Ancient mysteries

Mayan ball game

Forgotten cultures

A recent post in a sister-blog on the stone mysteries of southern England—the ancient, awe-full wonders of Stonehenge and Avebury—has been chipping away at my memory recently, and, seeing as I am incapable (for which there is a bullet-pointed list of personally applicable reasons) of writing about the topic of quantum physics, I shall follow this chalk-etched lead instead—a kind of Puppy Powers Revisited yet again, jumping on the bandwagon act of flattery by appropriation I suppose.

Here in New Zealand there is much to be proud of—clean air, clear skies and crystal waters, all so abundant that we take them for granted. We are much like children this respect, blissfully ignorant still of limitation in life, and it often takes a trip beyond the shores of "God's Own" to bring the realisation that, in the words of comedian and Kiwi cultural icon John Clarke, "We don't know how lucky we are, mate."

Did I say clear skies? Let me qualify that, for I meant free of pollution. The name for New Zealand in Maori, our indigenous Tangata Whenua or "People of the Land", is Aotearoa—the "Land of the Long White Cloud", and although assigned by a culture in general more poetic in these matters than my own, it has in this case a quite literal meaning. In Auckland, my home city and inspiration for the Crowded House song Four Seasons in One Day, the clouds are never far away.

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