My grandmother adored lotuses. She nurtured them in rows of vast ceramic pots, each adorned with majestic coiling dragons — the guardians of her floral treasures.
As a child, I would lose myself in the blooms, their petals whispers of grace unfurling in the sun, their beauty mirrored in the water below. Tiny fish like guppies and mollies darted between the roots, playful companions to my wonder, their glimmers of gold and silver a living secret in the depths of those dragon pots.
What fascinated me the most as a child, though, is the way the lotus flowers would retreat into the mud at the bottom of those dragon pots, then re-emerge again the next morning. It felt almost magical.
Indeed, that was the metaphor 外婆 used to teach resilience.
“Lotuses thrive in mud,” she would tell me, her voice steady with wisdom. “No matter how deeply they retreat into the murky waters, they always re-bloom with clean grace and pristine splendour when the sun rises again.”
The lotus, revered in many Asian cultures, symbolises purity, renewal, and resilience. Its life cycle embodies the spirit of perseverance and self-awakening amidst adversity.
This wisdom has lingered with me, resurfacing often in my own life journey — particularly during turbulent storms in what many would call “midlife crises”.
“When the personality comes fully to serve the energy of its soul, that is authentic empowerment.” ― Gary Zukav, The Seat of the Soul
When Life No Longer Aligns with the Soul
We hit mid-life crossroads because this phase often marks a period of reflection and reassessment.
Ambitions and routines that once defined us may no longer align with our evolving values, while the realisation of finite time can intensify questions about purpose and fulfillment.
Mid-life is a juncture where unmet goals, shifting priorities, and our accumulated experiences converge, prompting us to pause, reevaluate, and seek a path forward that feels more authentic and meaningful.
A mid-life crisis can feel like a descent into the mud — an unsettling period marked by self-doubt, disorientation, and the weight of unrealised dreams. It’s a time when the bright certainties of youth seem to dissolve into murky waters, leaving us grappling with questions about purpose and identity.
But what if this phase isn’t a “crisis” at all?
What if it’s a catalyst — an opportunity to pause, reassess, and emerge stronger, much like the lotus?
For many, mid-life crises manifest as feelings of stagnation or dissatisfaction: career paths that once seemed promising may now feel suffocating. Relationships that were once attentive and nurturing may strain under the pressures of time. Dreams deferred may resurface, demanding attention.
These challenges, though daunting, are also invitations to evolve.
Taking Comfort in the Mud
Much like the lotus’ reliance on the mud for nourishment, our struggles during a mid-life crisis can become the foundation for growth.
Embrace the Mud. Rather than resisting the discomfort of this phase, lean into it. Accepting the reality of our struggles allows us to confront them with clarity.
Journaling, therapy, or honest conversations with trusted friends can help illuminate the root causes of our dissatisfaction.
This process is akin to the lotus drawing nutrients from the mud — necessary for the re-blooming process.
Reassess Your Values. Mid-life offers a chance to reevaluate what truly matters: are you chasing goals that align with your core values, or are you adhering to societal expectations?
We often struggle with who we ought to be with who we’re expected to be, whether it stems from work expectations, family commitments or peer pressure. Reflecting on these questions can provide a clearer sense of purpose and direction.
Cultivate Renewal. Use this period to invest in self-care and personal development. Whether it’s acquiring a new skill, prioritising physical health, or exploring creative passions, small steps can create momentum.
Think of this as preparing the conditions for your re-blooming.
Reframe Failure. Failures and setbacks often loom large during mid-life. However, they are also opportunities for growth.
By viewing failure as a stepping stone rather than an endpoint, you can approach challenges with resilience and optimism.
My Mental Lotus
During my own mid-life reckoning, I found myself returning to my grandmother’s lotus pots — not physically, but in memory.
The image of those flowers retreating into the mud, only to emerge anew each morning, became the mental image I used to guide myself.
I started small: I revisited hobbies I had abandoned, like writing and sketching. I reconnected with friends I’d lost touch with, drawing strength from those relationships. Gradually, I began to see my crisis not as a dead-end, but as fertile ground for renewal.
The process wasn’t linear and smooth-going all the time: there were days when the weight of uncertainty felt overwhelming. But the lessons of the lotus reminded me that transformation takes time and patience.
Just as the lotus doesn’t bloom overnight, neither do we emerge from adversity instantly. The beauty lies in the journey.
“There is the mud, and there is the lotus that grows out of the mud. We need the mud in order to make the lotus.” — Thich Nhat Hanh
Revived in Pristine Splendour
A mid-life crisis can be an awakening — an invitation to shed old skins and step into a more authentic version of ourselves.
Like the lotus, we have the capacity to rise from the mud, renewed and resilient. This transformation doesn’t erase the struggles we’ve faced; rather, it integrates them into our life stories, turning our challenges into the foundation of our strength.
As I look back on the stormy periods of my life, I’m actually grateful for the discomfort and uncertainty. These dark times pushed me to confront truths I might have otherwise ignored and led me to a deeper understanding of myself.
And just as the lotus blooms clean each morning, I emerged from the murky waters of my crisis more aligned with my purpose and values.
Renovatio — this is the renewal, restitution and restoration — of my body, mind and spirit.
The old house with its garden where pots of lotuses once bloomed was sold after my grandmother passed away. Today, that entire stretch — once home to 外婆 and her neighbours — has become a sleek, modern condominium complex, echoing the spirit of renewal of the humble lotus.
My mother kept one of grandmother’s majestic dragon pots with white lotuses (her favourite), now thriving on our balcony. It’s our little place of Zen in the house, where we’d admire the flowers and watch guppies dart through the roots and mud, surfacing only at feeding time.
Those pure-white lotuses stand proudly as symbols of resilience and renewal — a reminder that no matter how murky the waters, we too can rise and bloom in splendour.