The afternoon sun is baking the volcanic stones and warming the kiwifruit orchards here in Maungatapere. Looking out over the land, I’m reminded of what Reverend Māori Marsden called the "Woven Universe"—a reality where everything is a process of interconnected threads rather than a collection of separate things. If we are to transition Te Tai Tokerau from the extractive "Babylon" to the regenerative "Zion," we must understand how every person living here—tāngata whenua, tāngata Tiriti, and our new immigrant whānau—fits into that fabric.

For too long, the "Babylonian" operating system has relied on the "Newtonian Error". This is the bad explanation that views the universe as a clockwork mechanism made of separate, isolated parts. In our community, this manifests as the "Rational Individual," an atomised agent seeking to maximise their own utility at the expense of the collective Mauri. But modern physics and ancient Mātauranga agree: separation is an illusion.

In the Quantum Whakapapa Nexus, we recognise Whanaungatanga as literal Quantum Entanglement. When tāngata Tiriti or immigrants move to the North, they are not just "units of labour" or "consumers"; they become entangled with the life force of this whenua. Their skills, their capital, and their presence become part of the local energetic field.

I was driving behind a line of logging trucks heading toward Marsden Point the other day, and it hit me. We aren’t just looking at timber; we are watching the literal skin and bone of Papatūānuku being shipped offshore. This is the "Leaky Bucket" in real-time. We export the sunlight, the rain, and the soil nutrients—the embodied energy of our whenua—and in return, we get a bit of fiat currency that leaks straight back out on petrol and plastics.

In our latest research, we’ve identified that the struggle in the North isn't just about a lack of money; it’s a battle between two different operating systems: Babylon and Zion.

Babylon is the system of extraction. It’s built on "Newtonian" software—the idea that everything is separate. It treats the land as dead matter and people as atomised units of labour. This is what we call Chrematistics: the art of making money for its own sake. It’s thermodynamically "Entropic," meaning it creates disorder. It leaves us with road damage, silted harbours, and social fragmentation.

I was standing on the side of the road near Maungatapere the other day, watching another line of trucks hauling raw logs toward the port. It’s a sight we’re all used to in Te Tai Tokerau. But if you look at those trucks through the lens of physics, you aren't just seeing timber. You’re seeing a massive export of embodied energy.

For decades, our home has been treated like a "Leaky Bucket." We send away the best of our whenua—the sunlight, the rain, and the soil nutrients that grew those trees over thirty years—and in return, we get a few low-wage jobs and some fiat currency that usually leaves the region the moment we spend it on petrol or power.

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.

Growing up with a Pākehā mum who held onto a very specific, strongly colonised religious view, my scientific mind was always at war. I want to be clear—I love my mum deeply. She did the absolute best with what she’d been given, and she always did it with a pure heart. 

To me, spirituality looked like fairy tales—nice stories for Sunday mornings, but nothing that stood up to the rigour of 'real' data or the 'hard' world of business and physics. I experienced a strain of neoliberalism and imperial theology that had weaponised the spirit, turning it into a tool for control or relegating it to a building you visit once a week.

I was “passengering” to Mt Manaia with my bro and sis the other day listening to Unity Pacific’s “Thou We Are”, and it hit me how much of our story in Te Tai Tokerau is tied to a land thousands of miles away. Most people see the red, gold, and green flags at Waitangi and think it’s just about the music. But if you look deeper, those colours are signals of a shared "Quantum Entanglement" with a global struggle for sovereignty.

The connection isn't accidental. Back in the 19th century, our prophets like Te Kooti and Ratana saw something in the scriptures that the missionaries didn't want them to see. They looked at the story of Israel and didn't see a lost people needing British "salvation"—they saw themselves. They claimed that identity of a "Chosen People" with a direct covenant to Io, bypassing the spiritual authority of "Babylon" or the British Empire.

Kia ora e te whānau. Pull up a chair and let’s have a real talk for a moment. 🌿 We often think of our faith or our deepest beliefs as a direct, unedited download from the heavens—a fixed rock that has never changed. But if we look at the whakapapa of history, we start to see the fingerprints of men where we expected the hand of the Divine.

The truth is, much of what we call "standard doctrine" in Te Tai Tokerau was forged in the fires of political survival. In the language of physicist David Deutsch, many of these "rules" are "Bad Explanations"—ideas that are easy to vary because they served a specific person’s power rather than the universal truth of the Woven Universe.