Rooted and Rising

Starting my career as a community development worker exposed me to various modalities that supported my work, especially given that we were striving for systems change—something that demands a holistic and multi-layered approach. I remember how generous our benefactors were—not only providing resources but also investing in our development as individuals and professionals. We had access to coaching and counseling, which played a crucial role in helping us navigate the emotional and mental toll of the work and making sure we are able to process our experiences, grow in our roles, and sustain our commitment to the communities we serve. These spaces allowed us to reflect, learn, and stay grounded while remaining deeply connected to the mission. It reminded me that to truly serve others, we must also nurture ourselves.

Another transformative modality that was introduced to me early on was Ho‘oponopono and Meditation. I had always wanted to join the pro bono certification program to deepen my understanding, but at the time, my schedule and responsibilities didn’t allow for it. Thankfully, my colleagues supported me—they guided me and gave me a book that became my entry point to self-learning the practice. It turned out to be one of the best things I had ever learned. Ho‘oponopono and Meditation taught me how healing, forgiveness, and personal accountability could ripple outward and impact the communities I serve.

Fast forward to my transition into social entrepreneurship, I found myself once again needing inner clarity and spiritual grounding. That’s when the works of Caroline Myss, Eckhart Tolle, and Conversations with God came into my life. These teachings didn’t just comfort me—they equipped me. They gave me the language and framework to navigate the unknown, embrace a deeper sense of purpose, and lead with both heart and intention in this new chapter of my journey.

Adding to these experiences were the deep learnings I gained during my Master in Entrepreneurship, major in Social Enterprise Development. The program was thoughtfully designed—not just to sharpen our business acumen, but to ground us in meaningful, often overlooked themes: learning how to feel, how to think, how to listen—not just to others, but also to ourselves.

A significant part of that journey was dedicated to honing my intuition and foresight, deepening my self-awareness and acceptance. We even explored dream interpretation, archetypes, and other aspects of the spiritual path—something I found deeply nourishing. It was during this time that I was introduced to the Filipino archetype—a powerful framework that connects our personal journeys with our cultural roots and collective psyche.

In the Filipino archetype, we encounter figures like the Babaylan—the indigenous spiritual healer, wise woman, and community leader. I saw myself reflected in her: a bridge between worlds, a holder of wisdom, a nurturer of both people and vision. Embracing this archetype allowed me to see my work not only as service or strategy but as sacred—part of a larger flow that honors ancestry, land, and spirit.

It reminded me that social entrepreneurship is not just about innovation or systems—it’s also about remembering who we are, listening deeply to the rhythms of nature and community, and moving with intention and grace. This way of being, rooted in our own Filipino soul, continues to guide me as I walk this path—one that is not always easy, but always aligned with something greater than myself.

My fixation with the spiritual journey—particularly healing—didn’t stop there. It deepened when I took my Reiki Master Certification. That chapter was powerful and affirming, but even with all the effort and learning, I still felt there was something missing. I’ve come to accept that healing isn’t a destination; it’s a continuous, evolving process. One that I want to stay committed to, no matter how long it takes.

Some of my closest friends know how deeply curious I am about trauma—especially intergenerational trauma and how it shapes lives across generations. There’s something about understanding those invisible threads that connect us to the past, that helps me make sense of the present and imagine a better future.

I remember speaking to one of my aunts in Singapore, who works as an executive coach. During our conversation, I shared this passion of mine with her—fueled by the joy I felt just browsing the shelves in her guest room, overflowing with books on healing, consciousness, and transformation. It felt like a sanctuary.

Yes, I’m such a bookworm. I’ve always found comfort in books. But after my dad passed and throughout the pandemic, I struggled to read. It was hard to focus, and even harder to feel inspired. But little by little, I’ve been finding my way back—gently, without pressure. And that, too, has felt like a small but significant kind of healing.

My aunt was kind enough to recommend a few people I could learn from—mentors, thought leaders, and kindred spirits who are deeply immersed in this kind of inner work. We’ve since started exchanging books and references, and that simple act—of sharing knowledge and insight—has brought me so much joy.

What makes me genuinely happy now is that I can speak with more people about these things. Conversations around energy healing, intergenerational trauma, intuition, and inner work are no longer as heavy or isolating. In the past, talking about these topics felt like walking on eggshells. They weren’t part of the norm, and often, they were dismissed or labeled as weird.

But things are shifting. I’m finding my people—those who are also seeking, healing, remembering. And in those connections, I feel seen. I feel less alone. It’s been one of the most life-giving parts of my journey so far.

What excites me most is realizing that I’m not alone in this path. I have so many friends and connections—each one an expert or practitioner in their own field, yet somehow, all of our journeys intersect in this space of healing, consciousness, and transformation. Some are into bodywork, others in psychology, coaching, energy medicine, ancestral healing, or creative expression—and every conversation with them feels like a spark.

It’s beautiful how our unique experiences and expertise complement one another. We exchange stories, tools, and insights that deepen our understanding—not just of the work we do, but of who we are becoming. There’s a sense of mutual support and co-learning that energizes me.

For so long, I felt like these conversations had to be hidden in quiet corners. Now, they’re becoming part of the open, everyday spaces in my life—and I feel incredibly grateful for that.

It was in those moments—of stillness, reflection, and learning—that I realized how much inner work truly supports outer impact. And that, for me, is what sustainable social change is really made of.