When was the last time you looked up at the stars?
It’s one of my favorite things to do when I’m in the villages. Especially in Kalimantan and Flores—where the night sky stretches endlessly, revealing what feels like the entire universe.
For millennia, our ancestors have done the same. Looking up in wonder, searching for meaning. Trying to understand their place in all of this. Seeking direction, longing for belonging.
They remind us that we are part of something far greater than ourselves. That no matter how uncertain life feels, we each have a place in this vast universe. A unique journey to follow.
But there was a time I forgot.
In the beginning of the pandemic, when everything felt uncertain, the calls started coming in. The Ibus, the women who craft our clothes, were worried—wondering if we would continue. If they would still have work. Many had become the sole providers for their families, and the weight of that responsibility fell heavy on my heart.
I was worried too. For overnight, our income sources evaporated. I was not sure how long I could keep this going. Whether we should just hibernate until things get better.
There were moments I wondered if it would be easier to just quit. To get a job somewhere and not have to bear the burden of knowing hundreds of families were relying on me.
On nights like those, I would sit on my balcony, staring at the sky. And in the stillness, I realized—I wasn’t looking at the stars alone. Somewhere, in the villages, the Ibus were looking up too. And perhaps, somewhere else in the world, someone like me—overwhelmed, searching for clarity—was doing the same.
That was the moment I decided: We keep going.
ANGKASA was born from this moment.
I wanted us to craft a reminder of what truly matters. Of our North Star—the purpose that, no matter how hard, is worth fighting for. For nothing worthwhile is ever easy.
In Javanese philosophy, there is the concept of Bapak Angkasa, Ibu Pertiwi—the Father Sky and Mother Earth. A belief that life exists in harmony between the two, that we are forever connected between the vast unknown above and the grounding presence of the earth below.
It is this balance that guided me in that moment of doubt. The stars above reminding me of the infinite possibilities ahead, the Ibus on the ground anchoring me to the purpose of why I started.
And as we celebrate our 5th anniversary, I couldn’t think of a more meaningful time to share it with you. Because through a dark and uncertain year, ANGKASA became more than just a motif.
It became a symbol of hope.
For the hundreds of families in our villages who grew, crafted, and stitched it with their hands. For our entire team, as we held onto its message—trusting that even in the unknown, we are guided. That we belong. That we are connected.
It’s what gave us the strength to focus on what we could control. To stand for something bigger than our fears and doubts. And this August, we saw the first glimpses of what’s possible when we choose faith over fear.
ANGKASA is deeply personal to me. Because I believe many of our struggles—both personal and global—stem from a lost connection. Not just with nature or community, but with ourselves.
Sounds a bit spacey?
Think about it: Just as city lights drown out the stars, the noise of modern life drowns out our inner voice. The one that knows who we are meant to be.
And when we lose that connection, we start looking outward. Comparing. Chasing things we think we should want. Feeling the weight of expectations. Dulling the emptiness with more—only to feel more lost than before.
ANGKASA reminds us of our purpose. Of looking inward, listening deeply, and realigning with what truly matters. Of finding the courage to follow our own path, even when it’s the one less taken.
Because when we do, one day we’ll look back and see how the dots have connected—leading us exactly where we were meant to be.
With love and stardust,
Your nerd,
D
P.S. Find your stars.
