Lighthouses at the End of the World

I live in Aotearoa - the jewels of the South Pacific. Island gems connected to the universe through Indra's net. For most of my life I have searched for that flicker of light that brings me home from whichever part of the cosmos my God has taken me to. Coming off a mountain all you may have is the flash of a torch in a camp far below you. Coming back from paddling around the Coromandel it may be the lights of Tairua and Pauanui heads. In West Africa it could be the lights of Ile de Goree through a fierce storm. When you live on the edge you search for the light. Often it was the lights of some town on the West Coast as I flew from Australia to New Zealand. Quite often it was a lighthouse. When I wrote the first edition of Lonely Planet's guide to Western Australia it was the Cape Leeuwin lighthouse in the Southwest.

I developed this fascination for lighthouses and wherever I was in the world I would try and get to see as many lighthouses as possible. OK, some of us have severe character defects - me included. When I started to paint lighthouses started to creep in. Perhaps I wanted to ensure that while I was locked in the action of painting I could escape by spotting the light from the lighthouse on the canvas.

One of the most fascinating lighthouses I have ever visited is the Cape Reinga lighthouse at NZ's northern tip. It is a very spiritual place and this lighthouse is the last light of their homeland that departing souls see as they look back from the Three Kings Islands. OK now we are talking lighthouses here. Above is a fine detail of this lighthouse as the sun sets unimpeded by nothing but the far horizon. I feel part of a poem coming on. It is from my long fantasy poem The Battle of the Trees:

I stir these essences
In a careful motion
Before adding
The last flower
Of the Nation
The penultimate part
Of this magic creation
Pua-o-te-reinga
Ringaringa
Has come far
From the waters’ meeting
Where the tides Of Rehia and Rehua
Exchange sides
He comes to woo Weeping ladies
Seeking The flower of Hades
Each escaping spirit
Passing Te Rerenga Wairua
Seizes the chance
To catch a waft
Of the forbidden scent
Of this creeper
They scramble even deeper
To reach and pluck
The flower of eternal luck
Before the last gasp
Before they plunge
Headlong
Into the water’s grasp

This beautiful plant grows all over the promontory upon which the lighthouse is constructed. Lighthouses are a symbol of wisdom, light and sanctuary. No doubt the ringaringa will tell us about the passing parade of souls, only if they could talk. How they passed the Light at the end of this World to go on to the light of manyworlds.

I am still smarting over business card Sunday. I should have known better than to try and work on a Sunday. It must be contradictory to the spirit of one of the numerous dharma. The issue remains unresolved. Even a Google full search, call it an Internet strip search, didn't reveal any decent multiple-card to print packages (without some necessary monetary payment).

The second lighthouse is Pencarrow on the most southern coast of the North Island. It is another detail, from Spring from a Season series. I painted the series on wood and attempted to utilise the grain of the wood in each painting to achieve seasonal effect. I will cover that series in another Art Blog if time permits.

Have an exhibition to prepare for and Blogging can be a huge tool of the procrastinator. Blogging fine art, however, is much fun, and not to be taken lightly. I had a long association with William Simpson, British Navy navvie. He was one of the first of Britannia's sailors to lose his life on the shores of Aotearoa. He is buried at Sailor's Grave, near Tairua, on the Coromandel. Let him speak for himself - he was fond of lighthouses.

Sailor’s Grave

Billy Samson the sailor
Is in grave danger
From the greedy land-grabbers
…it doth seem…
Someone wants to steal
This tupuna’s right
The right to rest in paradise…
It seems…

His peace from him
They wish to take
A very ‘grave’ mistake
So it seems…

Someone won’t allow
Billy Samson
To spend his eternal days
…in an undisturbed paradise…
…dreaming of dreams…
….making schemes…
Not for much longer
…now
…it seems…

In his paradise
Above misnamed Te Karo stream
In a grave
‘Watery’ say some
‘Salty’ say others
‘Earthy’ may say you
He lies there
With the Aldermen
And the Mayor
In full view
As the town hall clock
Strikes
Quarter to two.

Woken from his dreams
He looks out at paradise
Paradise now lost
So it seems…

But never underestimate
A boy sailor
To him it’s never too late,
…to miss duty whistle,
…or the call of a mate.

Our Billy is a tough nut
‘e almost survived
A kauri tree
Fallin’ on his head.

A weighty
Single-mast spur
Destined for the British Navy
Knocked our Billy dead
It wasn’t cannonball
Nor a lump of lead
But a kauri tree
That split apart
Poor Billy’s head…

Hurrah!

Billy rest in peace now
Above Okaroro stream
Looking to the Aldermen
In his dreams of dragons
And faraway parts
Barrels of rum
Tantalising ladies
And parade ground drums.

It seems…

Billy wakes with a start
As someone pushes a shovel
Deep into his heart…

‘You bloody mongrels
Tramplin’ over Billy
Is going to be difficult
More difficult…
More difficult than mean
Damn difficult if seems…’

‘Ya’ see, fate it seems…
Is soon to be fulfilled
It was promised to me
Promised as such
In 1842
On that fateful day in May
When me…
Billy the sailor was killed
When I….
Billy the sailor passed away.’


Billy is incensed now…
And he roars:

‘And who do you think you are?
What gives you the right?
To come ‘ere
And trample all over me grave
In the dead of night?’

‘What do ya’ expect me to do?
Turn in me grave for ya’?
Ya’ need a might more than money matey
Until a sailor will…
…ya’ want me to,…
…me to swap paradise for pig’s swill?
Never…

Ya’ see
Tane Mahuta was that tree
That kauri…
…the one that fell on me head
In 1842
That fateful day
When I passed away
When I went to me grave
In 1842
Here at Sailor’s Grave
In early May.’

Billy lies in peace now
At Sailor’s Grave
Tane Mahuta and the other gods
Promised him that
They promised him that forever
After that grim day in May
They promised him that forever
He could lie here
Intestate, in peace
He ‘Billy the late’
Above Okaroro Bay,

Consider the danger
Disturber of Billy’s bones:

Never wander Pohutukawa stream
Or Okaroro beach
Or venture towards the sailor
Never alone!

Truth will always endure
Of that be sure.

When you hear a sailor moan:
I’ve a very sore ‘ead
Stop all that digging
Ya’ disturbing the dead
Can’t ya’ let a man rest in bed
The gods to me said:
‘He may live here in peace
Forevermore.’
When they told me
They said they were sure.

Leave Billy Samson to rest
Here in peace in paradise
Forevermore
In his grave…
…above Sailor’s Grave beach…
…beside his gentle Okaroro stream…
…dreaming dreams…
Forevermore
As the god’s deem.

Leave him to gaze beyond the shore
To the Mayor
And his Aldermen
Assembling for meeting
As the seagulls exchange greetings.

And when time permits
Same time as council sits
Billy joins his black-backed gull mates
On Okaroro’s shore

For five o’clock tots of rum
Pretty ladies’ embraces…
…a whole lot of fun.

Forevermore
Above Okaroro’s shores
For
Ever
More…

Of that, be sure!


Inanga Wiremu (Whitebait) signing off