Imua!

By Alex Keone Oldroyd, 2nd year MDP student

Last year I wrote a very optimistic post on this blog about the power of transformation in the face of disaster. When I revisit that post today, especially the line “I like to believe there is no loss, only opportunities for change,” I can’t help but chuckle, not because I now think what I wrote was naïve (even if it was quixotic), but because after a year of the pandemic it’s hard not to feel like part of me has been lost.

Months of zoom fatigue, social distancing (read: isolation), temporal distortion, pandemic overwork, executive dysfunction, and emotional fatigue gave me some serious burnout this winter. It was hard not to give into feelings of self-doubt and the despair of spending so much of a critical time in my life under pandemic paralysis. What would all of this mean for my future?

In my winter, it hardly felt like there was any sort of “transformation” that could come from wasted time. The me that last year believed that even amid disaster there was opportunity for constant progress now believed that this season of difficulty would dog me for decades.

Fortunately, both versions of me are wrong.

Burnout isn’t an easy thing to overcome. It usually begins with acknowledging that you’re burnt out, setting boundaries, taking time to reflect and rest, and rediscovering and refocusing on the meaning of your work. I’m fortunate that I had understanding professors, a strong support network, and a built-in change of pace at the end of the semester. But ironically, the thing that has helped me most is my field placement.

This summer I have the honor of working for Kamehameha Schools, a prominent Native Hawaiian private school system with a strong focus on community and deep connections to my own family history (my grandfather served as a headmaster for KS, and we are descended from the school’s founder). At first, I wasn’t sure how I would handle as serious an undertaking as a field placement after a difficult academic year, but the chance to work for KS was a gift too great to refuse.

My work is with the Strategy Intelligence team, whose mission is to keep KS futures-ready as the organization educates the next generation of Kanaka Maoli leaders and deepens their impact on the lāhui. My role is to provide research and engagement support on several strategic priorities from COVID-19 vaccination efforts to measures of economic wellbeing and beyond.

The work so far has been rewarding, but I feel I’ve gained far more than I’ve given. My mother likes to say that whenever she returns to Hawaiʻi her “blood sings.” That’s the best way I’ve found to describe my experience this summer. My placement has helped me reconnect with my sources of strength that have been eroded by the pandemic: a sense of purpose and momentum, mentorship, the ʻāina, the lāhui, my ancestors, and more. Staying connected to those sources are what will help me avoid future burnout and persevere amid an ever-uncerain future.

Iʻm less eager than I was before to claim that there is no loss, only opportunities for change. My ancestors knew well that sometimes the only way to make progress on the ocean was to go backward. They also understood that life has its cycles and seasons. Transformation is not a linear process of constant upward progress, but a cycle of growth and flourishing and decay and loss.

And if after disaster and burnout no transformation has come? Well, sooner or later the seasons change.