It’s been three years since I picked up the Alaya mantle, and sometimes shame overcomes me for neglecting it for so long. I thought I’d lost the fire that built Alaya to begin with, but I guess life projects of this magnitude assert themselves no matter what.
Here I am, living in a condo–the best condo setup in the Philippines in my opinion–and still I find myself pining for the wide open spaces of a landed community. Life has been on repeat for the past five months, and I’ve found myself in the movie, “Waking Life”, living like an ant. This is not life. I refuse to succumb to numbness, to cattle talk, to survival mode. We can do better. I can do better. For Sulana.
Last week I had a vision of real excitement, of joy I could smell and taste, and it was sea breeze that lingered on me. To live seaside is still the longing of my heart, and I went back to why I started Alaya to begin with. I wanted to wake up everyday surrounded by nature, and more importantly, by people who shared my life vision and values. People I wouldn’t tire of having barbeques with, who I’d entrust raising my daughter to, who I’d call whether to help save the world or watch Spirited Away with. That’s what lights up my eyes everyday.
I look at the past three years, and do an audit of my time and energy, and 0% of it was devoted to this. How could I have strayed so far?
One can say life railroaded me. Marriage, motherhood, startup life. To gain control over the past and own my story, I would reframe that in the words of my mentor Benjamin Hardy, and say that all these happened for me. I am who I am now, August 10th, 2020, five months into a pandemic, with the global economy and healthcare system on the brink of collapse, because of everything difficult, heartbreaking, and traumatic that has happened in the past three years. They call the years of 37, 38, and 39 the dark night of the soul, when all the forces that have nurtured and supported your spiritual journey pull back and leave you on your own. These are the years of forging the iron sword solo, and one comes out of this moment either stronger and ready for battle, or brittle and nearly broken, needing to rebuild.
I’m still midway through this dark night, and I choose to keep plowing through. The digging deep also persists, to find that golden anchor that will keep the fire burning, and will keep lighting other fires, no matter what.