Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Whakatau mauri”

An enquiry into “what analysis is” benefits from consideration of the phenomenology of analysis. Drawing on the experience of becoming and being an analyst, as well as using fictionalised case material, this enquiry reveals analysis phenomenologically as a process of living encounter with the unconscious. The unconscious manifests in many different ways each of which provides an opportunity for such encounter. By contrast, much of psychotherapy practice is a process that focuses on the client’s narrative and formulations of that narrative rather than on a process of the manifestation and encounter with the unconscious. In this article I argue that these processes shift back and forth in the manner of figure and ground and that analysis occurs when there is an equilibrium point between these two processes which itself moves more towards facilitating the manifestation of, and encounter with, the unconscious than towards narrative and formulation. Waitara He pakirehua i te “he aha te tātaritanga” ngā painga o te whakaarotanga ki te whakawā tātaritanga. Kia huri ake ki te wheako o te huringa hei kaitātari me te mahi kaitātari i tua atu i te whakamahinga rauemi paki, ka whakaatuhia e tēnei pakirehua he tātaritanga whakawā hei takinga tūtakitanga kaiao ki te mauri moe. He maha ngā momo āhua o te mauri moe, ā, ia āhua he whakaratonga tautauāmoa mō taua tūtakitanga. Hei whakatauritenga ake, he maha ngā mahi whakaora hinengaro, he takinga arotahi ki te paki a te kiritaki me ngā whakahiatonga o taua kōrero tē aro kē ki te takinga o te whakamāramtanga me te tūtakitanga ki te mauri moe. I roto i tēnei tuhinga e whakapae ana au ka neke whakamua, whakamuri ēnei takinga pērā anō i te āhua me te papa ā, ka puea ake te tātaritanga inā tau te waikanaetanga ki ēnei takinga, ā, ka whakapiri atu ki te whakatau i te whakamāramtanga, me te tūtakitanga ki te mauri moe kaua ki te paki me te whakahiatonga.

SynopsisWhakama is a psychosocial and behavioural construct in the New Zealand Maori which does not have any exact equivalent in Western societies although shame, self-abasement, feeling inferior, inadequate and with self-doubt, shyness, excessive modesty and withdrawal describe some aspects of the concept. It is an important construct in order to understand the interaction of the Maori with each other and with the Caucasian New Zealander, the behaviour of the Maori in cross-cultural settings, and the clinical presentations of some Maori patients. This paper examines some of the meanings of Whakama, its various behavioural manifestations and its possible causes. The clinical relevance to psychiatry is emphasized.Waiho ma te whakama e patu!‘ Leave him alone he is punished by whakama ’ (Maori saying)

The emotional and environmental impact of transitioning from a nappy-free culture to a society dependent on disposable nappies comes at a cost. After a seven-month “baby observation” travelling through Asia, my hypothesis is that the traditional indigenous method of managing the baby’s elimination enhances attunement, bonding, and attachment, and when the child feels held in mind by the mother in this way he is more emotionally regulated and somatically connected. However, the exponential use of disposable nappies may be our blind spot where neither the dangers to the psychological and physical health of the future generation, nor to the planet, are being held in mind. Waitara He utu ka tau ki te taha kare-ā-roto, taha pūtaiao mai i te whakawhitinga i tētahi ahurei kope pātea ki tētahi hapori whakamau kope whiu. I muri mai i te mātakitakinga kōhungahunga i te haerērētanga i Āhia, e whakapae ana au nā te tikanga whakahaere whakaputa para a te kōhungahunga ka hōhonu kē ake te piri te pirihonga, ā, inā rongo te tamaiti i te pēnei o tōna mau ki tōna whāea ka mauri tau ake te atoato. Heoi anō, ko te mahi tautokonga mau kope whiu pea tō tātou whakapuranga kanohi inā te kore e whakaaro ake ki ngā tūpatonga ki te oranga hinengaro oranga tinana ki ngā rēanga o anamata, tae atu hoki ki a Papatuanuku.

As we age or become terminally ill, we are confronted by our mortality. Being confronted by our own or another’s death can be a time of accelerated and profound growth and development. Using examples from research and personal experience working in a hospice, this article explores challenges facing our own dying as well as that of clients and family members. It discusses the relevance and benefits of psychotherapy at end of life. Throughout the dying process, disturbances can occur that may be dismissed or pathologized. This article goes further and suggests that the dying person’s apparent confusion, complex language, agitation or unusual movements, dreams and visions are some of the ways they communicate their needs and let us know what is happening to them. These phenomena are doorways through which we can connect and assist the dying to find meaning in what is happening. The dying may also experience altered and extreme states of consciousness such as coma. It is believed that in these deep inner states they are continuing their development and making spiritual connections. Rather than leaving them alone to fend for themselves, innovative interventions such as joining the world of the patient and pacing their breath are suggested. The work described in this article is based on the methods and skills found in Process Oriented Psychology, and its application to palliative care. Whakarāpopotonga Ka koroheke haere ake tātau, ka whakahemohemo ana rānei, ka putēhia mai tātau e mate. Putēhia mai ana e tō tātau, tō tētahi atu mate rānei, te wā whakatere whakaaroarohanga pakeketanga whanaketanga. Mai i ngā tauira rangahau, ngā wheako whaiaro mahi i te whare whakahemohemo, ka tūhurahia e tēnei tuhinga ngā whakatumatuma hāngai ki tō tatau, tō ngā kiritaki me ō te whānau. Ka matapakihia te whaitake me ngā hua o te whakaora hinengaro i te mutunga o te koiora. I te wā e whakamatemate ana tērā pea ka puta ake he ngākau kāhuirangi, a, e kene pea ka parea ki rahaki ka whakaaramātaihia rānei. He tirohanga atu anō tā tō tēnei tuhinga, e kī ana ko te ngākau kāhuirangi o te tūroro, te reo matatini, te kōmingomingotanga, oi rānei, ngā moemoeā ngā matakitenga ētahi o ngā momo whakaaturanga i ō rātau hiahia whakamōhio hoki e ahahia ana rātau. He kuaha ēnei pāmamaetanga e taea ai te hono atu, te āwhina atu i te hunga mate ki te rapu māramatanga mō ēnei pānga. Tērā pea ka wheakohia he takotoranga rērerekē, takotoranga tōpitopito o te mauri pērā i te maurimoe. E whakaponohia ana i roto i te ēnei takotoranga houroto e whakanake haere tonu ana rātau, ā, e hono atu ana ki te taha wairua. E meahia ana kaua rātau e waiho mokemokehia ki ā rātau anō, engari me huri ki te kōmuhu hou pēnei i te hono atu ki te ao o te tūroro ka whetoko i ō rātau hā. Ko te tūāpapa o ngā mahi whakaahuahia i roto I tēnei tuhinga nō ngā tukanga me ngā pūkenga kai roto i Tukanga Pānga Hinengaro, me ana whakatau ki te mahi haumanu.

This paper is based on a keynote address presented at the 2017 annual Maori Research Colloquium at the University of Canterbury. The paper provides a snapshot of the history of education in New Zealand, and presents a story of success in the face of enormous social and psychological challenges brought about by historical events and government policies, over time. It is written from an insider’s perspective, and is peppered with personal reflections from its author, one of New Zealand’s pre-eminent educationalists, Sir Toby Curtis, who achieved at the highest levels of education in New Zealand and abroad, and was knighted for his services to Maori education. Sir Toby reflects on the apportioning of power between Maori and non-Maori within the education system, and seeks to determine how an imbalance may have contributed to inequitable educational outcomes for Maori in the last 180 years. The following questions emerge from these ruminations: 1. In what ways has power imbalance within the New Zealand education system impacted on educational experiences and outcomes for Maori?2. How have these educational experiences manifested within (and beyond) the system?3. What meanings and aspirations can be taken from the whakatauk ‘He moana pukekepuke, e ekengia/A choppy sea can be navigated’?In essence, this paper seeks to dig beneath the surface of past occurrences in order to shed some light on the questions posed above. Sir Toby commences by sifting through the history of colonial influences on education in this country, and sprinkles this with his own experiences going to school, many of which were plagued by challenges of various forms. Sir Toby makes bold and often astute observations about the impact of colonial policy on Maori (and how it affected him personally), and redirects the emphasis by proposing a pathway forward for the future of Maori education. At its core, this paper tells a personal storywithin a larger story of a determination to triumph over notions of inferiority and oppression - it is a story of resiliency and a story of hope.

370 Background: New Zealand has a high incidence of colorectal cancer; the death rate is the highest amongst developed countries. New Zealand does not have a national screening program for colorectal cancer yet. This study was done in a region with a higher proportion Maori ethnicity. We hypothesized that there are differences in presentation and pathology of colorectal cancer between Maori and European people. Methods: A review of new cases of colorectal cancer presenting over a period of three years (2008-2011) at Whakatane Hospital was done. Data was collected from clinical records and entered into SPSS software. Results: 113 new cases of colorectal cancer were identified. Median age was 73 years. Maori patients were younger than the rest (median age 60 vs 74.5; p < 0.05). 95 patients were of European ethnicity and 15 were Maori. The predominant sign/symptom on presentation was PR bleeding (32%). Only 5 cases were asymptomatic and diagnosed on surveillance colonoscopy. The histologic type of tumor was adenocarcinoma in 111 cases. The most common site of the tumors was the rectum (18.6%). 34.5% cases had localized disease (stage 1, 2A) with no significant difference between Maori and the rest.18.6% cases had distant metastasis with no significant difference between Maori and the rest. Curative surgery was not done in 16 patients due to advanced disease, comorbidities or patient refusal. Conclusions: A higher proportion of patients were diagnosed with localized disease at presentation compared to the rest of New Zealand.. Fewer Maori patients had colorectal cancer in view of the higher proportion of Maori in the area (42-61%). The age of Maori was significantly lower than the rest. Colorectal cancer screening in New Zealand will likely detect cancer earlier. [Table: see text]

This paper will highlight Meltzer’s seminal concept of the claustrum, an unconscious phantasy of space inside the body of the internal mother that has been broken into and occupied. The function of such a phantasy of invasion into the internal mother is usually defensive in nature, where infantile anxiety has not been assuaged by adequate means of containment. The infantile part in seeking to avoid anxieties of annihilation and abandonment, in phantasy forcibly enters the internal maternal object residing there in search of relief. The price of seeking out such relief from vulnerability and helplessness is entrapment with lies, deceit, cruelty, and fraudulence as bedfellows. Meltzer pointed to the difficult struggle in escaping such fraudulent ways of being, to be able to acknowledge the goodness of the creative couple and the bearing of depressive pain. The claustrum is therefore a claustrophobic enclave. The setting is the inside of a maternal object that is made up of separate compartments, each filled with its own geographical features and qualities. This paper will draw upon intensive psychoanalytic psychotherapy with a five-year-old adopted child to illustrate the quality of existence within the claustrum and the child’s struggle to find an internal home. Waitara Ko tā tēnei tuhinga he aronui i te ariā tairangi a Merete, arā Meltzer, mō te mokoā, he mariko maurimoengā mokoā i roto o te tinana o te hinengaro whaea kua wāhia kua whetaia. Ko te tikanga o te mariko pērā ki te hinengaro whaea, i te nuinga o te wā, he momo whakatumatuma mēnā kāre i mau pai te whakamāoriori taiohi. Ko te wāhanga ki te taiohi i a ia e whai ana ki te karo manawa pā ā-kore, ā-whakarerehanga i rō mariko ka houa te rawa hinengaro whaea kei reira nei e noho ana ki te kimi taumatua. Ko te utu o te rapu whakamāmātanga o te pēhitanga me te paraheaheahanga he whakamau ki te kōrero parau, ki te mahi whakawiriwiri me te whānako hai hoa moetahi. I tohua ake e Merete te uauatanga o te whawhai ki te māwhiti i ēnei momo mahi, o te kaha ki te whakaae ki te pai o te tokorua mariko me te pupuri mamae pēhitanga. Nōreira, he wāhi whakatinā te mokoā nei. Ko te tūnga, ko roto o tētahi rawa morimori i hangaia mai i ētahi tūāporo whakakīa ki ōna ake matawhenua, kōunga hoki. Ka huri tēnei pepa ki te tātarihanga whaiora hinengaro o tētahi tama tāne whāngai tokorima ngā tau hai whakaahua i te kōunga o te mauri kei roto i te mokoā me te karawheta a te tamaiti ki te kimi kāinga hinengaro.

This article proposes that rather than being inherently dangerous, religions originate in times when people experience inter-tribal wars or other existential anxieties, and evolve in tandem with societal developments; as people become more peaceful, so do their religions. Based on Volkan’s (1985, 2006) analysis of psychological aspects of the conflict after 9/11 between America and some Muslims, it is suggested that religion serves as an ethnic and national identifier rather than being the source of the conflict. Jung’s idea that “gods” correspond to unconscious psychic factors rather than existing as entities is cited. Waitara E kī ana tēnei tuhinga ehara i te ira mōrearea, engari ahu kē mai ai ngā hāhi i ngā putanga mai o ngā wheako mai i ngā riri-ā-iwi ki te iwi o ētahi atu anipānga kē atu rānei, ka putaputa haere ake i te whanaketanga hāpori; ka hūmāriē haere ake te tangata, ka pērā anō hoki ō rātau hāhi. Whakapapa atu ki tā Wākena (1985, 2006) tātarihanga i ētahi wāhanga mātai whaiaroaro o te taupatupatu i muri mai i 9/11 i waenga i a Ameika me ētahi Muhirama, ka puta ake te whakaaro he wāhi tuku momo tangata whakaatu iwi tangata kē te hāhi, ehara i te pūtaketanga o te riri. Ka whakahauhia ake te kī a Jung, he rite kē ngā “atua” ki ngā aranga kauwaka mauri moe kaua ki ngā kitenga kanohi.

This article builds on current leadership theories and incorporates mātauranga Māori (Māori knowledge systems) and Kaupapa Māori methodology to inform a new model of Indigenous nursing leadership. The development of this model was inspired by one Māori nurse as she navigated her own leadership style that didn’t ‘neatly fit’ within existing theories of leadership. The development of the Whakapapa nursing leadership model recognised her inherent mana and dignity as an Indigenous woman, a nurse, and lesbian; alongside the learned skills, the history, relationships, aspirations, and responsibilities that she negotiated in her role. This model recognises the mauri (essence) of a person, demonstrating that leadership cannot be separated from the whole, that it is dynamic and intrinsically connected through whakapapa (ancestry). The authors propose the weaving together of many strands of leadership; utilising existing mainstream models but with additional strands sourced from mātauranga Māori – mana taurite (pursuing fairness and equity), whakatu tōtika (seeking the best solutions), i te wa tika me te waahi (in the right time and place), whakamana te tāngata (uplifting the dignity of people), ngā piki me ngā heke (embracing the ups and downs), tika, pono, aroha (acting with integrity) and te whānau, te hapū, te iwi (being accountable to the collective). While these strands are not exhaustive, they intertwine with other unique nursing leadership attributes to create a strong and inclusive leadership model. Hence, leadership is like a kete (basket) - each kete is unique, has its own kōrero (story), its own strengths, and weaknesses; and is beautiful in its wholeness. Utilising a Whakapapa nursing leadership approach can enhance outcomes for Māori nurse leaders to be authentically themselves for the betterment of their services, teams, whānau and hapori (communities).

In writing the history of art in Aotearoa/New Zealand, much attention has been focussed on the exhibitions and activities of painters and sculptors of the Māori Renaissance in the 1950s. Equally significant was the impetus given to reviving customary crafts through the Adult Education movement associated with the University of Auckland. The Maori Social and Economic Advancement Act of 1945 positioned the responsibility for preservation, revival and maintenance of "Māori arts, crafts, language, genealogy and history" with iwi, and led to the formation of the Maori Women's Welfare League in September 1951, with its agenda to perpetuate women's skills in Māori arts and crafts, and for these to be practised within an architectural context. A Māori advisory committee was established in the Adult Education Centre at Auckland University College in 1945, tasked with mitigating Māori urban alienation through the teaching of Māori arts and cultural history to establish "pride of race and cultural achievement." In 1949, the first tutor for the Maori Adult Education Extension Programme was appointed, Maharaia Winiata (1912-60), followed by a graduate of the Rotorua School of Māori Arts and Crafts, Master carver Henare Toka (Ngāti Whatua) and his wife Mere. They recruited students from the Auckland University College Māori Club and pupils from Māori secondary schools to decorate the entrance hall of Sonoma House, 21 Princes Street, with kōwhaiwhai and tukutuku. Thus an Edwardian building was reborn as the University's Adult Education Centre, and was acclaimed for its biculturalism in the spring issue of Te Ao Hou in 1954. Now 60 years old, the tukutuku panels have been preserved by present day Deputy Vice Chancellor Jim Peters in the ground floor of the University's Clocktower following the disestablishment of Adult Education. Seven of these tukutuku panels have recently undergone extensive conservation treatment, and they are recognised as highly significant examples of twentieth century weaving, exemplifying the approach to reviving customary tukutuku at mid-century in terms of the materials and techniques as well as patterns: muumuu, or purapura whetuu roimata toroa), waharua koopito, whakarua koopito, niho taniwha and nihoniho. They have now gone on display in pride of place in the University Clocktower. This paper will contextualise the changing meaning of these tukutuku panels from interior décor to historic design within the evolving narrative of customary Māori weaving practices.

This article is a reflection on the Social Dreaming Matrix (SDM) sessions which were held at the 2013 NZAP Annual Conference at Orakei Marae in Auckland. It describes the context of this conference and reflects on the preparation and role of the three conveners, representing the bi- and multicultural dimensions which were explored at the Conference. As a psychoanalytic discovery and development, social dreaming values the concept of “we-ness” as a means of reaching collectively-held unconscious meaning in the social domain. The article reflects on some of the most central dreams presented in the SDM sessions and on subsequent associations from each of the three sessions. The attention in the work is on broadening the ground of the material presented in the dreams and in the associations to the dreams. The SDM leaves it to the participants to energise around their own chosen figures. Waitara He whakaatanga tēnei tuhinga i ngā wāhanga riro i te Hāpori Tauira Moemoeā (Social Dreaming Matrix) i te Hui-ā-tau a te NZAP 2013 i Orākei i Tāmaki-makau-rau. E whakaatu ana i te horopaki o te hui, ngā whakahaere whakarite me ngā mahi a ngā kaiwhakahaere tokotoru, ngā māngai mō ngā āhuatanga tikanga rua tikanga maha i arotakehia ake i te hui. Hei tā te kaitātari hinengaro kitenga, whanaketanga hoki, he uara nui te ia o te “tātou-tātou” hei ara neinei atu ki te puringa-whānui o te tikanga mauri moe i roto i te huinga hāpori. Ka whakaaro te tuhinga ki ētahi o ngā moemoeā matua i whakaarahia ake i roto i ngā wāhanga moemoeā me ētahi wāhanga puta mai i te hui. Ko te aronga o te mahi ko te whakawhānui i te tūāpapa o ngā rauemi kōrerohia mai i ngā moemoeā me ngā whakapānga atu ki aua moemoeā. E waiho ana mā tēnā, mā tēnā e whakahihiko ake huri haere ake ngā āhua whakaritea e rātou.

Spirit has often been separated from body and mind and treated as not amenable to scientific study. A big influence in this regard was Ludwig Wittgenstein who, in 1922, came to the conclusion that the language of science was not able to talk about the mystical, saying, “There is indeed the inexpressible. This shows itself; it is the mystical” (p. 90). With the development of the science of the human mind and human relationships, spirit is perhaps becoming more amenable again to study. Alexander Lowen (1988) brought the concept of “spirit” under scientific and therapeutic observation through the concept of bio-energy, working with the body as well as the mind. Donald Winnicott (1953, 1960), through the idea of transitional phenomena, placed the language of the mystical in a psychodynamic and scientific context. Alan Schore (2012) has provided a neurophysiological way of talking about how the unconscious process contributes to human development through relationship. Patanjali’s Yogasutra, compiled 2,000 years ago, covers similar ground in a way which remains useful and relevant and which helps in understanding the distinction between mind and body and spirit. Waitara Tēnā ia anei i te nuinga o te wā wehea ai te wairua mai i te tinana me te hinengaro, ā, meatia ai kāre e whaiwāhi hai kuapapa mātai hinengaro. I te tau 1922, ka puta te whakataunga a Ludwig Wittgenstein kāre e taea e te reo pūtaiao te kōrero mō te tūāhu, arā, ko tāna, ‘Āe ra hoki! Kāre he kupu hai whakaahua. Koianei tōna tohu atua’ (w. 90). Kua whaneke ake nei te taiao o te hinengaro me te whakawhanaungatanga, kua rata haere pea te wā wānanga wairua. Nā Alexander Lowen (1998) i mau te ariā ‘wairua’ ki raro i te tirohanga mātai hinengaro mātai haumanu mā te ariā pūngao koiora, mahiatahitia nei te tinana me te hinengaro. Nā Donald Winnicott (1953, 1960), i whakauru te reo ā-wairua ki roto i te horopaki mātauranga pūtaiao, whakahihiko hinengaro. Kua homai e Alan Schore he ara kōrerohanga mātai whaiaroaro mō te hatepenga mauri moe ki te whanaketanga o te tangata puta mai i te whakawhanaungatanga. He rite tonu te papa pōtaea e tā Patanjali Yogasutra, i whakaemihia rua mano tau ki muri, ā, e hāngai tonu ana e whai hua tonu ana hoki me te āwhina i te mātauranga whai haere i te rangatiratanga o te hinengaro te tinana me te wairua.

This article discusses issues in treating the historical trauma of Māori, the colonised peoples of Aotearoa New Zealand. The advent of Māori psychotherapy has enabled valuable insight into the needs of such clients, but, even as it helps define a space of safety and nurture for Māori, questions arise about how non-Māori practitioners might treat Māori clients from outside this largely intra-cultural process. The article focuses on the response from New Zealand Pākehā (that is, New Zealanders of European descent), due to the fact that they are in the most primary bicultural relationship with Māori, in which an inherent white privilege and coloniser status complicates the relational process. Finally, the article discusses the difficulties Pākehā experience in bridging intercultural divides around cultural competency, power structures, and the importance of cultural self-awareness, which may also have a wider multicultural relevance to other tauiwi (non-Maori) practitioners. Whakarāpopotonga He matapakinga kaupapa whakatika i te hītori whetuki o te Māori, te tangata pēhitia o Aotearoa. Nō te tīmatanga ake o te whakaora hinengaro Māori te whakamanahanga o ngā mātauranga mārihi ki ngā hiahia ō aua kiritaki, engari, ahakoa e āwhinahia ana te tautuhi ātea haumanu, poipoi mō te Māori, ka ara tonu ake te pātai mō te momo whakaora kiritaki Māori ā ngā kaiwhakaora o iwi kē i waho ake i tēnei hātepe ahurei-takitahi. Ka arotika atu tēnei tuhinga ki te urupare mai ā ngā Pākehā, nā te mea ko rātau te kākano rua mātāmua ki te Māori, e puta ake nei te momo hao ā-mā me te tūranga kaipēhitanga hai whakauaua i te hātepe whakawhanaunga. Hai whakamutunga, ka matapakihia te uauatanga o te wheako Pākehā ki te whakawhiti tautuhi ahurei whakapā ki te toa ahurei, te mana whakatakotoranga, me te tokānuku o te tuakiri ahurei, ā, tērā pea he pānga whānui ake anō ki ngā kaimahi (iwi kē) kākano maha.

This paper reveals the significance of the female role in the healing of mother nature (Papatūānuku) and all her progeny for Māori living in Aotearoa New Zealand. I discuss how understanding the synchronisation of the male and female energies can balance the spiritual health, wellbeing, and healing of Māori and their whānau (families). My own whakapapa that traverses back to the beginnings of time informs my methodology which acknowledges the wider whānau concept and links with both the living and the non-living ancestors of nature. These divine feminine descendants and spiritual guardians are identified as the essential foundation of traditional Māori healing. I examine the interconnectedness of Māori (ordinary, natural) people being a living consciousness with an innate ability to link in with the ancient mother energies of nature and all her progeny. The unconditional love of the ancient mother energies of nature are the spiritual source of healing for Māori and can be instrumental in balancing the natural order of the male and the female roles within the self, the whānau, and the wider whānau unit of mother nature. Waitara He whakaaturanga tā tēnei tuhinga i te tohu o te tūnga o te wahine i roto i ngā tumahu o Papatūānuku me ana uri katoa ki te Māori e noho nei i Aotearoa. Ka matapakihia e au mā te mātauranga mahitahitanga o te pūngao tāne me te pūngao wahine e whakarite te hauora wairua, te hauora me te tumahu o te Māori me ō rātau whānau. Ko tōku whakapapa e hoki nei ki te kore ki te tīmatanga o te wā te hua o taku tikanga mahi e whakaae ana ki te ariā whānau whānui ka whaiheretahi ki te hunga ora me te hunga mate o te ao tūroa. Ko ēnei hekenga māreikura kaitiaki wairua e tohua ana ko te tūāpapa o te tikanga tumahu Māori. Ka arotakehia e au te whakahononga o te iwi Māori koia nei te koiora mauri ora mau momo ki te hono atu ki a pūngao tūroa me ōna hekenga katoa. Ko te tuku aroha herekore o ngā pūngao tūroa te pūtaketanga o te tumahu mō te Māori; te mea hai whakarite i te paparangi o te tikanga tāne tikanga wahine rō whaiaro, rō whānau me te whānau whānui o te ao tūroa.

For many years my practice of psychotherapy has been informed by two papers written nearly 60 years ago by Donald Winnicott: “The Capacity to be Alone” in 1958 and “The True and False Self” in 1960. I often find myself sitting with the experience of someone searching in me for themselves, sometimes insisting that I explain how they should be in the world, as if I am supposed to know who they are better than them; sometimes there is a sense of seduction associated with this experience. Recently I connected with a quote from Uri Bronfenbrenner: “In order to develop normally, a child requires progressively more complex joint activity with one or more adults who have an irrational emotional relationship with the child. Somebody’s got to be crazy about that kid. That’s number one. First, last, and always”. In this paper I consider how my patients have taught me both how to be alone with them and also be crazy about them, so they can grow themselves. Whakarāpopotonga Kua hia tau au e huri ana ki ngā whakaakoranga mai o ngā tuhinga e rua ā Tānara Winikoti i tuhia e ono tekau tau ki muri: “Te Kaha ki te Tūtahanga” i te tau 1958 me “Te Tuakiri Pono te Tuakiri Hewa” i te tau 1960. He wā anō ka puta ake he hau pēnei i te mea e kimi haere ana he tangata i a ia i roto i a hau, ka tohe mai hoki māku e whakamārama atu me pēhea tōnā āhua i roto i te ao i runga i te whakaaro he mōhio ake au i a rātau ko wai rātau; i ētahi wā puta mai ai he āhua hīanga. I kō tata tonu ake nei ka tūpono au ki tētahi kīanga a Uri Porohenaperena: “E whanake maori ai, me āta whakaraupapa kia piki haere ake te uaua o ngā tākarotahi a te tamaiti me tētahi pakeke, ētahi pākeke he heahea noa iho nei te whakapiri ki te tamaiti. Me piripono tonu he tangata ki taua tamaiti. Koinā te tuatahi. Tuatahi, tuamutunga, ākē ākē”. I roto i tēnei tuhinga ka whakaarohia ake e au te whakaakohanga mai a āku tūroro me pēhea te noho tūtāhanga i ō rātau taha i tua atu i te noho kaingākau ki a rātau kia kaha ai rātau ki te whakatipu ake i a rātau anō.

The book “The Tail of the Fish” was publised in 1968 and written by a Te Aupouri kuia, Matire Kereama (nee: Hoeft) of the far north of Aotearoa, New Zealand. I grew up with this book as my grandmother would read the stories to me at bedtime. Although my comprehension of each story was very vague and unrelatable to my life at that time, today, I find myself totally absorbed by the historical content and knowledge encapsulated in each chapter. I completed a Masters of Applied Indigenous Knowledge at Te Wananga o Aotearoa in 2017, entitled; Tales of the singing fish: He tangi wairua. I compsed twelve waiata (Maori songs) of which ten of the waiata was information extracted from ten chapters of the book. The other two waiata were composed specifically for my people of the Te Rarawa tribe, namely, Ahipara. The whakatauki “e kore e ngaro, he takere waka nui” (we will never be lost; we are the hull of a great canoe) demonstrates the amazing srength of the ancient sea voyager “Kupe” who discovered Aotearoa, New Zealand, in the deep South Pacific Ocean, Te Moana nui ā Kiwa.

Throughout my childhood upbringing, the term Indigenous was never once used in my household. I identify myself as a Samoa, Maori woman. If someone were to ask me of my birthplace, Aotearoa would be the first name I reply with before New Zealand. My father, a proud Samoa man, who acknowledges his village of birth being Papasataua, Savaii born o n the island of Samoa; is how he introduces himself. My beautiful mother, who identifies herself as mana wahine born Manaia, Taranaki. A child of the Whakatutu, Tepania whanau line. Both of my parents never used the terms Indigenous or indigeneity to introduce who they are, or as a sentence starter to explain their connection to land, sea or people. In recent years, it has come to my attention the term Indigenous, is not only spoken often in and around my place of study; but also, printed several times within the tertiary provider’s prospectus. I begin to think; now is an excellent time to explore and look at the relevance, of the term concerning the New Zealand context, field of practice and I as a practitioner. It is with hopes my findings and personal views, help you the reader, start to think and really look at the types of words people place on you. After all, who likes being called names. Instead I, myself give the right to a name; then have a n ame give its power to define me.

“Ko te pae tawhiti whāia kia tata, ko te pae tata whakamaua kia tina; seek to bring distant horizons closer and sustain and cherish those that have been arrived at”. This whakatauāki or proverb, from Dr Whakaari Te Rangitakuku Metekingi (LLD, CBE) of Whanganui and Ngāti Hauiti tribes reminds us that, while we must have a vision to aspire towards, we must also tend to the here and now, to the issues that are up front and close to home. It exhorts us to strengthen what has already been achieved and find ways of creating benefits for others. This paper presents the collaborative response to COVID-19 by Iwi (tribes) within Te Ranga Tupua (TRT), a collective of Iwi from the South Taranaki/Whanganui/Rangitīkei/Ruapehu regions of Aotearoa New Zealand. The research employs a mixed methods design, based on a Kaupapa Maori approach. The quantitative section identifies the population served and quantum of support provided, while the qualitative data presents the processes and associated learnings from the perspective of those tasked with the response. TRTs response to the threat of COVID-19 is shown to have been grounded in Māori values (tikanga), whānau (family) based and holistic, taking into account the mental, emotional, social, cultural and spiritual elements of safety and wellbeing, rather than just the absence or presence of the virus . The extensive relationships and networks that existed between tribes represented in the TRT collective were key to the timely distribution of care and support to Iwi members, to appropriate and relevant information dissemination and to the overall wellbeing of the people during the most difficult times of the COVID-19 response.

Esta edição especial do DAT Journal considera o pensamento do Sul. Ela parte da seguinte indagação: “No lugar em que a prática é constituída como investigação, como seriam as vozes do Sul na pesquisa em Arte e Design?” Em 2009, Raewyn Connell publicou um livro chamado Southern Theory (Teoria do Sul). Respondendo às crescentes preocupações sobre a maneira pela qual o Norte Global domina o modo como o discurso é moldado e disseminado, a autora questiona a validade de representar o conhecimento global a partir de uma perspectiva essencialmente cosmopolita. A crítica de Connell desafiou as percepções de que o Sul Global era periférico. Mas, afinal, o que é esse tal Sul Global e como isso afeta o conhecimento? Srinivas Aravamundan argumenta que Norte e Sul são “ontologias relacionais e dialéticas, e não absolutas”1 , e Anthony Gardner sugere que o processo de construção de conhecimento do Sul é essencialmente “um modo de questionamento (...) tanto analítico quanto catalítico.”2 Certamente, poucos pesquisadores entendem a ideia do Sul meramente como uma localização geográfica. De fato, se assim fosse, então “Sul” seria um equívoco, porque muitas das populações indígenas no hemisfério sul se veem no centro do mundo em que vivem.3 Dito isto, é preciso considerar que certas populações consideradas “do Sul” têm características distintas. Além dos processos de negociação da descolonização, países como a Nova Zelândia e muitas nações do Pacífico têm tradições acadêmicas que enfrentam desafios históricos e contínuos, incluindo o triunfo do individualismo sobre a responsabilidade coletiva, a revogação do respeito pelo conhecimento e influência ancestrais, a remoção das dimensões genealógicas e cosmológicas da terra, a marginalização do conhecimento metafísico e a supremacia da cultura escrita diante da literacia oral e pictórica. No Brasil, os desafios assumem uma forma ligeiramente diferente. Acadêmicos confrontam uma tradição de erudição enraizada sob o signo da distinção social, da negligência das culturas que constituem a identidade da nação (especialmente das populações Indígenas e Africanas), da ruptura entre uma “visão utilitarista da prática” deslocada de um “caminho teórico reflexivo” - e vice-versa, e da incapacidade de estabelecer um pensamento verdadeiramente interdisciplinar. Assim, dadas tais circunstâncias, consideramos útil examinar como os doutorandos não apenas posicionam a prática como pesquisa no Sul, mas também como navegam em seus parâmetros e linhas de força. Ao organizar esta edição especial do DAT, pedimos a 13 doutorandos no Brasil e na Nova Zelândia que considerassem essas questões em relação à sua prática atual. A maioria dos autores está vinculada a duas universidades: Universidade Anhembi Morumbi em São Paulo, Brasil e Auckland University of Technology, em Auckland, Nova Zelândia. Ao escrever esses artigos, estes doutorandos assumiram a posição de primeiro autor e, apoiados por seus orientadores, consideraram a questão da investigação conduzida pela prática (practice-led) em relação a seus próprios projetos de pesquisa. A diversidade de pensamento disponível nesta edição é extraordinária. Robert Pouwhare e John Vea discutem como as metodologias de pesquisa na Nova Zelândia e no Pacífico podem criar reformulações ideológicas fundamentais dentro da academia. O trabalho desafia os paradigmas do Norte porque se baseia em conhecimentos e valores epistemológicos indígenas complexos e distintos. Com uma abordagem complementar, Derek Ventling considera um framework para uma abordagem heurística destinada a investigação conduzida pela prática (practice-led) trabalhando com certos conhecimentos metafísicos ocidentais. Continuando essa ruptura, tanto a pesquisa de Marcos Steagall quanto a de Rumen Rachev desafiam as ideias fundamentais dentro do academicismo. Rachev explora metodologias fluidas para “desfazer” o trabalho intelectual de um doutorando, desestabilizando as convenções emergentes em torno da pesquisa conduzida pela prática (practice-led). Steagall postula uma dimensão espiritual como extensão do conhecimento incorporado na prática fotográfica. Cristiane de Alcântara e Jackson Marinho instigam reflexões sobre questões atinentes a forma, conteúdo e função em territórios fronteiriços entre Arte e Design. Alcântara propõe o livro do artista como uma sequência de espaços em que um processo permanentemente em andamento pode ser estabelecido enquanto lócus de posicionamento do autor. Marinho usa tecnologias de código aberto para um “faça você mesmo”. Sua pesquisa resulta em um dispositivo audiovisual interativo não convencional que permite a mistura de parâmetros de sons e imagens por meio do processo de tocar uma tigela de metal. Desafios para os modos de prática também formam as principais preocupações dos artigos de Olivia Webb, Emily Ohara e Rodrigo Freire. Webb explora o papel da escuta e da harmonia na prática artística que envolve participantes e diversas comunidades. Ohara discute como os processos de elaboração do luto podem funcionar enquanto base para a expressão conduzida pela prática (practice-led). Freire explora a aplicabilidade de projetos de Design Aberto (Open Design) no campo da arquitetura e design urbano em países em desenvolvimento. Neste estudo, Freire considera questões como replicação, personalização, otimização e viabilidade econômica. Ao abordar questões de acessibilidade, Lima Junior desenvolve um método de ensino e aprendizagem para praticantes videntes, cegos ou com deficiência visual, por meio da incorporação de estímulos sensório-motores. Desta forma, estes estímulos são projetados para aumentar a conscientização dos recursos possíveis e necessários para o desenvolvimento de coleções de design de moda. No que diz respeito às interfaces entre o significado e as tecnologias emergentes, tanto Tatiana Tavares quanto Leonardo Lima recorrem ao posicionamento cultural para explorar abordagens poéticas e teóricas sobre a construção de significados como reflexão artística e articulada sobre a prática ao se envolverem com artefatos digitais interativos. Todos esses pesquisadores potencializam parâmetros para ativar formas distintas em que a prática pode recorrer ao conhecimento. Eles se baseiam em posições culturais, geográficas e ideológicas moldadas por seu pertencimento ao Sul. Assim, ao oferecer essas considerações de pesquisa conduzida pela prática (practice-led), propomos que aprendamos “a partir de” ao invés de “sobre” o processo de construção de conhecimento emergente que gera conhecimento além das ênfases do Norte Global. Esta edição especial propõe tanto convergências quanto divergências com o pensamento estabelecido. Ela emana do reconhecimento de que as “histórias peculiares que geram práticas sociais e artísticas formam encontros dialógicos com vozes nas periferias da autoridade e fazem um loop de um processo iterativo para gerar seus próprios alicerces teóricos”. 4 Ao fazer isso, esta edição especial do DAT Journal oferece uma coleção de vozes distintas que falam a partir e para dentro de um mundo renegociador. Essas vozes questionam, através da prática, as ideias de Connell de um Norte Global tradicionalmente puro e autoritário, mas também reafirmam a natureza da pesquisa conduzida pela prática (practice-led) em Arte e Design como algo responsável e culturalmente constituído. A este respeito, recordamos um famoso whakataukī (provérbio Maori) que diz: Ehara ta tangata kai, ele kai tītongi kau; engari mahi ai ia ki te whenua; tino kai, tino mākona. A comida fornecida por outra pessoa é apenas comida para ser mastigada; a comida produzida pelo próprio trabalho na terra é boa e satisfatória.