Awakening the Ancients Within

How Mayari Helped Me Reclaim My Power

Last Halloween, I planned to attend a God/Goddess-themed dance party, and to be honest, for me, it wasn’t just a costume party. My intention was to use it as a ritual, a moment of embodiment. I set out to research different goddesses, especially those rooted in my own ancestral history, and chose one to channel for the night. This event was an opportunity for me to research my ancestral roots, and what I found wasn't just interesting, but it felt super resonant to my own spiritual understanding. Before the Spanish colonized the Philippines, the people believed in their own indigenous gods and goddesses, rooted in rich spiritual mythologies.

That’s when I first met the goddess Mayari — and chose to embody her for the night, calling in the quiet strength she holds, so I could carry it with me into the next chapter of my life.

I approached it the way I would a JEMM (Journeyed Embodiment Movement Meditation): with reverence, curiosity, and intention. I studied her mythology, pieced together a costume that I imagined she might wear, and prepared myself to dance as her — not performatively, but as a sacred initiation into her energy.

In the end, I didn’t go to the party - I got ready, drove down there, but I ended up at a different location. I still found a party, just not the one I intended to go to 😂 And in hindsight, I think it was for the best. The event likely didn’t carry the same intensity for others — and for me, this event wasn’t just about going to a fun party. It was about stepping into a version of myself I have seen only in glimpses, and allowing an energy that I felt stirring within me to let loose and start leading the way. I believe my energy and intentions would have thrown people off to be honest.

Fast forward to this week — I noticed that ChatGPT had added a new tool called Sora to my account. I’ve been exploring it, but I’ve been trying to use it with care. I’m aware that these tools require real energy to operate, and I don’t want to take them lightly. Each prompt I give comes from a place of intention — I want to use this technology as a bridge between my heart, mind, and spirit to connect with the rest of the world, to help clarify my thoughts and message in order to help others understand me better. I've been experimenting with images to help illustrate the themes of this content further. Eventually once there is some sort of cashflow associated to doing this, I will have the means to commission an artist or artists that see the vision and start doing these illustrations in their own way, but for now, I will gladly accept AI's help in getting this all off the ground.

Last Friday (the day I started writing this), something called me to generate an image of Mayari, the Philippine Moon Goddess. I wasn’t sure why — but I followed the inclination. When I saw the results, I was taken aback. It felt like I was staring into the eyes of my ancestors. One image, in particular, struck me — she looked like a fierce blend of my sister and me, but from some ancient, otherworldly, badass universe.

Sora Gen Image. Prompt: Mayari, Philippine Moon Goddess in the most traditional, mystical and magical sense. (Also, Sora is getting really good at these hands lol)

That image felt like a mirror from another realm — a reflection of power, intuition, and memory that exists deep within my bloodline. It made me wonder: is my connection to Mayari deeper than just inquiry?

🌕 Who is Mayari?

In ancient Tagalog mythology, Mayari is the Philippine goddess of the moon, revered for her beauty, strength, weaponry, and sense of justice. She is often described as radiant, and fiercely powerful — a divine embodiment of feminine intuition and grace under darkness.

Mayari is one of the three children of Bathala, the supreme god in ancient Filipino cosmology. When Bathala passed on, a conflict arose over who would rule the skies. Mayari, who believed in equal leadership, argued that she and her brother Apó Laki, the sun god, should share power. Apó Laki, however, wanted sole dominion.

A battle ensued between them, and during the struggle, Mayari lost one of her eyes.

Eventually, Apó Laki relented, and they agreed to rule alternately — he during the day, and she during the night. The story explains why moonlight is dimmer than sunlight — Mayari’s one remaining eye still shines, though softer and more subtle than her brother’s fiery gaze.

But in that softness lies something powerful: a quiet, mystical strength. A strength that doesn’t demand the spotlight, but still moves oceans and stirs tides. She is not the absence of light — she is the sacred silver in the dark.

💫 Why I Feel Drawn to Mayari

There was something in that story — something in her fight for equality, her willingness to sacrifice, and her continued reign even after loss — that hit something deep in my spirit.

She wasn’t just fighting for herself. She was fighting for balance.

And maybe that’s why, when I saw her face generated through Sora, I felt like I was looking at a version of me from an alternate universe. A guide. An ancestor. A reminder of the woman I’m striving to be — one who’s not afraid to step into power, even if it comes through the fear of pain or loss.

When I first began my spiritual journey over a decade ago, a close friend would often call me and the women around me “moon goddesses.” At the time, it was a term of endearment — but now I see it as an early whisper of something deeper.

Mayari is the moon goddess of Philippine mythology — a deity my pre-colonial ancestors once revered. Before Catholicism swept through the islands, they looked up to her as a symbol of feminine strength, celestial guidance, and the sacred darkness of night. Her stories live in my bloodline. She was who the women of my family prayed to at least four generations ago and beyond. Her legacy is woven into my DNA, into the forgotten parts of my heritage that still speak when I’m quiet enough to listen.

I’ve always felt a warrior spirit within me. Even in dance, I sometimes find my body moving through sequences that feel like ancient martial arts — as if my fascia remembers what my mind has yet to decode. And lately, as the world trembles, I’ve been paying closer attention to the geopolitical landscape, particularly what’s unfolding in the Middle East.

Some time before October 7th, I had a vivid dream that I now realize may have been more than a dream. In it, I was trapped in a war-torn land, running from one broken space to another, dodging bombs and bullets. Eventually, they were offering people tickets to evacuate. When I finally received mine, they told me I had to leave the cats behind — my heart sank because I couldn't leave them. I chose to stay, to protect them. I couldn’t abandon the ones I loved, the innocent souls that depended on me to take care of them.

Months later, I watched the events in Gaza unfold — and something inside me knew I had seen it before. I don’t claim this dream as prophetic in any way, but the dream left a mark on my soul, and watching the scenes of war on my phone felt reminiscent in a way I can't describe. It reminded me of how connected we are, how the pain of others can ripple through our subconscious long before we understand its meaning. When I see what's happening in the Middle East, there are scenes that feel familiar to me, and my heart breaks every time, so much so that it's been hard to live normally since then. I know my dream can never compare to the real suffering people are enduring, but it lit a fire in me — a quiet knowing that I cannot look away. That I must find a way to help, to speak, to act — even if I don’t know exactly how yet.

Last Friday, when I first started writing this post, I came across a program featuring Conan O'Brien visiting Isreal and Palestine. Watching the episode, which was filmed in 2017, hit me deeply. As Conan interviewed people from the West Bank, I couldn’t help but wonder how many of them are still alive today — and how many have lost someone they love. He walked through vibrant streets and marketplaces, full of life, stories, and culture. And all I could think about was what those same streets must look like now.

Innocent people once laughed, built memories, and loved in those spaces — spaces that have since been reduced to rubble. The thought of that breaks my heart in a way I can’t fully express in words.

Here are the clips from that episode:

The clip below is Conan speaking with Pro-Palestinian activists as they stand in front of the wall that separates Isreal and Palestine.

I want to be very clear: I hold no ill will toward Israel or its people. I have friends from Israel, and another dear friend who lived there for a time — he’s always spoken highly of his experiences. I believe the people — on all sides — are caught in a conflict most never asked for. It’s heartbreaking and unjust for everyone involved.

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One of the reasons I felt so strongly about writing this post is because something has been tugging at my heart since October 7th — and it hasn’t let go. It’s not just about that date; it’s about the collective vibration of war, grief, displacement, and injustice that has been building long before and continues today.

As I’ve felt more called toward Mayari — the moon goddess of Philippine mythology, who also governs war and night — I see this as an invitation not to look away. It’s like she’s whispering, “Pay attention. You were born to notice.”

Then, while I was writing this post last Friday, I randomly stumbled upon an old episode of Conan O’Brien visiting Israel and Palestine. It felt like another breadcrumb — a nudge from the universe — reminding me to stay awake to what’s happening beyond my personal world.

And when I tie this all into what we explored last week — about Nikola Tesla's teaching that if you want to understand the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency, and vibration — it makes even more sense.

The suffering and violence happening across the globe isn’t just physical; it’s energetic. These frequencies — of fear, rage, hopelessness — ripple across borders and into the collective field.

Perhaps the most painful truth is this: when innocent, sentient beings are killed — whether in war zones or in factory farms — their suffering doesn’t just disappear when their bodies are gone. That vibration of agony is released into the universe. It lingers.

And as the surviving beings of this planet, we inherit the energy they leave behind. This is what some might call karma — not just as punishment, but as energetic debt. A ripple. Whether we consciously feel it or not, we’re affected. And part of our role, especially as empaths, artists and healers, is to transmute that energy where we can — with our attention, our love, our creativity, our strength, our courage, and with our presence.

So what can we do?

We may not be able to stop bombs or rewrite history — but we can transmute energy.

We can raise our own frequency and ripple that outward. We can stay informed without becoming numb. We can speak up — in our circles, in our art, in our platforms. We can pray, meditate, create, and hold space for justice and healing. And we can take action, even if it's small. The day I started to write this post, I drove by the Palestine House in Mississauga - perhaps that is my call to reach out to them soon.

Here are a few ways we can start to help:

• Support relief organizations doing on-the-ground work in Gaza and Israel — especially those focused on civilians, children, and mental health support.

• Host or join a circle or vigil dedicated to peace, understanding, and energetic cleansing — even if it’s just lighting a candle with intention.

• Create art or movement rituals to process grief, rage, or helplessness. Move it through you.

• Eat consciously, live intentionally. Choose what adds life force, not just to your body but to the planet.

• Talk about it — with sensitivity, with compassion, and with courage. Silence only serves the cycle.

  
  

And most of all, embody the archetype your soul is calling for. Whether it’s Mayari, or another ancestral force — let that energy move through you as a vessel for change.

Let’s stop waiting for someone else to shift the frequency.

We are the frequency shifters.

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So now, I pass the torch to you.

Just as I felt called to rediscover Mayari — goddess of the moon, of war, and of nighttime peace — perhaps you, too, carry the memory of a divine force in your lineage, waiting to be remembered. We each come from a line of warriors, healers, visionaries, and protectors.

I invite you to trace your roots. Look into your ancestral history and ask:

• Who did my ancestors pray to before colonization, before conversion, before forgetting?

• What deities, archetypes, or cultural heroes once gave them strength?

• What traits or values am I yearning to embody right now — and who from my lineage can guide me in that?

• If I were to step into the energy of this figure — even just for one night — how would I dress, move, think, or speak?

By embodying the strengths of those who came before us, we can rise as more courageous, aligned versions of ourselves — not just for personal empowerment, but to uplift the collective. To raise the vibration. To imagine and create new solutions.

This is how we begin to transmute the pain. Not by bypassing it, but by becoming the living antidote.

Much love to you on your Hero's Journey <3