Often, we offer care to others, to our work, to the world, until we’re stretched thin. But what if reciprocity includes you?
What if tending to yourself is part of how you honour that circle And what if nature, patient, responsive, alive, is showing us how?

• When you pause to rest, you are like the pōhutukawa shedding last season’s leaves.

• When you soften your inner voice, you echo the stillness of morning mist settling over a quiet field.

• When you express gratitude for a tree, a bird, or the breath in your lungs, that, too, is reciprocity.

Nature does not rush, or resent. It gives and receives in a way that sustains life, not depletes it.

He Mihi mō te Whakawhitinga

Te Reo Māori:
Tēnei mātou e mihi kau ana ki a koe,
ki tōu ngākau atawhai, ki tōu wairua ngohengohe.
Ka hoki ngā mihi ki te taiao —
ki ngā rākau e tū māia ana,
ki ngā manu e waiata ana i te ata hāpara,
ki te hau e pupuhi ana i ō mātou whakaaro kia mārie.
Ko koe, ko au, ko tātou katoa, he wāhanga nō tēnei orokohanga.
Ko te atawhai ki a koe anō, he koha ki te taiao.

Let your self-kindness mirror that, not urgent, but gentle, mutual, and real.

What would it mean to care for yourself in the same way a forest nourishes its roots before its canopy?
What might shift if you saw rest, reflection, and joy as part of your contribution to the world?

When we include ourselves in the circle of care, alongside others, taiao (the natural world), and spirit, we return to balance.

This is reciprocity.
This is self-kindness.

A Call for Reciprocity

English:
We offer this greeting with deep respect,
to your kind heart, to your gentle spirit.
We return our thanks to the natural world,
to the trees standing tall in stillness,
to the birds singing in the morning light,
to the wind that carries our thoughts toward peace.
You, me, all of us, we are part of this living creation.
To care for yourself is to give a gift back to the natural world.