My Account
A background helping large companies with marketing and PR proved to be good preparation for the work Vincent Maire of Manly eventually moved into, in the not-for-profit sector. In the process, Vincent also found a way to combine his lifelong interest in spirituality with his day job at Hibiscus Hospice. He spoke with Terry Moore.
One of my daughters enrolled at Ambury Park Centre for riding therapy in Mangere Bridge and she was very happy there. Three months after she started, the organisation, which was a Charitable Trust, ran out of money and I decided I would like to help. I was elected chair of the Trust and we embarked on what became a 10-year programme to forge a new future for the centre. That was my introduction to the not-for-profit sector. It was a challenging job but I discovered the power that comes from a group of passionate people working on a project for the common good. I also found out what can be achieved through the generosity of the wider community. It was very hard work and at times stressful: they had a herd of 15 horses and I knew nothing about horses, but that was fine because others were experts; it was the same with running the school. It was about teamwork and setting a goal and a vision and how to get there. Together we saved the centre and it continues to thrive today, helping people with learning difficulties and special needs.
Previously I had a long career in marketing and communication, working in large corporates, then went into market research for 10 years and freelance Public Relations. That’s how I first connected with hospice, in 2004, where I got a job as fundraiser. They had already raised quite a lot of money to build a local hospice for the Hibiscus Coast and I was given the task of raising the last $2 million. A few days into the job we got a cheque from the ASB Charitable Trust for $1.1 million! When the crash of 2008 happened it became much harder to raise money but by then we had built the facility we have now in John Dee Crescent. I had that fundraising role at Hibiscus Hospice until 2011 and by then I felt I had achieved everything I had set out to and was a bit burnt out. I’d lost my creative spark. I didn’t want to leave hospice but I knew I had to leave. I went away for 19 months and for quite a bit of that I did nothing apart from a bit of fundraising for a couple of trusts. I had absolute faith that something good would come along in regard to future work. I surrendered to the situation – a real leap of faith – and learned a lot about myself in the process.
Before I left, and while I was away from hospice, I completed a course in spirituality with an organisation called Spiritual Growth Ministries – a New Zealand based organisation run by all the mainline Christian churches. Its aim is to train spiritual directors. It looked like an interesting course and I saw it as part of my ongoing spiritual journey, which has been an important part of my life for many years. Spirituality is so much more than going to church on Sundays – it’s incredibly diverse and we are all spiritual in one way or another, although some don’t recognise it. Art, music, your vocation, the conservation movement (which is about healing the earth) are all spiritual. The people at hospice knew that I had an interest in people’s spirituality and one day they asked me to return in the role of spiritual carer. The job was previously called ‘chaplain’ and I am the first person to hold the position without being an ordained minister. I only had to think for about three seconds before I said ‘yes’ to their offer. It had never occurred to me that I would return to hospice, but it was a wonderful affirmation to be invited back by people who thought I could contribute in that way. When I came back, in July 2013, for the first time ever in my life I came to work no longer feeling like a square peg in a round hole. I felt strongly that I was in God’s hands and that this is what I should be doing. I also returned to a place that I truly love, to work with people that I care for a great deal.
Nurses tell me when a patient wants to see me and the process is different for every individual – from someone who has never thought about what might happen after death through to someone who is convinced that they will see Jesus in heaven. My role is to give hope and encouragement to the patient and their family in an appropriate way. It’s difficult to put into words, but when I go to see a patient for the first time I go in with no agenda, no preconceived ideas and with something that in Zen is known as ‘beginners’ mind’. I am guided entirely by what happens in the moment. There is not a lot that I can actually do, but being with the person is what is important. That could be listening to their story and maybe helping them make sense of it, or simply being a silent presence. Often words just get in the way and even prayer can be inappropriate. I start and end each day with 30-minute periods of meditation in the Christian tradition. Just as a runner may warm up and down, that meditation is my preparation and provides the foundation of my work. It is an absolute privilege to be with someone when they are suffering and somehow all of us who work at hospice are protected from being overwhelmed. We support each other and take self-care very seriously. However, there are some days when, at the end of the day, I will find that I have experienced inexplicable joy followed by incredible exhaustion; when that happens I firmly believe that I have been in the presence of a higher power.
I am married to Liz and we have two daughters and two granddaughters. We both have a great involvement in conservation. We volunteer on Tiritiri Matangi Island – Liz works with school groups and I do fundraising. We also do a bait run at Shakespear Open Sanctuary every month and are keen trampers. There is a lot of development around us – it’s at our back door at hospice – but it is more than offset by the wonderful work that volunteers are doing at Tiri, Shakespear and other areas. I have a great many blessings and living here is one of the best. I am part of the Hibiscus Coast Catholic community and also national coordinator for the New Zealand community of Christian meditation. I enjoy introducing people to this way of praying. From a very young age I felt close to God and I have come to recognise that I am hard wired for it. I am one of six children and not many of my siblings still go to church, whereas I am nourished by a spiritual practice and see spirituality as a gift. One thing about the Catholic Church is that it includes contemplative prayer which comes from the monastic tradition and I’m very attracted to that.
It’s important to talk about dying – as a society we don’t do that as much as we should. It’s been shoved under the medical carpet and I think it’s also more easily avoided as a subject because people can go for decades without losing someone that they love. I strongly recommend that people have a conversation, not just about doing a Will or planning a funeral, but about the big picture and the big questions, such as ‘is there an after life?’ Maybe get a book about near death experiences – find out more about something that is inevitably going to happen. I am always amazed at how many people are okay about dying although it’s true that many who we see in hospice are elderly. For younger people facing death there is a great feeling of unfairness, and it can be very difficult for them and their families to deal with. It is unfair, and no one knows why. Our role at hospice is to support that person and their family to the best of our ability. When someone has a serious illness they can become like monks in a cell: they do their inner work, even if they don’t know they are doing it. They reflect on their lives, the good and the bad – but it’s always the good things that they remember most. They discover, as we all should, that the most common form of spirituality is love. When I walk into a patient’s room and the family is sitting around the bed I know I am not needed.
