Remembering Where I Come From
I was born in Colombo, Sri Lanka, and my family's roots trace back to the island of Kayts in the northern part of Sri Lanka. Like many Tamil families, our story has been shaped by resilience, displacement, and the hope of building a safer future.
As political tensions grew and civil war unfolded, my family's journey eventually led us to Canada, where I arrived as a young teenager. I spent years learning how to belong in a new country, often trying to fit into a culture very different from the one I had known. It wasn't until adulthood that I found myself returning home in a different way—through my heritage, my spirituality, and the stories carried by those who came before me.
As I learned more about my family's history and the collective experiences of the Tamil community, I began to understand how survival can be lovingly passed from one generation to the next. Our parents and grandparents carried so much so that we could have opportunities they never did.
I carry deep gratitude for that.
Lately, I've found myself drawn more deeply toward my ancestors — learning to listen, to remember, and to explore what it means to feel connected to those who came before me. It's a relationship that continues to unfold, one I'm approaching with curiosity, reverence, and an open heart.
I don't have all the answers. I'm simply learning to make space for this connection in my own life, and to honour the stories, wisdom, and roots that have shaped who I am.
And I also believe my generation has been given a different invitation—not only to survive, but to heal.
That understanding continues to shape the way I move through the world.
Nature has become one of my greatest teachers. When I walk beneath the trees, I don't simply see a forest—I see every living thing fully expressing its own nature. Nothing is rushing to become something else. Nothing is questioning whether it belongs.
There is something profoundly healing in that.
You'll often find me wandering a forest trail, preparing a nourishing meal, steeping herbs into tea, or sharing food with the people I love. For me, these simple rituals aren't separate from healing—they're part of it. They remind me that caring for ourselves can be gentle, ordinary, and deeply sacred.
Remembering Who I Am
I never planned to become a Reiki Master. I was simply trying to find my way back to myself.
In many ways, this path found me.
My journey began with a simple desire to live more intentionally. I enrolled in yoga and Ayurveda training because I wanted to understand my body better — to nourish it well, move with greater awareness, and create healthier rhythms in my life.
What I didn't expect was how much these practices would change the way I related to myself.
Through breathwork, meditation, and a growing commitment to slowing down, I began to notice the difference between moving through life on autopilot and being truly present in my own experience. I started making room for stillness, listening more closely to my body, and finding my way back to parts of myself that had been lost in the constant doing.
Healing, for me, became less about becoming someone new and more about remembering who I was beneath the noise.
Around that same time, Reiki naturally found its way into my life. I began offering distance sessions out of a genuine desire to share a practice that had become meaningful to me. As I continued learning and practicing, my relationship with Reiki deepened, along with my trust in the quiet process of showing up, being present, and allowing space for what unfolds.
This path continues to evolve, and I'm grateful to be learning as I go.
Motherhood has deepened my understanding of life's many layers. Becoming a mother to my beautiful daughter has been one of my greatest gifts. During that same season, I also experienced the heartbreaking loss of my beloved sister.
Holding new life while grieving profound loss reminded me that the heart has room for both joy and sorrow. We don't always need to resolve what we're feeling or find meaning in it straight away. Sometimes, we simply need the space to let ourselves feel.
Remembering What Has Always Been Within
I don't believe we need to be fixed.
Sometimes, we simply need the space to pause.
Space to breathe, to soften, to move, to rest, and to reconnect with ourselves beneath the demands of everyday life.
Earth to Aether was born from my own relationship with these practices and my desire to share them with others. Through Reiki, meditation, breathwork, and gentle mindful movement, I hope to create a space where you can arrive just as you are — without the pressure to have everything figured out or to be anything other than yourself.
There is no expectation to feel a certain way, reach a particular outcome, or leave with all the answers. You might find yourself drawn to stillness. You might need movement. You might simply want a moment where you don't have to hold everything together.
Whatever brings you here, you're welcome to meet yourself where you are.
My own journey continues to deepen my appreciation for the connections that shape us — our relationship with ourselves, the natural world, our roots, and the stories carried through our families and ancestors.
I feel particularly drawn to the experiences of those navigating identity, belonging, and ancestral connection, especially within the Tamil community and among children of immigrant families. This is an area I'm continuing to explore in my own life, and one I hold close to my heart.
Earth to Aether isn't about telling you who to become. It's an invitation to create room for yourself — to listen, to explore, to release what you're ready to release, and to discover what feels meaningful to you.
Sometimes, remembering is enough.
Thank you for being here.
With love,
Subi (Stephanie) A.
An Invitation to Begin
Healing isn’t about having all the answers.
It’s about creating space to listen—to your body, your heart, and the quite wisdom already within you.
If you feel called to work together, I’d be honoured to walk alongside you.