Just bloom
This morning I walked onto my balcony to water my plants - like any responsible adult pretending to know what they’re doing 😂
And there she was… my Kalanchoe. Crispy, dried-up flowers. Faded and brittle.
If I’m honest, like several of the plants on my balcony, I had quietly given up on her.
But then I noticed. Tucked between the dry, lifeless petals - new blooms. Not one - many!
Fresh. Red. Vibrant.
I smiled. “Wow… this one is a fighter.”
Strong.
Gritty.
Unwavering.
Feeling inspired by my resilient little plant, I began gently removing the dried pieces.
And of course… I accidentally plucked a perfectly healthy flower. Oops!
“Sorry!”
Yes - I apologised. Out loud. To a plant.
Holding this little bright bloom in my hand, I saw the lesson.
This plant didn’t panic when conditions weren’t ideal.
🙏 She simply trusted.
☀️ That light would come.
💧 That nourishment would arrive.
And she focused only on her role: to bloom.
No forcing.
No striving.
No worrying.
And despite the summer heat, the wind… and my very questionable plant care…
She continued. And kept on flowering 🌸🌸🌸
And in doing so, this little plant gave me a genuine moment of joy.
Simply by being.
No performance.
No proving.
No effort to be anything other than herself.
Yet she moved me.
And it made me wonder…
How often do we underestimate our own value?
We assume we need to push harder, be more impressive or do something extraordinary to matter.
When often… our quiet presence, our steady growth, and our authenticity, carries more impact than we realise.
Today this little plant - reminded me to:
Just be me.
To keep going!
Worry less.
And to trust that perhaps … things are unfolding exactly as they need to.
A gentle invitation:
Pause for a moment and ask yourself:
“Where might I be pushing, when what’s really needed is trust, space, or nourishment?”
Then choose one small action this week:
Ease the pressure - loosen an unrealistic expectation or deadline
Create space - take a walk, step away, or allow a pause before reacting
Give yourself the gift of nourishment — sleep, stillness, movement, or a small act of care you’ve been postponing
Often situations respond better to care than force.