What Remains in the Garden

After a brief illness, Hazakyah Hardy Dia passed away on May 18th, 2026, early in the morning.

It was not long after I met Hazakyah that we started talking about metamorphosis. Somewhere along the way, it became our name — how we referred to our collective works, our website, our plans for a campground, our publications, the CRWN Centre, our work within the boxing community, our teachings, the eventual securement of the land now known as Metamorphosis GCA, and so much more: growth, change, and action.

But today, I am still.

Today I have no plans. No desire to change, no desire to grow, no desire for action. For each of these brings me a step further away from the last moments I spent with my soul brother, my guide, and my companion on this crazy path called life.

My heart is aching, and I know I am not alone.

Hazakyah was a powerful man. He commanded respect by giving respect. In the last few years, he became quieter, keeping more to himself. He would say that he was the first and most loyal client of Metamorphosis GCA — acting not only as a steward of the land, but as a client, finding healing in nature in ways that still make me laugh.

He would hand-trim every blade of grass with a pair of kitchen shears. His watering system consisted of old soap bottles filled with water mixed with oregano and cinnamon — his magic potion to keep the garden healthy. He braided trees together to create walls and canopies. And he grew food. Almonds, avocado, chinola, and hidden throughout the garden are countless mango trees from a particularly juicy and prolific batch of mangos we once shared together.

It was only in his more recent years that Hazakyah found this place to bond with so deeply. Yet even before then, he was the embodiment of growth, change, and action. Choosing to serve Yah as a young man, Hazakyah left no stone unturned in his lifelong effort to serve peace and bring joy and magic through his teaching, his music, and the way he lived.

The lives he changed through his guidance and teachings are impossible to measure. Students around the world were blessed by his unique way of teaching, encouraging them to believe in possibilities for themselves and to move toward their dreams.

Someone, somewhere, probably knows the exact timeline of all of this better than I do. But amidst all of it, he had a family — two sons and two daughters, a wife in the Dominican Republic, and an ongoing friendship with the mother of his children. He had brothers and a sister.

His children are mourning the loss of their Abba while also learning more about him through the stories of his friends and extended family. They lived with him. They know his philosophies, his humour, his views, and they are missing him deeply.

To them, I send love and peace. No relationship in this world is quite the same as the one shared with the person who watched you grow up and loved you unconditionally. He is your Abba, and he will always be with you.

One cannot speak about Hazakyah without mentioning his true home — the Negev Desert in Israel. A place where he wandered for years, learning about himself and his service to Yah. He claimed he never once got lost there, even bragging that he could sneak up on the Bedouins living in the desert.

I have never been there.

That was one of our plans cut short.

But I imagine the rocks. Hazakyah loved rocks — collected them, built with them, carried them in his backpack. So in my mind there are endless rocks there, and buildings rising out of the sand in the very same colour as the desert itself. I imagine him sitting there with a friend, guitar in hand, making music beneath that wide desert sky.

Oh, how badly I wanted to visit his desert with him as my guide.

But alas, I have only the stories he shared and the friends he left behind.

And so now I look forward.

Committed to the work we started together. Committed to the community we are building, to our extended family, and to sustainability. He said many times over the past year that he trusted me to make the decisions, to carry the vision, and to share the land.

I need growth to live.

I need change to live.

I need action to live.

I will move forward, and I will take my time, because I am recalibrating.

I know Hazakyah is still with me. It is when I feel his energy closest that I am moved most deeply to tears, and I know that will continue for some time. Yet this new energy feels stronger somehow — more directed. And with each passing day, I will grow into it. I will allow it to change me in positive ways.

And there will be many more activities, many more gatherings, and much more life flowing through Metamorphosis GCA.

To honour the passing of our co-founder, we are changing the logo. One of the three blue seeds — each representing one of the three founders — will now become a white seed, representing the purity of his soul and the eternity of his spirit.