They say the darkest part of the night is just before the dawn, but for a while there, I wasn't sure the sun was ever coming back up.

I’m going to be straight with you: this is the scariest and most vulnerable thing I’ve ever done. I’m opening up about a mental health crisis that took me right to the edge—scarily close to a final exit. I'm talking about a state of total "decoherence," where the weave of my world didn't just fray; it felt like it had completely disintegrated. In our Māori worldview, we might call this a heavy season in Te Kore—the Great Void. But as Reverend Māori Marsden taught us, Te Kore isn't just "nothingness"; it is the realm of raw potentiality.

Stop chasing a "bottom line" that doesn't exist; your bank account is literally breathing the same air as the mangroves in the Hokianga, and science finally has the receipts to prove it.

Tēnā koutou, e te iwi. Pull up a chair here on the porch. I’ve been sitting with two books lately—one is David Deutsch’s The Beginning of Infinity, and the other is a 19th-century Te Reo Māori translation of the Gospels. At first glance, you’d think they’re worlds apart. One talks about quantum multiverses and the reach of explanations, while the other talks about the Logos—Te Kupu—the Word that brought life. But when you look closer, especially through a Ngāpuhi lens, they are telling the exact same story: nothing exists in isolation.