becoming- a portrait of reflections
So, what is this pilgrimage of becoming, which sometimes feels like misty mildew floating across an autumnal morning?
What does it mean to grow older at my age, this a question I’ve pondered for the past few months. Scanning through my journals, I stumbled upon a note about my hopes for my forties. It’s no surprise that my younger self emphasised conventional life milestones. The aspirations back then revolved around societal expectations. As I revisited these thoughts, I chuckled, wondering if I was truly the author of those words. Well, it was indeed me.
Life's grace as I age is a tender awareness and acceptance of all the past selves within me—those who existed thrived, and continue to evolve. I am profoundly grateful that my present self can embrace the younger versions of me. These selves, all woven together, form the intricate designs of my being, changing with each passing day. The journey of self-discovery is akin to a pilgrimage, a long and meandering path.
So, what is this pilgrimage of becoming, which sometimes feels like misty mildew floating across an autumnal morning?
Forties may bear the weight of unique challenges, yet life’s burdens and heartaches of the past selves gradually fade. Growing older is undoubtedly a privilege. In my journey of becoming, it feels like I’ve completed a full circle for this phase of my life.
I’ve discarded the shiny societal definitions of success that once held sway over me. I believe I’ve found my Ikigai, even if it’s late according to societal norms. I’ve embarked on a journey to honour my creative spirit, and it hasn’t been without its challenges. Trusting myself and venturing down this path of growing older means acknowledging the various inner selves that have led me to this point in life. Someday, I will reach my Ithaca. As I embark on this journey, I’m filled with memories of all the selves that have existed and persevered to shape the person I am today.
Throughout different phases of life, different versions of myself dominated and took charge. There was the teenage self with limited agency, the twenty-something self marked by trauma and confusion, and the thirties defined by chasing corporate ambitions with misguided determination—all contributing to this current self who has finally found the river beneath the river, as described by Clarissa Pinkola Estés in her book.
I realise I am so much more, even if I don’t fit society’s standards of success. I’ve found belonging and acceptance within myself during this challenging yet precious year.
The birthday week, reminiscent of my childhood days, unfolds before me—a week adorned with my mother’s gift of celebration. My younger self craved external celebrations. I eagerly anticipated the cake Mama would bake, the gifts I would receive, and the gatherings she would arrange with my friends. The vivid memories of my second birthday are imprinted on my mind like a recent event. This week, I aim to honour the true essence of celebrations that my parents perhaps wanted me to grasp. It’s about celebrating all the facets and selves that make me who I am today. I want to celebrate myself and the known and unknown faces who have shaped me in this journey.
My journey of becoming would not have unfolded as it did if my better half hadn’t supported me through the past few years of our life in this unfamiliar country. I must take a moment to celebrate my husband, whose birthday falls just a day before mine, for his unwavering efforts, care, and love during both good and bad times. His eternal refrain echoes, as he sacrifices his own birthday revelry to honour mine, which arrives the following day. Serendipity, it seems, binds our birthdays. He, too, has been on his path to becoming a better partner, son, friend, brother, and more. What I cherish most about K is that, despite the trials and tribulations, he is a riot of laughter with a heart of gold. We’ve both strived to become better individuals with each passing year. An essay could scarcely contain my reflections on marriage, love, and friendship. Someday, I’ll write about this beautiful friendship that forms the cornerstone of our relationship. Thank you for being you, K. <3
Until my mid-30s, birthdays marked external achievements and milestones. But the gift of dwelling in darkness for an extended period is its ability to reveal the inner light we never knew we possessed. As I approach my birthday this year, the focus of these celebrations shifts inward. External milestones may have changed goalposts, and I may have faltered along the way, but my inner world flourishes with each moment. The tight grip of the past three years of mental health struggles is finally loosening. As I write this, I feel joyous, courageous, and optimistic about my journey towards my Ithaca.
At my age, most narratives about the self have been meticulously woven. The room for change dwindles. In truth, this period between the 40s and 50s is a time of challenging transitions. It comes with a spectrum of experiences—stress, surprises, loss, transformative moments, health challenges, and more. My perspective, however, is that it doesn’t need to feel jaded. It can be as heavy or as light as one chooses it to be.
Many of us resemble mangroves adrift in the ocean, pushed there by life’s tempestuous events. Survival and growth become their own journeys. During this period, we seek anchors in islands or chosen mangroves—anchors that can be people, our inner spirits, or even the distant stars that twinkle with hope. I am grateful that my narrative of who I am and who I can become remains uncarved in stone. I am still open to tweaking my inner infrastructure and beliefs. My parents may have nurtured this unconscious yearning to dive deep—a necessity on this journey of becoming. I jest that being born on a new moon day partly explains my acceptance that the journey of self-discovery spans a lifetime. My narrative and self-construction will continue to mould me into new selves, some enriched, others perhaps less so.
Repairs and renewals shall accompany me as long as I walk this earth.
This year, I am celebrating my healing journey, art adventure, and the support of loved ones who helped me be myself. Depression can create cesspools of time where even the slightest ripple can unravel years of progress. After a decade of wearing the veil of normalcy and three years of grappling with depression, I might have unearthed the metaphorical light within, guiding me out of the darkness.
I wish to honour my art, the unconventional bet I’ve placed on myself. To feel deeply connected to painting and drawing feels sacred. I am thankful that I create for the sheer joy of it. I’ve not embarked on a performative journey. My hopes and aspirations for my art this year are to connect even more deeply. I believe my art is on its own journey of becoming. The first phase was about dispelling darkness. The current phase is of surrender and flow. It feels like a dervish dance of paints and ink. My soul connects to the larger Universe through it. It is a deeply spiritual experience. The next phase will probably be when my work transfers this feeling to others when they view it. It’s a long road ahead, and I am grateful for it.
The gift of art has opened my eyes to the world around me, allowing me to see endless possibilities, appreciate imperfections, and feel a deep sense of tenderness for all of life.
Art is my sanctuary, an ever-present refuge in times of trouble.
I could craft psalms about my love for art. Engaging in art is a privilege, often demanding sacrifices of other dreams. The reality of ageing sometimes weighs me down, but art infuses my life with unparalleled joy and purpose. It entices me to keep creating. If you know what I mean, people who create art or write might not be the perfect partners. This gift of feeling deeply comes with its baggage. It is providence that my environment is conducive to pursuing this purpose. Thankfully, my friends and family understand this labyrinthine part of me.
Becoming more and more of yourself is a communal affair.
It propels you toward your path when the right people surround you.
As I ponder the voyage of ageing, the words of Joan Didion resonate:
“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
In my earlier years, birthdays were vibrant narratives, chapters of external celebrations that adorned the pages of my life. Yet, as I approach this crucial juncture of life, the tale has shifted inward, becoming an introspective exploration. Didion’s wisdom reminds me that these stories we craft, both within and without, shape the essence of our existence.
Echoing through this metamorphosis is,
Mary Oliver’s poetic wisdom: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
As I grow, I yearn to honour the wild and precious moments, embracing change, and steering my inner compass toward authenticity and tenderness. Oliver’s words remind me of the exquisite value of each day, each year.
In her solitary musings, Emily Dickinson imparts the understanding that the self is a vast terrain, ever-shifting and enigmatic. “I dwell in Possibility,” she wrote. In the realm of aging, possibility thrives within us, as our narratives and self-constructions continue to evolve. Dickinson’s verses inspire me to dwell in this landscape of becoming with curiosity and grace.
Today, I wish to express my deepest gratitude to all those who have been part of my journey of becoming. It’s a long honour roll. To my parents, who sowed the seeds of resilience and self-discovery; to my dearest K, whose unwavering support and encouragement has been my guiding star; to my brother and his family, to R, who’s been a companion and mentor of more than a decade whose presence in life has truly been a blessing, my extended family of cousins, my childhood friends, R, who I jokingly call my adopted daughter, D, S and G, friends who supported me during my difficult times, K’s bffs (G &M) who are the people I would dial first in times of trouble, my new friends (T - Happy Birthday, babe <3 & C) who have brought so much joy to my life, the communities ( Interintellect, Foster) that have contributed in my personal and intellectual enrichment, the authors and poets whose wisdom has illuminated my path; and to all the friends and loved ones who have shared this voyage with me. Lastly, my dear readers, your presence has been a gift. I am grateful that you have taken time out of your precious life to read my ramblings. :)
I have selected two poems for this feeling that inhabits me as I write this post.
Love After Love by Derek Mahon The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life. On Aging by John O'Donohue Though your days at the most Add up to a few thousand, There is no gauge To how slow, how long And how far The road will become. The way becomes the landscape Of all your days. There is nothing left But the footsteps of the hours. Life changes pace, But your perspective on time Changes more.
In the end, the collective narrative of our lives, the intertwining of our stories, makes the journey of ageing and becoming both beautiful and profound.
Here is a question for you to reflect upon;
"Considering your own journey of becoming, what are the moments or experiences that have shaped you the most, and how have they influenced the person you are today?"
Well, Happy Birthday to K and me. :D Here is to becoming more and more of ourselves as we walk towards the unknown frontiers of the future.
This part struck a chord "Mary Oliver’s poetic wisdom: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”"
I enjoyed reading your reflection about ageing, the spiritual and privileged act of making art and loved ones who understand the sacrifice needed to engage deeply in art!
YESS YES YES to this also "Becoming more and more of yourself is a communal affair.
It propels you toward your path when the right people surround you."
Happy Birthday Irene