If someone stood on the periphery of my mind and peeked inside, they would be equally worried and awestruck at the sight. This pious gift of feeling it all is a phantom blessing, for the goodness is enshrouded within tumultuous highs and lows. My younger self, in defiance, would have sought to temper these extremes. But my greying self now is learning to dance slowly with surrender—not a resignation, but an acceptance of the grace that comes through yielding, much like Jung's shadow work. To find wholeness, embrace the entirety of our beings, the light and the dark. In this dance of surrender, I am learning to integrate my shadows, acknowledging them not as foes but as silent guides towards authenticity.
I often feel untethered, a time traveller cast adrift in the vortex while trying to make peace with the fact that faces around me are literally and metaphorically passing away from my life. Carefree in youth, I have now metamorphosed into someone for whom everything matters deeply. I return to Rilke each time during these phases, showered with ambivalence. I am allowing everything to happen to me: beauty and terror. I have been walking this path of trying to find Irene, her purpose in life, and her raison de etre for work and life since 2015. It’s been nine years of this pilgrimage of sorts. I have lost, gained, laughed, loved, cried, and moved but kept going. I know no feeling is final. As I age, the known societal fears of failure hover around my otherwise optimistic head. I have reset, readjusted, and recalibrated and made it this far. This age for women and men is tricky. If not tended with care, it can lead to disenchantment. The meditations and journaling all come like a knight in shining armour with the gift of awareness. I am aware that, at this point, I am rambling away. I want to allow the words of Rilke to echo loud in my mind. I want to surrender to the impermanent nature of existence. Now, when all I once knew has evolved, I realize it is time to return fully to the present moment. To surrender to the very fabric of reality: impermanence.
While the surface elements continue changing and transforming, I've come to believe the core of who we are remains constant. We grow into better or worse versions of ourselves, but the distinct parts comprising our whole merely take on new shades of experience and wisdom. This belief reminds me of the Taoist principle of Wu Wei, the art of effortless action, suggesting that in surrendering to life's flow, we align more closely with our true nature. On this journey, I've nurtured a deeper relationship with myself, tenderly pruning and nurturing the edges of my being during peaceful interludes. Yet, some days, I wonder if this inward focus developed at the expense of other vital aspects of life.
The insights of years past dwell within me, granting a profound understanding of people that can feel overwhelming. I envision the people in my life like plants in the forest where I exist, each growing at their own pace, a concept that cannot be rushedly accelerated. This vision of allowing each being to flourish according to their natural rhythm resonates deeply with the Taoist view of harmony with the natural world. I must surrender and honour their ways of being, allowing roots to interconnect over time. With my art, too, I have tried it to bloom with each brush stroke, each messy line, and each failed attempt to draw. I know I cannot rush its blooming nor fixate on outcomes but surrender to its organic unfolding. Each day spent fully present and alive is one well-lived.
I wish to bring this deep knowledge to my workspace, too. I am reigniting a part of myself that I left back in 2018 and surrendering with intention and grace to believe that the best is yet to come.
I surrender to the grace and mystery of human existence. I surrender with faith that my gift for restarting can seed new worlds. Sometimes, I want to throw off the masks and scaffolding and show the ugliness of this journey. Out of nowhere, I remember this doormat pic that I saw on Pinterest that read Come as you are. Is it my unconscious self trying to remind me?
I believe it’s a beautiful phrase to remember for the self and others. To allow ourselves to come as you are. To surrender to this voyage across different worlds in us and our lives. To believe in gradual blossoming that might be beautiful and thorny at times. To come as you are, to surrender, die each day and be borne anew the next day.
These two poems are what I want to share today. I hope you like them.
Allow by Danna Faulds There is no controlling life. Try corralling a lightning bolt, containing a tornado. Dam a stream and it will create a new channel. Resist, and the tide will sweep you off your feet. Allow, and grace will carry you to higher ground. The only safety lies in letting it all in – the wild and the weak; fear, fantasies, failures and success. When loss rips off the doors of the heart, or sadness veils your vision with despair, Practice becomes simply bearing the truth. In the choice to let go of your known way of being, the whole world is revealed to your new eyes. Let Evening Come By Jane Kenyon Let the light of late afternoon shine through chinks in the barn, moving up the bales as the sun moves down. Let the cricket take up chafing as a woman takes up her needles and her yarn. Let evening come. Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned in long grass. Let the stars appear and the moon disclose her silver horn. Let the fox go back to its sandy den. Let the wind die down. Let the shed go black inside. Let evening come. To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop in the oats, to air in the lung let evening come. Let it come, as it will, and don’t be afraid. God does not leave us comfortless, so let evening come.
I hope this disparate piece of rambling lights some splinters to reflect on areas in life where “come as you are” might be useful. This is my wish for you,
May your heart be open to the miracles hidden in the mundane, the lessons embedded in loss, and the connections from authentic encounters. Like the rivers that carve canyons, may your experiences shape you into a vessel of compassion, resilience, and boundless love.
And in moments of doubt, when the masks you wear become burdensome, may you remember the sanctuary of your inner truth. "Come as you are," not just as an invitation but as an incantation, echoing through the chambers of your heart, guiding you back to your essence, time and time again.
Footer notes :)
I am about to finish the spring term, and there are so many etchings and drawings that I would love to share. I will be travelling to India over the next few weeks. I hope to share some short snippets while I am there. Here are a few :)
If you are interested in Indian philosophy and AI, this video might be an interesting watch.
Books I am reading :
The Middle Passage by James Hollis
Irene, this is beautiful writing. I especially enjoyed this sentence: "I know I cannot rush its blooming nor fixate on outcomes but surrender to its organic unfolding." How true this is. And how few ever noticed this. Your keen inner eye helps cut through and show the reality. A great truth!
thanks for sharing your etchings, they are so great!