Returning to HEarth
On shapeshifting, shadow, and sacred return
Hi friends,
After a long digital hiatus, I feel called to reintroduce myself — not as a static self, but as someone continuously shapeshifting. This feels like a rebirth, emerging from what some might call an ego death. And truthfully, I’m still in the thick of dying — letting go of past selves, past names, past patterns — and morphing into whoever this “Althea” is becoming.
In the spirit of integrity, I return to a medium I’m still learning to trust again: writing. My relationship with it has always been both tender and terrifying. It mirrors my fears — of being seen, misunderstood, making mistakes. Of being shamed for those mistakes. But as Dra. Rocío Rosales Meza reminds us:
“You don’t have impostor syndrome. You have a colonized mind. Whenever you doubt a spiritual connection, that is the colonizer’s voice.”
Identities in Motion: Between the Do-er and the Be-er
Right now, I feel myself straddling two rivers — what I’ll call, for this musing, the feminine and the masculine.
On one bank lives the masculine part of me, the professional: an environmental and Indigenous rights advocate, a climate activist, a communications practitioner. This is the Thea who does — she completes tasks, produces outputs, crosses off to-do lists, and feels productive of herself, purposeful in motion.
Across the water is my feminine side, the Thea who feels — a writer, an animist, a spaceholder, and a daughter-devotee of the Great Mother / Pacha Mama / Divine Feminine. She is in relationship with spirits, guides, trees, birdsong, ancestors, angels, dreams and other such beings in different realms. She reflects, prays, listens, tends, learnes, expresses, receives, and is present, whether that is with humans or more-than-human beings.
Being an animist isn’t just a belief system that there are spirits co-habiting this Earthly plane — it is a way of being in relationship with the Earth. It is being in relationship with those spirits, knowing they are with us, and honoring their presence and influence in our lives. Being in relationship to the land, I offer cacao to the Earth before I drink my own in the mornings. I pray daily, knowing the spirits listen, that the land listens. It means being in reciprocity with the Earth, that when I take something from Her, I give something in return. I whisper to flowers, leave hair strands as offerings after I pick them. I ask if I can pick them.
My professional work — perhaps unconsciously — has always been an offering too. An act of service to the Mother.
But I confess: I haven’t fully found the path that reconciles these two rivers. I haven’t merged these two identities into one confluence. Not yet. Still, I’m learning to honor both within me. I see how these two energies, these two gods show themselevs in my thoughts and deeds.
Some Context (For Those Who Want the Backstory)
Okay, those are my beliefs, a part of my identity, a piece of the puzzle.
As for my herstory, I have posted it here on Instagram, a platform I consider a blog of sorts.
For the logical brain: I’ve trained in women’s circle facilitation with the The Global Sisterhood, courses deeply rooted in Indigenous wisdom, particularly that of the Yawanawa tribe in the Amazon. I studied Deep Ecology withThe Work that Reconnects Network, which sparked Deep Ecology Philippines, a co-creation with Steve Manzano, grounding the framework in our own local, Filipino narratives. I also trained in coaching through the TLC Solution, though I’ve yet to integrate that work in a way that feels aligned with both my inner masculine and feminine energies.
I’m also endlessly curious — I collect courses the way others collect shells or poems: Astrology, Human Design, Epigenetics, Ancestral Work, Shadow Work, Slow Living. I rarely finish them. But I’ve come to see this not as a failure, but as quantum curiosity. I’ll return to them when the time is ripe. I trust divine timing and I’m learning discipline, too — because mastery requires showing up.
Tender Truths
I tend to speak in metaphors. Some of my relationships are blooming, others need tending and watering, some need endings I haven’t yet had the courage to offer. I am in a loving relationship, but I no longer want to be defined by it. Quiet tending feels more aligned. I am healing the mother wound — and yet, paradoxically, I believe I am already whole. (More on that below in the May 1 Musing.)
Where I’m Headed (or Trying To)
These are the paths I dare dream of walking:
Hosting weekly restorative circles grounded in Deep Ecology and decolonial healing, especially for Indigenous youth and young climate advocates
Facilitating grief circles, and sisterhood circles
Writing more essays and musings (even if fearfully)
Embracing the parts of me I usually hide — flaws, doubts, fears
Co-creating an ecovillage with my spiritual kin
Supporting the rising of human consciousness through Indigenous, ancestral, and Earth-based wisdom
So many things, so many fears I am still grappling with.
I'm currently preparing a grief circle with ma-ta collective, hopefully this May or June. If it calls to you, stay tuned.
And if you feel a resonance, a stirring, or a shared longing — message me. Let’s co-create something brave together. With fear. And with courage. 🌿
May 1 Musing: On Wholeness and Shadows
Healing yourself is not fixing yourself.
There is no healing because there is nothing broken.
What we call healing is the remembrance that we are whole.
That even our shadows — fear, shame, guilt, grief — are part of our light.
We call ourselves lightworkers. But lightwork, as I understand it, does not mean avoiding darkness. It means bringing the shadow into the light — not to banish it, but to love it. It means holding ourselves and others accountable not out of punishment, but out of compassion.
To be whole is our birthright. It is what was severed by colonization, patriarchy, supremacy. But wholeness is always waiting to be remembered.
“To gain teeth is to become independent, for they sever your need of mother’s milk, and to be independent is a type of pain.” — Erik Hoel
And to lose our teeth again — in old age, in surrender — is to return. To the Mother.
Returning to Her,
Althea