll keep some Berocca in my tote-bag for those mornings when I wake up with a sore throat (my bedroom can get very cold). I’m going to try to get at least 8 hours of sleep each night, and I’ll fill my body with nutritious kai (lots of garlic & ginger)!

3. Staying connected to friends and whānau.

I mentioned earlier that I like to be a hermit. It’s so easy to just snuggle up in bed, or next to the fireplace – reading a good book or watching a TV show. It takes so much more effort to get out of the house and spend time with friends. I’m going to try to have two ‘events’ per week. One might be having dinner with my parents and then playing a board game. Another might be grabbing coffee with a friend, or inviting them over for a cuppa. I might spend some time dreading it, but I know that I’ll enjoy spending quality time with my loved ones.

I’ve also been attempting to practice gratitude, especially when I’m feeling down. I’ve come up with a list of things I love about winter, something I’ll refer back to when I’m having a bad day.

I love:

• Curling up by the fire.
• Snow on te maunga.
• Roast Dinners.
• Frost on the grass.
• Trips to the laundromat.
• An excuse to stay indoors and watch movies all day, or play board games or video games, or do a puzzle.
• Baking and hot lunches.
• Picking up new indoor hobbies; making friendship bracelets, knitting, or learning how to play an instrument with YouTube videos.

Armed with positive thoughts and great intentions, I think I’m ready to tackle this next season. We’ve already been blessed with an abnormal amount of sunshine this May; perhaps June will follow suit. Regardless, I’m going to dust off my puffer jacket, find my woollen blanket and do my best to stay positive!

I am having many conversations about what is going on in the world currently, with the focus of the conversations being what is beyond our control and what is in our control. Focusing on what is beyond our control, which is usually where our attention goes (we are wired that way), can take a lot of energy, time, emotions and more.

This piece is not going to be about what you should feel or shouldn’t be feeling right now about what is beyond our control, everyone’s journey is different.

But I do encourage you to feel what you need to. Allow the grief to come, release the anger in ways that work for you, move through the feelings of stuckness to give yourself space to breathe again.

Reset.

Focus once more on what you can control. How much we engage with the news, what we read or watch, how often, who to talk to about it.

And we are also able to control how we show up, how we engage with others around us, how we look after ourselves, who we spend time with, how often we make self-care happen, time offline, creative time, time in community, compassion, gratitude, rest – true rest. Total body, heart, soul, mind, spirit rest.

And when we are focusing on what we can control, that is when joy gets to land. The sunset, the random child waving, the laughter, the impromptu yes to life, a cuppa outside on a crisp morning, a walk in the rain.

When we focus on what we can control, when we are saying yes to life in whatever ways that work for us, not only are we topping up the tanks, but we are fuelling our light so it continues to shine out to the world as a beacon of hope.

Te Whare Tapa Whā

This kaupapa is guided by the teachings of Sir Mason Durie and the model of Te Whare Tapa Whā. In this understanding of hauora, wellbeing is like a whare supported by four pou. Each pou represents a dimension of life that must stand strong for the whole person and the whole whānau to flourish.

Across our sites and services, each space offers holistic care while holding a particular focus.

Waimanako is our gathering space for taha whānau, where relationships are strengthened and belonging is restored.
Waimanaaki is our outreach service for taha tinana, bringing nourishment and practical wellbeing support to whānau where it is needed most.
Waihāpai supports taha hinengaro through warm and steady one on one and small rōpū support.
Taranaki Retreat holds taha wairua through the Residential Support Space and Whare Tāpu, where stillness, karakia and reconnection with te taiao support restoration.

Together these pou work as one whare, each strengthening the other so that whānau can move toward balance, safety and collective oranga.

The First Pou — Taha Whānau

Waimanako sits like a pātaka of belonging, its doors open to all who arrive. Cups of tea cross the same table where laughter and tears sit together, as they always do when people are truly present with one another.

Whanaungatanga moves easily here in the warm greeting, the space made at the table, and the quiet understanding that no one has to face life alone. Support grows naturally in this place through shared stories, through kindness, and through the simple act of showing up for one another.

Waimanako is a gathering space where connections are formed, dignity is restored, and the strength of community becomes visible in everyday acts of manaakitanga.

The Second Pou — Taha Wairua

There are places where stillness settles naturally into the body. The Residential Support Space, with the Whare Tāpu at its heart at Taranaki Retreat, rests in one of those places.

Here the rhythms of karakia, reflection and quiet presence allow wairua to settle. Those who arrive carrying the weight of loss, trauma or disconnection are welcomed into a space where spiritual wellbeing is recognised as essential to healing.

Through time, stillness and connection with te taiao, people rediscover breath, presence and the gentle return of inner balance.

The Third Pou — Taha Tinana

The body carries everything. Grief settles in the shoulders. Fear sits quietly in the chest. The long exhaustion of survival can live deep in the bones.

Waimanaaki moves through the community bringing nourishment, practical support and care for the physical wellbeing of whānau. Warm meals, health checks and everyday acts of assistance honour the truth that the body must be sustained before anything else can begin to heal.

When tinana is nourished the mauri begins to lift. Energy returns. Strength grows. Hope begins to speak again.

The Fourth Pou — Taha Hinengaro

Some burdens are carried so long they settle quietly into the mind. Grief. Loneliness. Thoughts that circle in the dark hours with no place to land.

Waihāpai provides a warm and supportive space where kōrero can unfold safely. Through one on one support and small rōpū gatherings, people are able to speak what has long been held in silence.

Here the hinengaro is met with patience and compassion. Healing is not rushed. Instead it moves gently, step by step, as people rediscover their own strength and clarity.

Whenua

All of this work is deeply rooted in the whenua and the histories of the places where this kaupapa lives.

Waimanako stands beside the Huatoki Stream within the rohe of Ngāti Tūparikino, Ngāti Tawhirikura and Ngāti Te Whiti hapū of Te Ātiawa. These waters have long been part of the life of the people of this rohe, carrying the stories and footsteps of generations who gathered here before.

Waihāpai also sits within the rohe of Ngāti Tūparikino, between two ancestral waters, the Waiwhakaiho and the Henui. These rivers have shaped the life of this place for generations, carrying stories, sustenance and memory across time. Dr Hurangi Waikerepuru spoke of the Waiwhakaiho as the umbilical cord that connects tangata to whenua, sacred waters gifted from the heavens that continue to nourish the land and the people.

The Residential Support Space and Whare Tāpu at Taranaki Retreat stand on the whenua of Ngā Mahanga hapū of Taranaki Iwi. This land carries deep memory and continues to hold those who arrive seeking stillness and restoration.

Waimanaaki moves throughout the rohe of Te Ātiawa, travelling where nourishment and practical support are needed most. In doing so it passes through places that hold deep cultural and historical significance, many of them wāhi tapu where the footsteps of tūpuna remain present in the landscape.

Across all of these places the relationship with whenua remains central. The land holds memory. The rivers carry life. The people continue the work of care.

When the whenua is honoured, the people are strengthened. And when the people are supported, the whare of wellbeing stands strong.

‘Ko te whenua te pūtake, ko ngā pou te oranga’

‘The land is the foundation, the pillars are wellbeing’.

Out of the many services we now offer at Taranaki Retreat, we are perhaps best known for our residential stays. The offer of some time out in a beautiful setting where self-care is easy to do and encouraged, is the backbone of our work.

We have learned so very much through working with our Guests – hence our growth into other areas, such as outreach and the listening ears cafe – and it is fair to say that our learnings are crystallised in what we offer at the Retreat. Our Guests who come for a stay are offered a space in our lodge, surrounded by beautiful grounds, with visiting cats, a dog to pat, chickens to feed, home-cooked dinner every night, and food in the lodge for during the day. We offer a variety of workshops, from making your own essential oils and trying out mindfulness, to a grief workshop or life coaching sessions. We know there isn’t a one-size-fits-all formula that works for everyone. But equally we know what can help. Choice and easy availability are key – a smorgasbord of positive options! Guests get to choose what they feel might be helpful and are encouraged to give things a go. Our site kaiāwhina have their own lived experience and are kind and non-judgemental. Guests also get to share one-on-one with their support worker and perhaps begin to process some of what they’re going through. We know a Retreat stay isn’t a silver bullet – it doesn’t fix things – yet time and again we have seen our short, yet loving, stays offer real hope to our Guests – and hope is the key to moving from despair to looking at life’s possibilities.

Our Retreat stays are an amazing expression of community. Most of the workshops we offer are run by volunteers who care enough to give up their time for others. Most of our support workers are volunteers who give up their time to meet and be alongside someone they’ve never met before. Everywhere you look on site there is evidence of the people giving back; donations of baking, the beautiful grounds maintained by the site team and volunteers, the chapel built by individual $40 donations, our Care Centre built from donations of time and money.

We are so proud of the Retreat and that is a shared ‘we’ – it is not down to a few individuals but something that the community that supports us should extremely proud of. Here is some feedback from a residential Guest that gives a glimpse into what we are achieving in our beautiful corner of Taranaki:

“I have came along way today than when I first arrived. I have soaked in so much great opportunities that it filled all my missing gaps I been longing for. I can’t believe that everything I hoped for to support me has actually happened and Words are not enough to show just how thankful I am. Thank you everyone for your support and aroha”

I’ve been having a fair few conversations recently about this time of year, what it means to different people, what can come up and how it can bring such a mix of emotions. For some it can include joy and excitement, for others ache or loneliness, it can be overwhelm or grief and sometimes all of the above and/or more.

Either way, whether it is a time of counting down the sleeps or a time of worry and trepidation, a thread can be weaving its way through – is this enough?

Is this present enough? Is what I am doing or preparing enough? Is what I am giving enough? Is what I have done this year enough? Ultimately am I enough?

I remember one December I was at a tough place within myself, and was really struggling with the enoughness and self-worth side. Looking back at that time, I can now see I was stuck in a loop of trying to fix that feeling. If I just ‘did more, bought more, gave more’, then that feeling would change. This wasn’t even a conscious thought at the time, it was just my way of trying to take the pain of not feeling enough away.

Deep down there was a belief going on of – if I could just add one more thing… maybe that would help me feel like I’d finally done enough, bought enough, given enough, been enough and maybe then I’d finally feel like I was enough.

It didn’t work, and was expensive!

As I embarked further on my healing journey, very slowly and step-by-step, some of those old people-pleasing patterns started to fall away. Patterns that could very much look like a generous heart, but actually for me at this time had a deeper wound underneath.

A common wound that needs compassion and a reconnecting with our enoughness and worth, a wound that needs more being and will not be helped or healed by more doing.

Whether we are surrounded by people or facing this season on our own, we can hear many variations of the same not-enough theme; so, how about entering the season asking…

What if I consciously focused on my enoughness and my worthiness at this time, what if collectively we weaved that as a thread through our thoughts and our actions, and our offerings.

What if the kindest gift this year, for ourselves and others, is to be keeping up the self-care practices (ideally increasing them!), to be taking the time and space to breathe, to release, to slow down, to be.

What if it was a value-driven season, a time inspired by those areas of life most important to you?

What if it was meeting the need of connection through nature, through a bigger purpose, through furry friends or your hobbies and interests?

What if it was a time of focusing on the smallest of joys, of beauty, of wonder, which absolutely will be there whatever else we have going on?

What if it was a time of regularly checking in with yourself, what you are needing in that moment and honouring that?

What if it was a chapter of tiny micro-adventures that have so many healing benefits, can be fun, and gives us stories to share!

What if…

Wherever this season finds you please know, that despite what the gremlins may be telling you, you will not be the only one feeling what you are feeling. That whatever you are feeling is valid. That you absolutely are enough and that you absolutely do belong.

You always have.

If you would like some practical tools and tips to really bring these what-ifs to life, then you can download them here.