"And then the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

This powerful quote is most often attributed to Anaïs Nin, though some research suggests it may have been written by Elizabeth Appell. Regardless of its origin, these words carry a profound truth that resonates deeply, especially during our spring and summer months when nature herself demonstrates this very principle in living color.

There comes a moment in every life when comfort becomes a cage. When the familiar walls we've built around ourselves begin to feel less like protection and more like confinement. It's in these moments that we face one of life's most profound paradoxes: sometimes the greatest risk is refusing to take any risk at all.

flower buds and blooms — **Flower buds and blooms in my garden**

Lessons from the Garden

This quote pops into my head frequently during spring and summer, and this year has been no different. I've been spending countless hours in my flower garden, tending to plants and reflecting on what it truly means to develop a bud to the point of bursting. The process has become a meditation in itself—I find myself drawn to taking pictures to capture those precious moments just before a bud opens, then returning days later to see the flowers that have unfurled in breathtaking displays of color and form.

Watching this transformation unfold in real time has deepened my understanding of what this quote really means. A tremendous amount of energy goes into the journey from seed to sprout, from lengthening stem to mature plant, and finally to the magnificent offering of a flower. This energy is rooted in and fed by the earth, thrives on the fire of the sun, the nourishment of water, and the breath of air around it. When a flower finally blooms, it bursts forth in color into the space around the plant—all five elements working in perfect harmony, illustrated in living color, right before our eyes.

Potential

The potential energy encapsulated in a tight bud serves as a powerful reminder of the potential we all carry within us to blossom. But as the poem points out, there is genuine risk in showing our true colors. Do we choose to stay safe in the green crowd of stems and leaves around us, blending in with everyone else? Or do we dare to open ourselves to be seen in our full, beautiful color?

What strikes me most about observing buds in my garden is the pressure they seem to contain. Remaining a bud implies external and internal pressure—to stay the same, to stop growing before the process is complete. The tension I witness in these tightly wound buds makes it clear that this is not a comfortable place to linger. It represents a stagnation of the plant's potential energy, a holding back of what desperately wants to emerge.

After a bud finally bursts open and petals become free, there's an almost ecstatic quality to the transformation—a celebration of freedom, a releasing into the full brightness of being, reaching out into the space around it and achieving its destined potential. And then the world comes to the blossom - butterflies, bees, hummingbirds, humans. They all want to experience the beauty. Wow!

Growth in the Human Garden

As humans, we are remarkably like the plants in my garden—we need deep rooting, consistent nourishment, and adequate space to grow. Our potential to blossom is often unrealized not because we lack the capacity, but because of pressure to play small or hide our true gifts. We learn early to blend into the crowd, to keep our brightest colors safely tucked away where they can't be criticized, rejected, or misunderstood.

To fully blossom into our true nature and reveal our authentic colors, we must allow the natural process of ourselves to unfold and open. This requires hard work and the same elements that nourish plants: grounding (earth), inspiration and energy (fire), emotional flow (water), mental clarity (air), and the spaciousness to expand (ether).

Ancient Wisdom for Modern Blossoming

Yoga offers us a profound path to facilitate this very transformation. The ancient yogis recognized the pressure and discomfort inherent in the human condition when we stagnate, and when we resist our natural growth. They understood that remaining tight in our metaphorical buds creates suffering—not just for ourselves, but for the world that longs for our unique contribution.

Practices like mindful movement, conscious breathing, and cultivated stillness all work together to help us feel less scared and more confident in allowing ourselves to fully blossom. These practices create the internal conditions necessary for us to see the beauty of our true selves, and allow our true nature to emerge freely and then to thrive.

Through yoga, we learn to tend our inner garden with the same care I give to my flower beds. We provide ourselves with the nourishment, attention, and patience required for authentic growth. We learn to trust the process, even when we can't see what our full flowering will look like.

Suffering and Courage

The turning point from bud to blossoming for us is an internal shift—a growing awareness that staying small hurts more than the possibility of being hurt by growth. This realization often creeps in quietly: the Sunday night dread that grows heavier each week, the tense conversations where you barely recognize yourself, the increasing sense that you're betraying who you really are.

This internal pressure may build slowly. You might find yourself irritable without reason, feeling restless in situations that once brought peace, or experiencing a persistent sense that life is happening for everyone else while you remain frozen in place. These are the hints that there is something more in you waiting to be born.

Blossoming requires courage - a different kind of courage than we typically celebrate. It's the quieter, more fundamental courage to be authentically yourself in a world that profits from your conformity. This courage manifests in small acts of rebellion against your smaller self: speaking up in meetings when you'd normally stay silent, pursuing the creative project you've been "meaning to start," having the difficult conversation you've been avoiding, or simply saying no to commitments that drain your energy without feeding your soul. It also may take time or ebb and flow into a gradual opening. It could come in sudden bursts.

Embracing the Unknown

The flower doesn't know what it will look like when it blooms. It doesn't have guarantees about the weather, the soil conditions, or whether it will be appreciated by those who see it. It simply follows an irresistible internal impulse toward growth and light.

Similarly, when we choose to blossom, we're choosing to trust in our own unfolding without knowing exactly where it will lead. This uncertainty is both terrifying and exhilarating. We trade the known discomfort of being stuck for the unknown possibilities of expansion.

There is no promise that blossoming will be easy or pain-free. Flowers that push through concrete often have the strongest roots. The risks we take in service of our authentic selves don't guarantee success in conventional terms, but they guarantee something more valuable: the integrity of having lived as ourselves rather than as someone else's idea of who we should be.

Ready to Bloom?

If you're reading this and feeling that familiar tightness in your chest—that sense of being cramped in a space that once fit but no longer serves—maybe you are ready to bloom. The bud was never meant to be your final form. It was preparation for something more beautiful, more authentic, more uniquely you. And while the world might feel uncertain and the ground unsteady, remember that every flower that has ever grown has faced the same choice: remain safely closed or risk everything for the chance to become who you truly are.

Are you ready to flower into your highest self? Somewhere inside you, your truest self is pressing against the walls of who you think you're supposed to be, ready to break free into the light.

What would it look like if you chose to blossom today? What practices might help you tend your inner garden with the same devotion you'd give to the beautiful flower? The answer is not in forcing your petals open, but in creating the conditions—through breath, movement, stillness, and self-compassion—that allow your natural blossoming to occur.

Like the flowers in my garden, you don't need to know exactly what you'll look like when you bloom. You simply need to trust in your own unfolding, one breath, one practice, one moment of courage at a time.

Ready to start the practices to help you blossom? Join my email list below to receive updates, and check back on my Offerings page for my teaching schedule.

The Courage to Blossom