On Surrendering to Life and Letting Things Be

At a certain point, I think one has to stop trying to change everything around them — and instead, begin to flow with life’s current.

Resisting the current is exhausting. It wears the spirit down. Surrendering, in this case, isn’t defeat — it’s wisdom. It’s allowing things to be as they are. I envy those who can breathe freely in the middle of chaos, without constantly trying to organize everything.

That doesn’t mean losing yourself completely or dissolving into your surroundings. It means having the courage to choose peace over conflict — to find beauty in things as they are, not as you wished they would be.

Have you ever tried letting life lead, without resistance? It takes more courage than it seems from afar.

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Things That Keep You Alive (2)

Sometimes, you meet people who resemble you — in small ways or big ones — though you’ve never met before. This past week, I attended an open gathering of artists from different countries and backgrounds. It wasn’t well-planned. But it stirred something warm in me that I hadn’t felt in a while.

There’s a special kind of beauty in meeting people who share your interests or your view of the world. Conversations with them flow into unexpected places, and they leave you with fresh energy.

One of the participants, a Chinese artist, said something that stayed with me: “Meeting someone new is like discovering a different universe — one you don’t fully understand.”

Maybe that’s why encounters like these are among the things that keep us alive.

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Stories Shared Between Friends

An Ordinary Story — Until You're the Main Charterer

A friend of mine — who works as an Uber driver alongside his main job — told me about a passenger who looked to be in her sixties. She started off speaking English, but once she realized he was Arab, she switched to her Egyptian dialect and, with all the arguments she could muster, began urging him to leave Canada.

She told him about why she came to this country, and about the enormous sacrifices she made so that her two children (a boy and a girl) could have better financial lives. She spoke sadly about how they later left her — how life pulled them away for good. She also told him that she planned to die in Egypt. She said:

"Hey son, if you die here, no one will even know you’re gone."

She insisted he take her number — so he could check on her from time to time.

My friend said we often respond to stories like this with a kind of distant sympathy. But what changes everything is imagining that the life she described could be your life — and that the ending you now see as far away could be your own.

And on the edge of this story, one quiet question lingers: Who stays longer beside us — partners, or children?

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A Photo, a Memory, and a Film

While browsing my archive of notes, I came across a photo I’d saved in 2017. It was taken by Syrian journalist Hadi Abdullah. It shows a Syrian farmer who chose to face the war — in his own way. Staying on the land and continuing to farm it is a form of resistance, one that many would find far more difficult than fighting itself.

The image reminded me of a film I’d like to share with you below.

Tangerines

Original title: Mandariinid

A Georgian-Estonian film that unfolds an intense drama between enemies who find themselves under one roof. The film has won 10 international awards — and it’s honestly one of the best I’ve ever seen I’ve seen about war. It raises essential questions — about what war means to those who fight in it, and what it means to those who don’t. More than that, it elegantly explores how shared space can reshape convictions and change how people relate to the very ideas they once fought for.

The cinematography is thoughtful and meticulous, rich with subtle symbolism. And the soundtrack? Absolutely haunting.

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