The invisible strand: What does connection mean to me?
Do I know you?
Are you me?
Am I you?
No, but I feel you,
Within me.
Heart pumping,
Blood pulsing,
As if you are me,
And I am you.
‘The Invisible Strand’ by Ngahaka Hei Hei
Ngahaka has a great smile - the kind that lights up a room without taking away the shine from yours. We both work for the Council, but don’t really cross paths professionally. Thinking about it, I had mostly spoken to her at waiata (singing) on Friday mornings. We were on a three-day noho marae together last week, and I felt like it was the first time I really ‘saw’ her.
Over the years, I’ve become comfortable having deep life conversations with total strangers in my search for connection. Beats talking about the weather anyway. But I also know that level of vulnerability doesn’t come easy. To open up like that requires a lot of trust - not just in the other person, but more importantly, in yourself. Once those words leave your mouth, you can’t take it back. You have to be strong enough to take what the other person offers in return. It can also take a lot of energy without giving back any in return.
We were in the wharenui (the main building at a marae), sitting on our mattresses after a long day. My brain was dog tired, but also craved conversation. The wharenui is an open space, so even though most people were still awake, we found ourselves whispering. Ngahaka shared her poem ‘The Invisible Strand’, and I shared with her about my journey with spoken word. “Do you ever share your poetry in public?” I asked her. “No, because one time when I did share this poem with a friend, they didn’t connect with it. So, I’ve just kept it to myself.” I felt that.
Connection for me, is a feeling, a vibe, a knowing. Finding commonality in the way we do life helps us feel part of something, even if we don’t have a word for it yet. That’s the power of spoken word. It tells of our joys, triumphs and heartaches when we don't have the words or the courage to speak them. “Dating in my thirties, men became the hiccup I couldn’t drink my way out of. Their words offered a trickle of vulnerability, and like a dusty riverbed that had forgotten the taste of rain, I drank.” Those are the first two lines from my poem ‘Pages’. Some will hear heartbreak, to me, it speaks about the journey of knowing my self-worth. That no one can make me feel small unless I give them that power.
Ngahaka and I probably only talked for about 30 minutes, although it felt much longer. We talked a bit about life - I learned that we both journal, that's how we both got into writing poetry. I saw her and she saw me. We promised to make time for coffee and share more poetry, which I’m really looking forward to.
I have a poetry slam coming up in October, and to be honest, it’s been slow writing the poems I’m taking with me. I choose to taste words that taste good, and I guess it will take some time to break the muscle memory of my writing habits. Finding that initial connection isn’t hard, I mean, humans are 60% water after all, so we can all feel the same feelings, just in different ways. The more important question to ask now is what do I do with that connection - is it something I value enough to nurture, to grow and keep in my life?
xo Ronna Grace
fivefootronna is Ronna Grace Funtelar - a thirtyish adventurer, sometimes poet and lover of cheese. She has a unique brand of optimism that is a combination of her great enthusiasm for life and cups of coffee during the day.