Stargazing at Shakespear Park | By Vincent Maire
BY VINCENT MAIRE
This article was first published in the July 2024 issue of Refresh - Matariki.
Ten years ago, an insight from US astronomer Guillermo Gonzalez so intrigued me I recorded it in my journal. Gonzales is a controversial voice in world astronomy. A proponent of Intelligent Design, he is on the faculty of Discovery Institute that expounds the view that ‘mind, not matter, is the source and crown of creation, the wellspring of human achievement.’[1]
In his book The Privileged Planet, Gonzales argues that planet Earth is remarkably well placed for astronomy. It is located on the very plane of the ecliptic[2], just off the spiral arm of our galaxy, with the result that humans can see deep into space. This, and other findings, has led Gonzalez to conclude that humans are meant to explore the Universe.
I too live along a spiral arm, one that looks out into the Hauraki Gulf. It is the Whangaparaoa Peninsula, part of Auckland’s Hibiscus Coast and has been my home for 30-years.
At the end of this spiraling peninsula is Shakespear Park, 500-hectares of bush and farmland where my wife and I have long volunteered. At the park’s highest point is a lookout tower with sweeping views of the Gulf, the city and the Hibiscus Coast. It is here that Liz and I have ventured these past two winters to witness the rising of Matariki.
Matariki 2022 drew several people to the lookout. Alas, cloud cover prevented us from seeing the constellation that for millennia has encouraged people from their beds. We were luckier in 2023.
When Matariki appeared low on the horizon, I was taken aback by the emotion that welled up within me. It seemed so fragile, a silken cocoon, host to tiny seeds that signified new life.
Finally, I understood why the appearance of this constellation is such a significant event in the spirituality of diverse cultures around the globe. And here it was again, celebrated as a new public holiday in Aotearoa. But like all great mysteries, it was soon lost to sight as dawn broke over the Gulf and Tiritiri Matangi Island.
Matariki/Pleiades/Subaru, to list just three of its many names, is generally associated with abundance, harvesting and gathering, especially in the Southern Hemisphere. Globally however, the constellation has been viewed as a feminine entity, most commonly the seven sisters.
In Māori mythology Matariki is a mother and her six daughters. For the ancient Greeks they are the seven daughters of Atlas, and the seven sisters storyline is also found among the indigenous people of Australia.
Greater minds than mine may argue the pros and cons of astronomer Gonzales’ insight that humans are well-placed to explore the Universe. However, his observation triggered two thoughts:
1 What impact has eons of stargazing had on the evolution of spiritual consciousness of humankind?
2 Are there two ways to explore the Universe, one mystical and the other technical?
These thoughts are not recorded here for debate, just to illustrate a hunch I have long had that looking out into that darkness with its multitude of stars, has surely had a profound influence on how humanity discerns creation as belonging to a Higher Order that is beyond yet deeply part of ourselves.
The writings of two imminent psychiatrists can, I believe, bear light on mystical versus technical stargazing. Carl G. Jung ‘pointed out that the impoverished West has lost myths and symbols, the archetypal models planted in man’s humankind’s subconsciousness whereby he can commune with the invisible world of the Transcendent Absolute. In a dehumanized, rationalistic world, man is rich in techniques, poor in intuitions, in feminine receptivity to the inner voice that resides in the “temple invisible”.’[3]
Jung believed we engage with our archetypal models through myths, religion, legends and literature. To not do so is to diminish our psycho-spiritual development.
British psychiatrist Iain McGilchrist is best known for his 2009 book, The Master and his Emissary: The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World. His premise is simple: The master is the right, intuitive hemisphere of the brain which seems better able to appreciate things in their uniqueness, while the emissary is the left, logical hemisphere that generalizes things into categories.
For tens of thousands of years humankind lived under the guardianship of the master, until starting in Europe with the Age of Enlightenment in the 17th and 18th centuries, the rationalistic emissary gained ascendency and now reigns supreme. Indeed, I would suggest that without our being aware of it, the emissary has become one of those despots we initially thought would liberate us, but we find ourselves enslaved.
Are our high levels of mental illness, domestic violence and suicides evidence of an existential crisis grounded in our ‘dehumanized, rationalistic world that is poor in feminine receptivity?’[4]
Psychotherapist and theologian Russell Siler Jones puts it this way: ‘Healthy spirituality and religion do not answer all our questions about why bad things happen, but they provide at least some structure of meaning and some degree of solace and fortitude.’[5]
Could the problem lie in too much abiding in the anxiety-causing reality of, for example, social media and its algorithmic rationality, rather than the Reality of the mystics?
Our new national holiday of Matariki can help here. My first encounter with Matariki was filled with awe and wonder. All I had to do was look. I am heartened by Teresa of Avila’s advice to her Carmelite sisters on how to meditate, ‘I do not require of you to form great and curious considerations in your undertaking; I require of you no more than to look.’[6]
Yes, for me it was a spiritual experience not unlike meditating; waiting in silence and stillness for those clouds of unknowing to briefly part and the mystery to be revealed.
The myth of Matariki and her six daughters tells us the event is a family affair, a time for dancing, singing, feasting and kite flying. It is also a time to remember those who have died in the past year. Yet sadly, advances in medical care means we have turned aside from death. The sheer mystery of death and dying is becoming too much for us.
We need to befriend death and take time to reminisce over those significant others who have gone before us, to be reminded that our own passing will come round in due time. Matariki will help us do this; to celebrate, in a uniquely kiwi way, the Feast of All Souls and heed the advice of St Benedict to keep death before our eyes[7].
Seeing Matariki for the first time in a place we love and have long volunteered in was a truly memorable way to welcome this new, New Year. I strongly urge you to do the same in 2024, especially with someone you love.
[1] www.discovery.org
[2] Earthsky.org: The ecliptic is a projection of the plane of Earth's orbit around the sun, traced onto our sky.
[3] George A. Maloney S.J., The Breath of the Mystic, p6
[4] George A. Maloney S.J., The Breath of the Mystic, p6
[5] Russell Siler-Jones, Spirit in Session, p141.
[6] Evelyn Underhill, Practical Mysticism, p29
[7] The Rule of St Benedict 4.47
Vincent Maire is a spiritual director and continues a long involvement with the New Zealand Community for Christian Meditation as a leader and teacher. Along with three fellow SGM graduates, Vincent is helping to re-establish the spiritual direction ministry at the St Francis Retreat Centre in Auckland.
This article first appeared in the July 2024 issue of Refresh.
Refresh is SGM’s journal of contemplative spirituality in Aotearoa, New Zealand. You can view the current issue of Refresh or browse the archives in the Refresh section of this website.
