“And so you take your time to cocoon because that itself is doing the work.
You bask in silence and stillness because that's how you tune in to yourself. You reach your arms to the sky, trying to pluck something out of the stars. You bow down to your body and listen, because that should be the most integral kind of communication that you should learn to master first. And even if the answers within you are not coming, you still continue to ask because that is how you gently invite your voice that has been ignored and shut down for a long time. Yes, that is how you slowly build the trust to listen to yourself more than anyone.
And you stand there naked and raw --unapologetic. You pave your own path with the voice within you as the navigator, and even if circumstances don't always play as you planned, you smile and learn to embrace ambiguity because that's just life, and you don't have to punish yourself for it. That is how you slowly build the connection to self.”
- Donna Dosado, visual artist based in the Philippines
Southern Leyte, 13 March 2022
The last few months have been a complete 180° from the person I had been cultivating the past two years. Being pushed into a foreign environment and being told again and again that I was to make the most of my experience pushed me out of my comfort zone. The world’s not so black and white when you visualise the complexity of all the shades in between. For the first time in my life, I felt comfortable talking with people, being honest and vulnerable. I became charismatic and developed close connections. My social radar, as it turned out, was not broken. Yet, it became overwhelming absorbing an influx of stimuli. Finding and making the time to slow down and do things at my own pace was similar to grasping at sand slipping through my fingers.
When I brought home this newfound extroversion and charm, I never gave myself the grace of landing slowly. I sought to escape the awkwardness I felt at home through other people, instead of doing the inner work and communicating honestly with my family. I was ashamed that I was no longer the person they knew when I had left. I was ashamed to project the ideals of love and family that I learned at UWC onto the people who raised me. I kept running away from it all. I ran away to Siargao where freedom was sewn into every stitch of clothing, where ‘laid-back’ was infused in everyone’s drinks, where people understood that you were trying to create yourself. I ran away because I couldn't sit with the discomfort that gnawed at my insides.
And now I’m here in my hometown again. My perspective is so different from how it used to be. I was convinced that chasing adventure and meeting people with different ideas and beliefs was the only way to grow. Don’t get me wrong, of course I still think exposure and going outside of your comfort zone is a great way to challenge programming which may not be serving you. But now I have given myself the permission to sit down with my thoughts and emotions, however uncomfortable they might be, instead of reacting to it. I have given myself the permission to digest and discern without rush. I have given myself the permission to land softly and slowly.
I think this process looks different to everyone. There are those who might completely go off the grid, deactivate social media accounts and the like. There are those who might spend their time in prayer and deep meditation. And then there’s me, showing up everyday, recognising that showing up is not a linear path to success or enlightenment. My intentions are to be more mindful of the thoughts and emotions that pass, of how these manifest in my body; to identify how I want my art to impact people but also express myself authentically; and most importantly: to pour into my cup before I pour into others.
Pouring into my cup is watching Orange is the New Black after lunch. It is sketching birds and flowers 10 minutes a day, or painting something completely random with the goal of not pressuring myself. It is sitting in child’s pose for extended periods of time. It is choosing to focus on pranayama and meditation, and not the usual instagrammable asana. Though, I’ll be perfectly honest and say that I do forget to practice yoga everyday, whatever form it may be. It is writing thoughts in my journal about how I’ve not been the best partner, friend, daughter, or sister to the ones who love me, and thinking of ways that I can be better. It is holding myself with grace and tenderness instead of self-hatred, guilt, or shame.
Solitude tells me to change what I can about myself and to accept what I cannot change about others. Solitude flips the script of a very negative view I had of the world around me and allows me to look within. Solitude is holding up a mirror to the parts of me that need attending to and says: “Don’t worry about a thing, ‘cause every little thing is gonna be alright.”
I wonder what solitude looks like to you, dear reader.
I wonder if you'll ever find a time in your life where you would welcome solitude.
I hope you know that in your solitude, you are never alone. You are a part of a vast universe.
Love and light,
Amanda
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