Good day practice no. 01
wildflower girl
Edition no. 01 · from april 2026
This was a favorite them from this past spring.
It came from thinking about the parts of life that seem quiet from the outside. The stretches where nothing obvious is happening yet. No answer. No proof that whatever you have been tending is going anywhere.
Wildflowers know something about that. So much happens before we ever see the bloom.
What comes next begins in the now: in staying, tending, softening what has gone hard, and giving some attention to what has not flowered yet.
We do not have to pry ourselves open. Sometimes we simply make the conditions for opening.
THE PRACTICE
Make room for opening
For this one, you’ll need a bolster or a firm pillow.
Lie back so the bolster runs underneath your upper back and catches you around the bottom of the shoulder blades.
Let the chest gently broaden over it.
Your arms can open out to the sides, reach overhead, or rest wherever your shoulders feel least guarded.
Then leave it alone for a little while.
Feel the back body being supported.
Let the shoulders become heavy.
Notice the breath moving across the chest, ribs, and collarbones without asking it to become bigger than it wants to be.
Instead of trying to open your heart, see what happens when you simply give the front of the body enough space to soften on its own.
Sometimes the body needs to experience spaciousness before it believes spaciousness is possible.
Stay for a few minutes.
Then roll slowly onto one side before coming up.
THE SOUNDTRACK
A few songs for tending what has not flowered yet:
Wildflowers
The Wailin’ Jennys
Faith’s Hymn
Beautiful Chorus
Midnight Starship
Essie Jain
The Power Is Here Now
Alexia Chellun
THE poem
Wildflower Girl
She was a wildflower girl,
half-feral, half-prayer,
with seeds in her fist
and pockets full of maybe.
She flung her little spells
at the stingy ground,
at the stubborn earth,
and when it answered,
it answered first
with nothing.
But she was the wild sort…
wild enough to call that silence
a dare.
So back she came:
dirty-handed, bright-hearted,
with her reckless barefoot faith.
She watered the dark.
She stayed with the bare patch,
the waiting earth,
the long quiet.
And then—oh, then—
green fire.
A stem here,
a bloom there,
petals with their tiny rebellions,
color gathering itself
from that stubborn earth.
By and by
she had her garden.
And yes, at last
she made herself a flower crown…
queen of the almost-lost things,
wild thing that she was…
and wore it
like a bright, unruly blessing.
What comes next
begins in the now:
in staying,
in tending,
in a wildflower girl
lifting her bright little kingdom
from the waiting earth.
THE THROUGHLINE
There are periods when we want evidence.
Evidence that the work is working. That we are changing. That the decision was right. That something new is actually coming.
But not everything announces itself as it begins.
Sometimes what comes next starts with the unremarkable work of staying near something.
Watering it. Making a little more room. Softening the places that have become guarded. And trusting that a quiet season is not necessarily an empty one.
Having more good days probably asks for some of that patience too.
Not every day needs to bloom. Some days are for tending the ground.
SOMETHING TO CARRY
What are you tending right now that may need more time before you can see what it is becoming?
Smile & sigh. Yay.
Let’s make a good day of it,
Bevin
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