singapore – Notes from Alex

Embracing Uniqueness in the Mist of Metlakatla

In the heart of Metlakatla, where the mist clings to ancient cedar trees and the whispers of legends echo through the fjords, there lived a young girl named Kaya. She was different—her eyes held the colors of the midnight sky, and her laughter danced like the northern lights.

Kaya’s uniqueness set her apart from the other children in the village. While they played hide-and-seek among the totem poles, she wandered along the rocky shore, collecting seashells and listening to the secrets carried by the waves. Her grandmother, Tala, recognized this difference and encouraged it.

“Kaya,” Tala would say, “our people have always been the keepers of stories. We weave them into our blankets, carve them into our canoes, and sing them under the moon. Your difference is a gift—a bridge between our past and our future.”

But Kaya didn’t always feel like a bridge. At school, her classmates teased her for her quiet nature and her fascination with the old legends. They called her “Sky-Eyes” and laughed when she spoke of the Raven Clan and the spirit bears. Kaya longed to fit in, to be like the others—to blend seamlessly into the fabric of the community.

One day, during the annual Salmon Festival, Kaya watched as her peers danced in a circle, their laughter rising like smoke from a cedar fire. She stood on the outskirts, feeling like an outsider. The rhythm of the drums pulsed through her veins, urging her to join, but doubt held her back.

That’s when she noticed an old man sitting on a driftwood log. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his hands bore the scars of countless fishing seasons. Kaya approached him, drawn by the wisdom etched into his weathered face.

“Are you not dancing, child?” he asked, his voice as gentle as the breeze.

Kaya hesitated. “I don’t belong,” she confessed. “I’m different.”

The old man chuckled. “Different? Ah, that’s a word for storytellers. You see, Kaya, the salmon don’t all swim the same way. Some leap waterfalls, while others find hidden coves. But they all return to their roots—their spawning grounds. You, my dear, are like a salmon with sky-colored scales. Embrace your journey.”

His words stayed with Kaya. She began to write down the legends she heard from Tala—the tale of the Thunderbird and the Whale, the song of the cedar flute, and the flight of the first raven. She painted these stories on canvas, capturing the magic of her heritage.

Soon, the village noticed. Kaya’s art adorned the community center, and people gathered to listen as she recited the old tales. She wasn’t just different; she was a bridge—a storyteller who wove threads of memory into the fabric of the present.

And so, Kaya danced. Not in circles, but along the shore, her feet sinking into the sand. She swirled like the aurora borealis, celebrating her uniqueness. The other children joined her, their laughter blending with the rhythm of the waves.

Kaya learned that fitting in wasn’t about becoming like everyone else; it was about finding her place within the grand tapestry of Metlakatla. She realized that being different was not a flaw—it was her superpower.

And as the seasons turned, Kaya’s eyes continued to hold the colors of the midnight sky, reflecting the stories of her ancestors. She knew then that she was not just okay; she was extraordinary.

And so, in the heart of Metlakatla, where the mist clings to ancient cedar trees, Kaya danced—her laughter echoing through time, a bridge between worlds.

“The Flight Within”

In the heart of Metlakatla, nestled among ancient cedar trees, lived a young woman named Kaya. She was a proud member of the Tsimshian tribe, deeply connected to her heritage and the wisdom passed down through generations. Kaya’s spirit soared like the eagles that graced the skies above her village.

But life wasn’t always smooth for Kaya. She faced storms within—emotional tempests that threatened to tear her apart. The weight of expectations, loss, and self-doubt pressed upon her shoulders. Yet, Kaya knew that just as the salmon returned to their spawning grounds, she too could find her way back to inner strength.

One crisp morning, Kaya stood at the edge of the ocean, watching the waves crash against the rocks. She longed for clarity, a beacon to guide her through the fog of her mind. And then, an old fisherman approached her.

“Kaya,” he said, his eyes crinkling with age, “the sea teaches us resilience. It endures storms, yet remains vast and unyielding. So must you.”

He handed her a smooth stone—a worry stone, he called it. “Hold this when your thoughts churn like the tides. Let it absorb your fears, and when you’re ready, cast it back into the water.”

Kaya clutched the stone, its coolness grounding her. She practiced mindfulness, focusing on each breath, each heartbeat. She danced with the wind, her feet rooted in the earth, and whispered gratitude to the cedar trees.

As seasons changed, Kaya explored other paths to mental wellness. She joined a community drum circle, feeling the rhythm resonate within her chest. She painted her dreams onto canvas, releasing emotions like colors onto a palette. And when the nights grew long, she sat by the fire, listening to elders’ stories—tales of resilience, survival, and kinship.

One day, Kaya met a pilot named Elias. His eyes held the vastness of the sky, and he spoke of freedom found in flight. Elias invited her to soar with him, promising that the cockpit was a sanctuary where worries dissolved like morning mist.

Kaya hesitated. Fear clung to her like barnacles on driftwood. But she remembered the worry stone, the drumbeats, and the elders’ wisdom. She climbed into the small plane, Elias at the controls. As they ascended, Kaya’s heart raced, yet she felt strangely calm.

The world transformed from a patchwork of forests and fjords to an expansive canvas. Kaya saw her village, the cedar longhouses, and the salmon-filled streams. She glimpsed her own struggles—a turbulent river winding through her soul. But up here, the river narrowed, its rapids smoothing into serenity.

Elias turned to her. “Kaya, flying isn’t just about the sky. It’s about trusting the currents, adjusting course, and finding balance.”

And so, Kaya learned to navigate her inner skies. She adjusted her mental altitude, seeking clarity above the clouds of doubt. She banked left when negativity threatened to pull her down, and right when hope beckoned.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kaya felt a sense of completion. She had flown within herself, discovering resilience, purpose, and the power of community. The worry stone, the drumbeats, and the elders’ stories—they were her co-pilots.

Back on solid ground, Kaya held the worry stone one last time. She cast it into the ocean, watching it sink. The waves carried her fears away, leaving only strength in their wake.

And so, Kaya’s flight within continued—a journey toward mental health, guided by ancestral whispers and the promise of open skies.

Tag: singapore

Sky-Eyes: A Bridge of Legends

The Flight Within