On Enjoying This Season, Flowers + Letting “Best” Die

I wrote this a while back (Like April) but just never published it because I wasn’t sure when to or how to share it best xD. But, it honestly captures a lot of the energy I have right now too, especially as I see my last year of college coming up.

I’m excited for the dusty pink sheets I just got. They’re simple and mauve-y and go with my myriad of autumn spice color pillowcases. 

I’m in absolute love with the wildflowers on my desk, smushed in behind my planner and pens. I adore watching them slowly bloom open day after day and I just hope they’re getting enough sun. 

I love my candle collection. Everything in me wants to say it’s getting out of hand but honestly, I just love all the scents, and I’ve oddly clung to the habit of lighting a candle whenever I’m in my room working on something- which is almost always.

I adore my calendars and my stacks of wonderful books and my collection of cards I can’t wait to send and the mugs that hold my pens and stickers, my whole corner devoted to paint by numbers and ever-rotating pictures and prints that celebrate this life I’ve built and absolutely adore. It’s two grid sheets beside each other- full of photos and beautiful cards and envelopes from beloved pen pals and prayers and encouragement over my own life. I love my plants and my frames and my hand-me-down loafers and my watercolor paintings of my dogs, and hell, even the nail-salon work cart that holds a bunch of boring things underneath my desk. I love every ounce of it. 

My life is full of so many good things. Purely good, wonderful, amazing things. And I feel most rested and restored when I sit and savor that. When I lie down in my green pastures, remembering the sweet smell of grass, the quiet rush of water, and what good sun feels like. 

In some ways, I feel like all the good things overwhelm me sometimes- usually in book form. Half my latest spending struggles aren’t because I’m wasting money, but because I just want access to all of the good things around me- the courses by people I trust, the books written on fascinating and soul-growing topics, the way this or that thing can help me, nurture me, and inspire me- and I know that it will. I know that I’ll cling to every last drop of a good thing, letting it soak into my bones and never leave my spirit- the words or wisdom from some one-off thing and my reading routine back in 2015 flowing out of my mouth as if I only heard them yesterday. 

But, my tendency to absorb every detail can make an onslaught overwhelming. Not only because of too much but because of so many. I want to absorb all of it- but what first? I want to absorb all of it- but when should I rest for a bit? What can wait until later? What will be best? 

And that- that word right there- best. It paralyzes me far too often. Because I don’t know. I don’t know what’s best most of the time. Especially if we’re balancing things I can’t even tell much about. Sure, all the flower options are Trader Joes are good, but which is best? Beyond any smushing or looking at how many buds there are- there isn’t much to go off other than experience. And experience requires failure- coming home to half-dead flowers after only 3 days and swearing you’ll never buy that kind again, or placing bets on the odd but hardy-looking kind because maybe it’ll last a few weeks- or sheer, dumb luck when flowers that you know only last a week or so are on day 18. 

And, in some ways, I’m learning that what I absorb, what I carry with me, what is best is a lot like picking flowers. I love flowers. I love them on my desk, I love them in my room, I love their texture and life and color- ever-rotating reminders that life is short but beautiful and messy. That the good things require attention and care. And I had to discover that I loved flowers- mostly through growing up and asking myself questions. Then, I had to wonder how much I really wanted flowers, what I needed for them, where I’d put them. I had to accept that having a nice-looking vase of flowers requires some cutting and arranging right after shopping, so I needed to plan for that. I thrifted a vase or two, learning the simple glass and a small mouth work best for me. And then, when I ran errands and felt like it- I’d pick up some cheap but nice flowers and see how long they’d last. Or simply pay attention when someone got me flowers. 

Other good things in my life- like good words, information, people, experiences, meals, memories, adventures, places- they all require a similar sort of journey. I have to ask myself what matters to me, pay attention, try different techniques, accept what’s required, and remember to enjoy that good thing in all that it is.

I know that I don’t need but love flowers- like reading or hiking or going to parks or buying Dutch Bros coffee. Some flowers will die quicker than you expected- the book will be dull or just not the right fit right now, the course will be not what you expected, the sheets wear faster than you thought, or the hike’s far less scenic than you hoped. You’ll need a vase- a plan to read with coffee every morning, a set date you’ll do that hike, some Google searches for good day trip locations, or a rhythm of when you’ll listen to that podcast or watch that class finally. And you’ll have to accept that buying flowers means learning some cutting and arranging- like getting up a bit earlier, prepping the car before, making sure the book’s easy to grab, packing the bag the night before, or going out of your way to send that text or bookmark that link. 

Our lives are full of good things that want our attention. Good, good things. Yes, life is unfair and random and hard, but it is also beautiful- full of good bread, soft-smelling candles, stunning views, dog-filled parks, and grocery store flowers. We can’t always know what will be best or most efficient or most productive or easiest the first time, or the second, or the fifteenth- but I know that what my soul absorbs, it will hold for a long, long time- and I trust her to do that.

I can’t know for sure how long I have here- in any meaning of that word- but, while I’m here, perfection isn’t as important to me as presence. How many consecutive days I read isn’t as important as the few, far-spread times I devoured the wisdom and world of another. The times I stopped and admired the sun streaming on my bed or my desk set-up or the flowers on a tree- those matter more to me than all the times I did something just-right- or even the times I did pick the “wrong” thing.

And that balance between perfection and presence will be an eternal one for me, as I remind my mind to settle down and exist even as it spins it’s anxiety and creativity and productivity and fights those inner tendencies to rush the process, be perfect on the first try, or protect myself from any sort of pain. I know it has and will pop up over and over and over again over the course of my life- but the answer isn’t to force myself to be more perfect- find some new, fool-proof reading routine or never look at my phone before noon or take on yet another set of self-imposed expectations.

The answer is to be present to what already is, what’s already happening and here. To be aware. To track my words written each day, without judgment, or note what I loved from those words I just read, or listen to myself as I reveal just how much of my life, day, and learning I’m already soaking in and letting transform and grow my heart and life’s foundation. Be aware of when my urge to write bubbles up yet again or when what I really want right now is a nicer space or a more soulful form of entertainment or a gentle push in the right direction- or to just sit here for 10 more minutes. 

It’s hard to maintain that balance sometimes since there’s this relationship between long-term, mid-term, and short-term wants. I want to read more, but I have assignments due. I want to learn this concept, but it has nothing to do with my projects right now. I’d love to do that journaling course, but will I remember amidst everything else?

And to that I say, breathe and wade into your structures- your calendars, your notebooks, your feeds, your inboxes- and include these goals in those spaces. Or even just journal out your vision and your ultimate goals. Set reminders on your phone’s calendar for when you want to focus on that project or idea. But, I also have to remember that I can’t do everything and that I have so much time.

There is always an opportunity cost to everything we do- a yes to this means a no to other things, known and unknown, one-off and recurring. But that isn’t a cause for anxiety, it’s simply a fact of life- something to know so that when we are facing the questions and decisions that shape our daily lives and rhythms, we will know what we are saying and trading. Genuinely sometimes sitting and watching Kim Possible with Mikkel for 3 hours is being present and loving this moment and this life- rather than studying or learning or working for those 3 hours. My Yellow Co. guidance group all chimed in on that idea, but I especially remember Hana, who runs a boutique store in Oakland, encouraging me to just choose fun sometimes. Her words still haunt me when she said that she worked her 20’s, she didn’t enjoy her 20’s. 

I want to enjoy the time I’m here. All the versions of here- quarantine, college, living with my family, my early 20’s, this year- all of it. I am well, well aware that life is random, unfair, and hard. There are things in this world and life that should break our hearts and awaken us to compassion and action- but there are also times of long baths, good books, and slow-made meals. Both are a part of this messy, broken, beautiful, created world.