When Simone Woodland dreamed up the idea of creating a co-housing village, she didn’t imagine she’d have to become a developer to make it happen. Simone moved to Aotearoa from the UK in 2018 as a Sir Edmund Hillary Fellow, on a visa programme specifically designed for social entrepreneurs like her. Her initial vision was to build a community that looks after burnt out social entrepreneurs.

When Sarrah Jayne heard about Simone’s idea she was captivated. She gave up her job in Pōneke Wellington and jumped on board the mission. Together with some friends and supporters, they found a plot of land in Takaka, Mohua Golden Bay and started the journey.

The core team was made up of three women, each of whom was pregnant and gave birth during the project. One of the secrets to their success, they say, was the incredible support and understanding they offered each other through these huge life events and the massive challenges of the job.

Their aim from the outset was to create a community - to make it possible to live well together, forge deep bonds with neighbours, share resources, offer mutual support in tough times and tread lightly on the earth.

But stepping into the process was a bit like jumping in a river - the system has a force of its own. It’s designed for large developers to build individual houses and it took a huge amount of energy and determination to hold to their values and create something affordable, communal and ecologically sound. The easiest way to navigate the system, was to start a development company - thus they became developers. It was a race against time and money as COVID struck, building costs soared and they held tight to the trust and life savings of the 30 or so groups who took a leap of faith to join the project. Some ideas - like composting toilets and tiny houses - had to drop away so they could get the job done in time. Explaining the concept of co-housing to banks, councils and lawyers was hard work.

But they made it! Now the first of three clusters of houses has been completed and the villagers have moved in. The plan is to build two more clusters of houses to complete the village.

In our conversation, Simone and Sarrah reflect on the ups and downs of the journey so far, what it’s like to see their vision realised and their hopes and dreams for the future. They see themselves as part of a nationwide movement to make housing more communal and accessible and less commercial. There are so many passionate people working hard around the country on similar kaupapa. They hope their efforts will help to strengthen the pathways in our systems for these important projects to succeed.

Earlier this year I took part in an eight week online course called Gathering at the Gate, created and facilitated by my friend Elli Yates along with her three friends and co-conspirators - Wren (or Tamsin) Blundell, Erin Thomas and Dani Pickering. The aim of the course is to offer a kind and encouraging space for Pākehā or white assimilated folk to come together and explore the difficult questions around our legacy of colonisation and how we show up as responsible treaty partners without being paralysed by shame?

Doing Gathering at the Gate has been a foundational part of my exploration of home and belonging. Through the course we were encouraged to delve into our own family histories and discover the stories of our settler ancestors who first arrived in Aotearoa - Where did they come from? Why did they come? Where did they settle? How did they establish themselves here? We learnt about the racist policies, laws and wars through which settlers were given land and Māori were displaced and disempowered. We were challenged to identify the ways in which we have benefited personally from those historical injustices through inheriting wealth and property and taking the opportunities we’ve had due to being white.

For me, Te Tiriti o Waitangi is a generous invitation to make this land my home. But acknowledging the stories of how I came to be here uncovers a deep well of difficult feelings - shame, anger, sadness and confusion.

Elli, Wren and the other facilitators held a gentle space for us to feel these feelings and make sense of them together.

In this interview I talk to Elli and Wren about how their personal journeys have led them into this work. We explore the massive issue of shame - how it can paralyse us, but how it can also wake us up and help us move into a more compassionate and responsive state. We talk about the richness of relationships and the sense of belonging that can be found amidst the compost of past hurts.

Show notes

If you’d like to find out more about Gathering at the Gate or sign up to one of their courses just go to

https://www.gathering-at-the-gate.org/

A big thanks to Elli, Wren, Dani and Erin for their brave work in this space.

The quote Wren refers to in the interview about shame being the thin lid on top of a well of grief comes from Maegan Chandler, one of the co-creators of “Re-calling our Ancestors” - another Turtle-Island based online program akin to White Awake and Gathering at the Gate.

The other quote Wren refers to is from an amazing documentary about reckoning with slave-holding ancestry called "Traces of the Trade" directed by Katrina Browne. Here it is in full:

“In the Dagara Tribe of West Africa it is believed that the dead do not pass over into peace until the living have cried all the tears that these ancestors did not cry in their lifetimes - for that which they suffered and for the suffering they caused others. May we, the living, find tears that will bring peace to both us and the ancestors.”

Malidoma Patrice Somé

The song I played half way through the show was recorded around the campfire at the Music Nature and Storytelling camp Wren attended in Northern New Wales (Hawk's Nest) with master tracker Jon Young. The singer was Junae Rodgers and the song came to her during her sit spot practice that morning.

The song we played at the end of the show is another song from the same camp. It came to teenager Reminy Holmes during her sit spot practice.

Charlotte Shade is a friend of mine and I’ve watched with interest and admiration as her group of housemate/friends have bought a house, had babies and brought them up together in a loving non-nuclear family group.

In this conversation Charlotte and I explore where the idea of buying a house with friends came from, how her group made it happen and what they’ve learnt in the process. Being a lawyer, Charlotte has a unique perspective and set of skills. She created this legal agreement, which enables the group to navigate potentially difficult situations like someone wanting to leave. They have made this agreement open-source so that other groups can use or modify as needed.

I was particularly struck by one thing that Charlotte said:

“I’ve realised that you can just do things differently if you want. You just have to do it. It's not necessarily going to be plain sailing, but when is life ever plain sailing? It's hard. There's going to be difficult things. So why not do something different?”

It struck me that these different pathways are open to us if we have the curiosity to look for them and the patience and confidence to navigate the challenges. It was clear from talking to Charlotte that the gains of energy, time and connection far outweigh the challenges of owning a house with friends. She call her and her partner “time millionaires” and she feels profoundly grateful for her situation.

If you’d like to learn more about the benefits and challenges of co-buying and how to go about it, Charlotte’s house-mate Rupert has written some excellent articles:

This article describes the process they went through to find their house.

This article provides details on the legal and financial side of the process.

This article describes the process of coming up with shared values.

And this article is about having a baby while buying and co-owning a house.

This week the tables have turned. Hannah gets to fulfil her dream of being a podcast host and I have a go at answering difficult questions about my childhood, the economics of my life, why I’ve chosen to focus on home and kāinga, what I hope to achieve in this project and why I feel like a piglet suckling an enormous industrial mother pig.

It was a treat to explore the ideas and epiphanies this project is bringing me. I feel shocked that it has taken me 41 years to begin to understand the ways our economic system controls our lives. Despite my deep desire to connect with community and the whenua, I find myself relying on big corporations for my day-to-day sustenance - supermarkets, banks, oil companies etc. Ironically it feels simpler and less risky to keep suckling at these impersonal industrial entities than it does to do business with friends and family. It seems to me that we’ve lost a fundamental ability to work together and to sustain ourselves from the earth. That feels scary! But I do have hope that by understanding more and connecting more we can start to detach ourselves from the teats of the industrial mother pig and reshape the way energy and resources flow.

I’m very excited to share this conversation with 19 year old activist and student, Anika Green. She grew up in an inner city Christian community called Stillwaters in Te Whanganui a Tara which aims to provide a space of belonging, transformation and faith for anyone who needs it. In her childhood home she was surrounded by all kinds of people who loved and cared for her, including homeless people, gang members, sex workers and refugees. She never learnt to view these people through a lens of difference. By hearing their stories and sharing in their grief and joys she learnt about issues of poverty, discrimination and injustice in a very personal and immediate way. By the age of four she was already a passionate advocate for social justice and her commitment has only grown since then.

I used to visit the Stillwaters community when I was at university for the dinners and services they hosted every Friday and Sunday evening. I remember feeling like I’d come across a warm cave in a bleak landscape when I stepped inside. I was moved by the warmth and generosity with which everyone came together to eat, sing, laugh and chat. The experience cut through a sense of isolation in my life. It was refreshing and nourishing to get out of my bubble.

In this conversation with Anika we explore the economics of her childhood home - how they afforded to feed so many people every week, where the energy and resources came from and how they balanced the needs of their family with those of the community. She told me about the home she’s creating for herself with other young students and her vision for how homes with open doors could provide the belonging and dignity people need to thrive.

I was particularly struck by one thing Anika said:

“When you know you’re loved and belong, it’s easy to be selfless.”

To me, this statement speaks to the heart of economic system change. The Good Energy Project has taught me that alternative economic systems which honour the planet and people are possible - but they require a profound shift in the way we relate to each other. As Bryan Ines pointed out in our conversation last year, we need to re-learn how to work together.

Talking with Anika, I had the sense that she lives in a wider field to other people. She has a huge capacity for service and connection because she receives so much from the people around her. She lacks the barriers, fears and indoctrinated ideas that cause other people to shut down.

This conversation spurred some deep reflections of my own sense of belonging and my capacity to open my door and welcome people in. This has been both inspiring and confronting. I don’t think I could live in a home with an open door as Anika does at this stage. I don’t feel I have the capacity, the skills to establish healthy boundaries or a deep enough sense of belonging to draw on. But I feel deeply inspired by the openness and generosity Anika shows and I want to engage in the slow work of opening up and connecting across difference.

It strikes me that unless we find pathways to belonging and ways to heal our own sense of displacement and shame, we won’t have the capacity to show up for each other or the planet.

After interviewing lots of inspiring and knowledgeable experts it was so lovely to sit down with someone I know really well and embark on a journey together. Hannah is such a great storyteller. I was captivated right from the start by her descriptions of her childhood, her uncompromising teenage passion for animals and the environment and the way she veered off her scrupulously developed life-plan (to become a vet like her Dad) into the chaos, beauty and terror of the world.

This is a beautiful story of the way life reveals pathways and hope where we least expect them.

One of the reasons I wanted to interview Hannah now is that her story aligns with a new focus for my project.

(By the way I have some very exciting news - I’ve been funded to continue the Good Energy Project for another year until October 2024!! I feel like I’ve spent my first year just getting my head around the topics of economics and climate change. In the next year I’m really excited to start to explore how I might be able to contribute.)

One of the focuses for the funding being renewed is speaking to more young people - because our ultimate aim is to support young people who will inherit all these challenges. Hannah is quite young - 27. She wants to be part of a more caring and connected economy and world. But it’s really hard when you’re at the beginning of your career, everything is expensive and none of the obvious ways of making money align with your values.

Another focus for my next year is to experiment with creative ways of working with the ideas and needs I’m discovering - I’ve spent my career devising creative interventions to help bring the humanity back to intellectual topics like science and engineering - things like magnificent science variety shows and storytelling events. I also find myself surrounded by creative people - my wife is an arts therapist, my brother and his partner are puppeteers and writers. I find myself drawn to creative people and I’m convinced that whatever the solutions are to these huge problems I’ve been exploring, they will need creativity to succeed. Hannah is one of my thinking partners for imagining what this could look like.

Another thing I think we’ll need, to bring to life the ideas and possibilities I’ve been talking to people about, is some kind of spiritual or cosmological revolution - something that supports us to change ourselves and our fundamental way of seeing the world. I’m not sure I like the word “spirituality” but it expresses something under the surface that effects everything. Lots of my interviewees have eluded to similar things. Hannah has a nice way of describing this.

So Hannah seemed the right person to help introduce some of these new themes and explorations. She’s also just fun to listen to!

I’m really pleased to be able to share this conversation with Max Rashbrooke - journalist, author, academic and expert on economic inequality and democratic renewal. I’ve seen Max around for years in Wellington. I’m pretty sure I remember him at parties a decade ago having rigorous political conversations. I’ve been stoked over the past year to get to know him and bit more.

I loved this conversation! We went right back to Max’s childhood in Eastbourne and learned about his teenage love of sci fi, his core belief that another world is possible and the values of generosity and reciprocity which he holds dear. We explored the connections between poverty and climate change and Max’s vision for the future.

I was struck by the resonances with my last conversation with Hemi Hireme (& Part 2) - the idea that forty years of market economy has stifled our imagination for what’s possible and eroded our faith that government initiatives can make a real difference in people’s lives. As a result many of us feel overwhelmed and fear that nothing works.

Max talks about the importance of being able to connect with people across society and have real conversations about the things that effect us. He says we need real examples of how alternative approaches actually work - not just visions and values. And that these real-life stories are out there - we need to start sharing them more.

“Now is the time for new ideas and frameworks to bubble up,” he says. “Are we building a nurturing society? And what would it take to make New Zealand genuinely the best place to bring up a child?”

I love these questions. It was a hopeful conversation and a remedy for the overwhelm and hopelessness I frequently feel.

This show is the second part of a two-hour conversation I had with Hemi over Zoom. It felt so rich I wanted to share it all with you instead of doing a separate interview.

If you missed the first half, you can find it here: Decolonising our imaginations - Part 1

I also recommend reading this article which Hemi recently wrote for the Spin-off: “The Sunday Essay: Two waka, three iwi, three hapū”. It tells a beautifully poetic story of his background and work.

Hemi is on a mission to re-establish the Māori philosophy of Ranginui (Sky father) and Papatūānuku (Earth mother) as a foundation for our society. He has spent the past twenty years researching the history of capitilism and colonisation while immersing himself in his own Māori cosmology, which views the earth as a living entity. Hemi has a vision of re-establishing marae as the political, economic and social centres of our communities and seeding a culture that celebrates difference while finding belonging and connection in the land.

Hemi talks about how our modern world is dominated by a European philosophy which separates us from the natural world and from each other. He believes that we need a spiritual and cultural renaissance to shake off old ideas that have colonised our minds and build the unity and strength we’ll need to survive climate change. He suggests that the Māori philosophy of Rangi and Papa offers a remedy to help bring our country together with hope, pride and diversity.

I hope you enjoy the conversation as much as I did.