The Long Story of Sunrise

The story of Sunrise is a retrospective.

Sunrise was originally created to accompany Midnight, a candle for those quiet moments of inspiration at night.

Midnight came from my fascination with the universe and the feeling I get when I look up into the night sky. There is something about looking into something so vast and incomprehensible that makes me feel connected to something bigger than myself.

Once I created Midnight, I knew I had to create Sunrise to complete it.

Like Yin and Yang, and all the other magical balances that exist in life. Winter and summer. Water and fire. Night and day. Midnight and Sunrise.

That was the original intention behind Sunrise. A sense of completing something.

The interesting part came afterwards.

In a way, Sunrise became an amazing validation of one of the core beliefs behind why I create my candles in the first place: appreciating the small moments can bring a little more magic into our lives.

Noticing the small and positive things can change the way we experience life.

Sunrise is a good example of this.

Though my original intention for creating this candle was simple, the story that came after it is what really made this candle special simply through noticing the small things where we starts to attract magic.

–

Many years ago, I painted a little picture.

It’s a little house with white walls and a red roof, tucked away at the end of a big open field of poppies. Behind the little house, there are mountains disappearing into the distance.

There was no particular intention behind it, and no artist statement. I simply thought it was a nice scene.

It’s pretty.

That little painting had been sitting in storage, or somewhere in my room, for years. I never really felt a strong connection to it, nor did I feel particularly proud of it. I never had the urge to properly display it on my wall.

It was just quietly sitting somewhere in my life.

I must have still been at university when I painted it. Since then, quite a lot has happened.

I graduated. Found a job in advertising. Tried to start my candle brand as a side hustle multiple times. Launched it, stopped working on it, and launched From Yaya again.

I progressed fast in my career in a relatively short period of time. I went through existential crises, spiritual awakenings and mental breakdowns. I got back on my feet, fell apart again, found my way back to myself, and experienced many other things that I probably won't fit into this story.

An eventful few years, to say the least.

But nothing of particular significance happened with that little painting. Not until around a year after Sunrise was created.

During a trip to Edinburgh, I visited the Scottish National Gallery. As I walked in front of a painting by Seurat, I was amazed by how extremely familiar it felt.

It looked like my little picture.

The same composition. The same open field filled with red flowers. And at the end of it, the same little house.

I remember looking at it and thinking, what are the chances?

There is a profound feeling that comes with a synchronicity. That strange moment where something inside you says, I know this is something. I know I am supposed to notice this.

And this was one of those moments.

Because when you think about all the things I could have painted, the possibilities are infinite. I could have painted a blank canvas, a still life of an orange, a tree, anything.

And somehow, years earlier, I had painted this little house in this particular landscape. And then, years later, I found myself standing in front of something so strangely similar that was painted over a hundred years ago.

But perhaps the timing was the most interesting part.

By the time I saw Seurat's painting, I had already been through years of feeling lost and disoriented. I didn't really know what I wanted from my life and often felt like I was simply reacting to whatever was happening around me.

I felt exhausted and burnt out. I had lost a lot of my zest for life.

But slowly, I had started to feel better.

Not because life had suddenly become perfect, but because I had started to know myself better.

I was beginning to understand what fuels me. What gives me energy. What makes me feel content. What makes me feel like myself.

I had started paying attention to that little "spidy" intuition I get when I feel something in my stomach and just know that I want to pursue it.

The things that feel right. The things that feel aligned with what brings me the greatest sense of contentment.

Shortly before that trip to Edinburgh, I had started to realise that I wanted a very different kind of life for myself.

I wanted a cottage in nature. I wanted to grow my own food and create my own version of slow living.

I wanted to surround my home with things I had made myself, things I had collected over the years, things with stories behind them and a little bit of loving energy attached to them.

I wanted a life that is personal to me, intentional and slow.

So when I walked in front of Seurat's painting, something about seeing that little house felt like a validation of the life I had started to imagine for myself.

It felt like the universe had sent me a sign that I couldn't quite ignore.

But for those who don't believe in the universe, God, or anything particularly "woo woo", there is another way to interpret this.

Seeing Seurat's painting simply revealed a long-suppressed and forgotten sense of direction.

The coincidence brought something to the surface that my subconscious had been trying to tell me for years.

In that sense, the feeling of an epiphany, and that strange sense of something bigger, is the relief of a subconscious that had spent years telling me what gives me joy and peace.

And there is something quite profound about the fact that it was through art that I found it.

Art is one of the few spaces where we can express ourselves without the usual expectations placed on us by life.

Our salaries, job, responsibilities. The things we are supposed to want. The things we are supposed to become.

Somewhere in that space of simply making something because I thought it was beautiful, I had unknowingly left a little clue for myself.

A little house on a hill.

And years later, I finally and genuinely started to understand.

—

After the trip to Edinburgh, I have had two chances to engage with Tarot card, either through a quick curious one card of the day or my mum pulling cards out with the intention to know what my future hold (on my birthday).

Ten of Cups have been chosen on both occasions. 

The card represents emotional fulfilment. Love, family connections and a deep sense of inner peace coming together.

And, crazily enough, in the illustration of the card, there is that same little house.

White walls, red roof, quietly sitting on a hill.

And then there is Sunrise.

On the Sunrise candle, which I decorated with my own original illustration, there is the same little house on the hill. The sun is rising in the distance, casting a long shadow across the ground.

I had completely forgotten about the little house on Sunrise until I noticed it again after the experience with Seurat and Tarot card.

It’s my perspective and intentionally living my life that changed my experience. the little house had been quietly appearing in different parts of my life for years, and I simply wasn't seeing it.

—

Sunrise now is my favourite candle to burn in the morning, I feel appreciative to what I have and it reminds me my goal in life.

It sets me up to another day ahead that’s not just ‘another’ day, it’s another day that I can live intentionally and it constantly reminds me of that.

From,

Yaya