UNMASKED
Let the poem arrive. Make the process visible.
Art is surrender. This is how we practice it.
About
I was the quiet one. The "calm" one. The pressure kettle who never caused a scene because I did what was expected.
Inside, I was anything but calm.
It took until my 40s to see it: the one who was calm was just the one wearing the mask. The people pleaser. The one who'd learned expressing emotion meant causing ruptures—so I didn't.
Until a relationship rupture broke me open, and poetry found me.
Words started flowing from somewhere deeper than my thinking mind. But immediately, my intellectual defenses tried to override them. I second-guessed. I edited to make them more "accessible." I softened the transmission to feel safer.
Then I realized: art is surrender.
It channels through us. When we get out of the way, the emotion flows, the shadows find light, and something true gets expressed. For me, it was my core wound of unworthiness that started surfacing through the poems.
When I posted them to Instagram, the wound had nowhere to hide. I was vulnerable. I checked compulsively—how many likes? Will anyone understand? Will they think I've lost it?
That activation became the medicine. Sitting with what arose. Letting go. Trusting my process.
This is wu wei—effortless action, flow state, letting spirit channel through without the thinking mind controlling the outcome.
It's been healing. I believe it can be for you too.
UNMASKED is where I share this practice:
I post poetry and document how it arrived—what I was feeling, where ego tried to control vs. where transmission flowed, what shadows surfaced, the vulnerability of making it public.
I invite you to do the same. Write. Post. Use the journal to track your process. Share in the comments if moved.
Sometimes I gather people for workshops—paid sessions exploring poetry as surrender, wu wei in creative expression, using art to excavate what's been hidden.
This isn't poetry therapy. This is creative practice as consciousness work.
If you've been the quiet one, the calm one, the pressure kettle—if you sense there's something wanting to be expressed but you've learned to keep it contained—
Poetry might be your way through.
Not because you're a "poet." Because you're ready to let something real move through you.
HOW IT WORKS
My Practice (What You'll See)
I post poetry as it arrives on Instagram and Substack. Each post includes:
The poem (accompanied by an image on Instagram & Substack)
My complete journal entry — how it found me, what I was feeling, where ego tried to control vs. where transmission flowed, what shadows surfaced, the vulnerability of posting it
You're witnessing my practice in real-time. Art as surrender. Poetry as consciousness work. How the poem came to find me and what the process was like.
Your Practice (How to Join)
1. Create your own poetry. Post publicly on your preferred platform. Witness what arises during the process
2. Track the Process - Use the Journal (Link Below - Free)
Access the same journal I use. After writing a poem, document your process:
The Arrival — How did it find you? What were you doing/feeling?
The Body — Sensations while writing. State before/during/after.
Shadow/Gift — Which part of you is speaking? What's the medicine?
Surrender — Where did ego control? Where did transmission flow?
Posting — Vulnerability level (1-10). Resistance to posting. What the resistance revealed.
3. Share Your Process (Optional)
Post your poem and journal entry in the Art is Surrender Substack comments. The community witnesses, comments welcomed for support. We're practicing together.
4. Submit Your Voice (Community Posts)
If you want your poem and process shared as a full post on the Art is Surrender Instagram and/or Substack, submit it.
No selection. No curation. If you followed the guidelines and want your voice heard, it gets heard.
What to submit:
Your poem (as text)
An image to accompany the poem on Instagram (your choice of photo/graphic - optional for Substack)
Complete journal entry (export from the journal as plain text)
Name preference (real name, pen name, or anonymous)
Platform preference (Instagram only, Substack only, or both)
Email to: artissurrender@proton.me
Subject line: Community Voice Submission
Posted as they arrive. Your submission becomes a full post under "Community Posts" on both platforms.
This isn't about your poem being "good." It's about making your process visible — the arrival, the surrender, the shadows, the vulnerability. That's the practice.
5. Gather for Workshops
Twice a month (at minimum), I host hour-long Zoom sessions (currently being scoped out):
10 minutes: Guided meditation (drop into body, quiet mind)
10 minutes: Write what comes through (let it arrive without editing)
40 minutes: Share and discuss (witness each other's process without fixing)
Sliding scale: $5-10 (pay what feels right)
Workshop announcements posted on Instagram and Substack.
That's it.
Follow. Post your own art. Use the journal. Share if moved. Submit if you want your voice amplified. Gather for workshops when you feel to join.
The journal auto-saves as you type. Export as plain text (for Substack comments, if it calls to you) or PDF (to keep). No account needed. File is local, no cloud storage. Track your patterns over time.