Joy and grief. Sunlight and rain. One body, many colours.
There are moments in life where joy and grief stand side by side.
Where your heart breaks open with both beauty and ache.
Where tears fall even as your lips smile.
Where something ends and something begins—at the very same time.
This is the space of Ūenuku, the rainbow.
The sacred arch that stretches across the sky, reminding us that we can stand in more than one truth.
That life is not either/or, but always and.
Ūenuku is not created from perfection.
It is born of contrast.
It is Ranginui’s tears—grief from the heavens.
It is Tamanuiterā’s rays—light from the sun reaching through.
It is the interplay of sorrow and radiance, emotion and energy.
Grief and joy making something beautiful, together.
When I look at Ūenuku, I see myself.
I see my heart stretched wide enough to hold both mourning and celebration.
I see the colours of my experiences—some soft, some sharp—woven together by the very act of continuing to show up.
To live with an open heart means being willing to feel deeply.
To grieve what was lost, while still welcoming what is possible.
To honour the pain, while still allowing light in.
We are not broken for feeling both.
We are not confused for laughing through tears.
We are whole, and human, and capable of walking with many emotions at once.
Ūenuku teaches us to stand in these places.
To not rush past grief to get to joy.
To not push joy away out of loyalty to grief.
But to allow both, fully.
So next time you see a rainbow, remember:
It is not weakness to feel it all.
It is divine.
It is whakapapa and wairua made visible.
It is Ranginui and Tamanuiterā coming together to remind us that we are never alone in the in-between.
We are allowed to stand in the rain and be touched by the light.
We are allowed to feel joy without guilt.
Grief without shame.
We are allowed to be radiant and raw — just like Ūenuku.
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May you carry this knowing in your own arc across life: You can hold both. You already do.