Bloom Where You Are Planted

A few days ago, I came across a journal entry I wrote in March 2021. Back then, I was somewhere in Europe, living solo in my camper van with my dog, having left the Netherlands behind in late 2019. I had no fixed plan, no big dream mapped out. Just the quiet (and sometimes not-so-quiet) ache of searching for a life that felt more like mine.

I didn’t know it then, but I was about to arrive at Suryalila Yoga Retreat Centre in southern Spain—a place that would shape me, stretch me, ground me, and set me on fire in the best possible way.

Reading that entry now, more than four years later, I feel two things:

1. A surge of compassion for the version of me who wrote it.

2. And an eye-roll so strong it nearly dislocated something—because… wow. She’s still here.

Maybe a little wiser. Definitely more sun-freckled. But still caught in that tug-of-war between surrender and ambition. Still juggling becoming and being. Still learning how to stay when my instinct is to chase, or at least to be looking outward.

Here’s the entry, translated from Dutch. I’ve left it mostly intact, with a few bracketed notes for context.

Title: Bloom where you are planted. "This quote was shared in a women’s group, and it’s exactly what I needed to hear. I'm tearing myself down again for the life I’ve chosen. Not the right place, not the right camper, not the right job, not the right relationship status. So it's always that things should be different. But what if these exact circumstances are ideal for my growth? I also so often think of what Sevana [my sister] often says: “If you think that X is going to happen… then you’re probably right, but if you think the opposite, then you’re probably right too” [a quote my sister loves to repeat. It’s a classic mindset principle that points to the notion that our thoughts don’t just reflect our inner state; they actively shape our outcomes. If I’m walking around expecting things to fall apart, they probably will. But if I believe I’m capable, or that something good is possible, I start seeing the world through that lens etc.] That's how it is, and I just think very negatively a lot of the time. And yes, that’s mainly because of the eating [I was overeating at the time to dull my discomfort]. Self-doubt. Doubting myself and my ability to grow consistently in a certain direction. Recently, I briefly connected to the idea of just living without a plan, and whether that could be okay. Imagining that there is no tomorrow or yesterday, no ambitions or drive to prove myself. Only today—and then what are the ingredients for a good day? Being kind to myself, taking care of myself mentally and physically. Being kind to others. My pitfall is also that I tie my hope and self-worth to circumstances and images in my head of a celebrated body/mind trainer (just to name something), and of course those images are constantly subject to fluctuation. So plans are just plans. I take action to take action to just do something. To develop myself, improve my knowledge and skills so I can be of broader service. But don’t think you’ll be happier because of it.”

At the time, I was so stuck in this cycle of trying to fix myself—always trying to “get there,” whatever “there” was supposed to be. And honestly? I still do that. The external circumstances have changed—I live in the beautiful Conil de la Frontera in southern Spain now, sold my camper van, I have a part-time job as a production editor, a solid income, good health, beautiful community of friends, a new love, my dog, a meaningful side business in holistic therapies, and regular singing practices that nourish me deeply.

And yet… the same old patterns still creep in.

The self-doubt. The tendency to ruminate. The frustration that I’m not doing enough with my ideas. The feeling that life is slipping by while I’m still mentally “preparing” for it.

The irony is that my spiritual work and my self-development are my job, in a way. I guide others through bodywork, voice healing, somatic therapy. I facilitate ceremonies, I help people drop into themselves. And yet, I struggle with the same shit I help others with 😆.

Which brings me to an Instagram post I saw the other day that hit me like a truth dart:

“Sometimes you just have to stop. Stop the spiritual work. Stop the healing. Let it all go for a moment. And the paradox is: this might be the most spiritual thing you can do.

We’ve come to equate healing with doing—do more, fix more, learn more. But if you don’t feel enough as you are, doing more just reinforces the same feeling of unworthiness.

We bring the mindset of overworking and high achievement into the healing journey. But true healing doesn’t come from pushing. It asks for the opposite.

You slow down. You breathe. You meet what’s uncomfortable without needing to change it. That is real healing. And it’s often the simplest path.

This path isn’t about becoming more. It’s about becoming who you truly are—not by striving, but by letting go of what was never you in the first place.”

I sat with that post for a while. Because it put into words what I’ve felt for years: that my creative drive and my desire to be “better” are often tangled up in the same underlying fear—that I’m not enough unless I’m doing, producing, contributing.

Recently, I read another affirmation that hit me right in the third eye, so to speak:

“I will no longer attribute any value to thoughts that are not translated and expressed into action.”

That one triggered both clarity and guilt. Because I am someone who lives in my head. I have a laptop filled with ideas. Voice notes. Scraps of outlines. But turning thought into form? That’s my bottleneck. Even with plenty of time and ChatGPT as my brainstorm partner, sounding board, marketing advisor, and life coach (we all do that, right? If not, you're missing out!!) I am still mostly, but not exclusively, an idea machine. Is it time to simply see all these ideas for what they are: just ideas? As opposed to little unplanted seeds living rent-free in my head, making me feel guilty for not sticking them in the ground and watering them?

And as I write this, I ask myself again: Why am I so obsessed with doing and producing and creating?

The answer arrives, fast and loud: Because we’re creators.

Elizabeth Gilbert says it beautifully in her recommendable book Big Magic: when we don’t channel our creative energy outward—into art, action, movement—it implodes. It curdles inside of us. It stagnates. And like any stagnant energy, it starts to rot. We get self-critical, bitter, blocked. We become the opposite of creative: putrid.

Yeah, I know that feeling too well.

And so I circle back to this quote I wrote down in 2021: Bloom where you are planted.

Yes, it sounds like something you’d see printed on a mug in a gift shop. Maybe even reeks of toxic positivity. But maybe, when I really sit with it, it means this:

Be with your life as it is. Even if it’s messy. Even if you’re not “there” yet. Even if you still don’t know what the f* you’re doing.

Maybe blooming isn’t about ascending to some higher self. Maybe it’s about letting the self that already exists stretch a little toward the light. Watering the soil. Breathing. Making space for stillness and movement. Allowing yourself to be instead of always needing to become.

Because life? It’s a process. And while yes, we want to manifest things and build things and express our gifts—I’m learning (again and again) not to get so caught up in the doing that I forget the being. Not to get so focused on where I’m going that I miss the strange beauty of right now.

Speaking of strange beauty. I’m heading to India next month. It will be my first visit, and I’m staying almost 3 months. It’s going to be intense. Challenging. Strange. Beautiful. And probably disgusting at times, too. I’m ready to Be with it all (famous last words, lol).

 What about you, dear reader? Where in your life are you waiting to “arrive” before you let yourself feel peace, joy, or worthiness? What would it look like to bloom exactly where you are—without changing a damn thing? And what’s one thought that’s been circling in your head that’s ready to become an action?