Faith in the Field: We Do Not Heal Alone

“Your presence became the tāhuhu — the ridgepole of the whare —holding the space steady as the storm passed through.”

That’s what the day asked of me —to stand grounded in faith as everything around me swirled.

Aurora over the marae

The Storm Arrives

A client was coming for her first in-person session at Hurihanga after months online. She had already faced a difficult morning — locking her keys in the car, breaking a window to retrieve them, gathering her three dogs without leads, and driving more than an hour through torrential rain.

By the time she arrived, the whole field — the air, the dogs, the whenua — was alive with tension. My own Labrador, Bruce, stayed safely in his kennel; I knew he didn’t need to take on that energy. Inside, the space felt too charged, so I said softly:

“Let’s go to the beach.”

It wasn’t part of the plan, but it was part of the healing.

Faith as Presence

Brother Lawrence once wrote that we are not saved by belief, but by faith — the living awareness of God revealed through the moments of our lives.

That morning, faith meant letting go of form and stepping into flow.It meant listening for where Spirit was moving,even when that looked messy and unpredictable.

Walking to the beach in the rain became the prayer.Faith was not an idea — it was an embodied act of trust.

Te Ao Māori — Healing in Relationship

In Te Ao Māori, wellbeing is relational. Healing happens through whanaungatanga — the interconnection of people, animals, whenua, and wairua.

Her daughters phoned her on the journey.Her mokopuna waited in Auckland — a reminder of lineage and love.

When her car failed to start after the session, I drove to Mangawhai for the part. Together we went to the local auto electrician, who replaced it kindly and charged almost nothing .When I explained I was supporting a vulnerable client, he nodded and said quietly,

“My wife might need your help one day.”

That was whanaungatanga in motion — aroha moving through many hands.It was manaakitanga and mauri ora restored through community.

She trusted me; I trusted the village; the village responded.

Te Whare Tapa Whā — The Four Walls of Wellbeing

• Taha tinana (physical): repairing the car, walking on the beach, moving the body — safety restored.

• Taha hinengaro (mental/emotional): calm presence allowing mind and body to realign.

• Taha whānau (family/social): her daughters, mokopuna, my whānau, and the community helpers — a shared holding.

• Taha wairua (spiritual): faith and grace woven through every disruption — Spirit made visible.

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The whare held because each wall was supported.

Te Wheke and te Whenua

In Rose Pere’s Te Wheke, wellbeing moves like an octopus —many tentacles reaching from one heart of wairua and whānau.

Every being that day — the dogs, the horses, Bruce, the client, the electrician, the rain, and myself —was one of those tentacles restoring flow.

Even the septic truck that arrived to clear the tank became a teacher:a physical act of release, a reminder that what lies beneath must sometimes surface to heal.

The whenua worked with us, not against us.

Whānau — The True Teachers

One of the biggest teachings was the importance of whānau in holding a healing space. Not just the client’s — my own.

More and more people are seeking Equine and Animal-Assisted Therapy, and I can feel the stretch in our community. This work calls for a wider web of support . We do not heal in isolation; we heal in relationship.

The night before, I spoke with my sister and her partner. We sang, prayed, and shared our spirituality through music. That vibration carried me through the storm.

Later, my son’s girlfriend — also a therapist — asked,

“How does your mum manage it all?”And he smiled:“She has a horse and a dog called Bruce.”

He’s right. My strength doesn’t come from managing —it comes from being held by family, animals, land, and love.

We are all both healer and held.

Faith, Whānau & Wairua

Every part of the day — the broken window, the thunder, the electrician’s kindness, Bruce’s quiet watchfulness —was an act of divine choreography.

Faith was the wairua moving through it all. Whānau was the vessel that held it. The whenua was the body that grounded and restored balance.

This is the heart of Hurihanga —transformation through connection.

Karakia Whakamutunga

E te Atua, Whakapaingia tēnei mahi ,Whakakotahitia mātou i roto i te aroha me te marino, Hei oranga mō te katoa.

Divine Source, Bless this work. Unite us in love and peace, for the well-being of all.

Integration Reflection

When storms come — in the sky or in the soul —our role is to be the tāhuhu, the ridgepole that stays upright, steady, and kind.

But the ridgepole does not stand alone; it rests on the walls of the whare and the hands of the people who built it.

Faith is knowing we are held as we hold others. Healing is remembering that truth.

“We do not heal in isolation; we heal in relationship.”