We Were Never Meant to Do This Alone

We were never meant to do this alone.

There is a myth we’ve inherited.

Not carved in stone, but etched into the rhythm of modern life.

It whispers through timelines and tax forms, corporate ladders and productivity hacks:

“You are on your own.”

If you succeed — you did it.

If you fail — you deserved it.

If you’re tired, keep pushing.

If you need help, stay silent.

If you fall apart — do it privately.

This myth didn’t start with us. But most of us live inside it, exhausted by its terms.

It came with conquest.

It came with colonization and capitalism, with fenced-in property and privatized healing.

It came with the fracturing of kin systems, the exile of elders, the erasure of community wisdom.

It came when the village was broken apart and the individual was crowned sovereign — but left starving.

And the cruelest part?

We were taught to call this freedom.

But The Created Life remembers something older.

It is not a life of radical independence, but of radical interbeing.

Not the illusion of self-made success, but the truth of co-created becoming.

The Created Life says: You are not alone. You never were.

It remembers that the dream was never yours alone to carry.

That we heal in the presence of others.

That grief needs hands to hold it.

That joy is meant to be shared.

That wisdom doesn’t live in isolation — it lives in the spaces between us.

It is not weakness to need.

It is not failure to lean.

It is not shameful to ask.

It is human.

It is sacred.

It is how we were designed.

Even the breath reminds us: in, out — give, receive — a shared rhythm.

But we forgot.

Because the systems we live inside reward hyper-independence.

Because whiteness taught us to isolate.

Because capitalism taught us to compete.

Because trauma taught us to protect ourselves by not needing anyone.

So we armour up. We perform resilience. We call ourselves strong — but what we often mean is alone.

And yet somewhere, deep in our bones, we still remember the circle.

We remember communal fires and shared meals, elders who held space, rituals where our pain was seen and sanctified. We remember grandmothers who rubbed our backs, and friends who stayed when our dreams crumbled.

We remember the village — because it lives in us still.

The Created Life is not a brand. It is a remembering.

A reweaving of the sacred human truth: We were never meant to do this alone.

Not birth.

Not love.

Not death.

Not healing.

Not dreaming.

Not the messy middle parts either — the liminal, the in-between.

We are meant to build this life together — through song, through struggle, through showing up. Through sacred reciprocity and shared becoming.

The Created Life doesn’t mean outsourcing your power.

It means recognizing that your power is amplified in community.

That your healing is magnified when witnessed.

That your dreams are more real when held by others.

So let this be your permission — to reach, to ask, to allow.

To be fully human in a world that forgot what that means.

Come home.

To the village.

To the round.

To I&I.