The importance of maintaining your practice, when life doesn’t go to plan
Have you ever had something happen to you and thought to yourself, well, this sure is going to make a great story one day? Or am I just a writer?
It’s often not until years after the fact that we can reflect upon those moments with a far greater level of clarity—and sanity—than we had at the time. However, sometimes it is our very practice that keeps us from losing it in the moment. Allow me to share with you the unfolding of events of my most recent solo Meditation and Writing Workshop, that reminded even me of why I practice what I preach.
Earlier this year, I was approached by a local tulip farm inquiring if I would host a mindfulness meditation event amongst their flower field. As a small freelance creator, I jumped at the unique opportunity, and immediately got to planning my session.
In January, when I visualized this mid-spring session, I certainly did not expect my attendees to show up fully clad in their winter coats and earmuffs (I may as well have just hosted the session in January, because the weather ended up being the exact same).
The night before, I had not one, not two, but three portable music speakers at home blow out on me. No problem, I thought. Surely, the sounds of nature around us will provide a much more grounding soundtrack for some writing and meditation! The session was held at 8 a.m. precisely so that there would not be many people on the farm yet, and our environment would be perfectly serene and peaceful. We’ll get to that.
I arrived at the farm 30 minutes early, hoping to have time to set up and ensure that everything would run smoothly. I typically always arrive at my meditation sessions ahead of time so that I can ground and balance myself before students enter the space. I know, as humans, we are very receptive to each other’s energies, so I try to show up calm and collected in the hope that I can reflect that onto my students as well.
I waited patiently behind the gates that led out to a field miles and miles long. Ten minutes went by, then fifteen, then twenty. By this point, my session was supposed to start in five minutes, and finally, the gates to the farm were opened.
We drove onto the massive, seemingly endless field—if you’ve ever driven through Niagara-on-the-Lake, you know the ones—and I ran over to one of the farm employees and asked where would be best to host the meditation class. She pointed to a spot that was the furthest possible point from the entrance, so I bee-lined for it. One of my students had accessibility concerns, so the whole way there I was panicking about how far the session location was from the parking lot.
Despite getting settled ten minutes late myself, I looked around and noticed that none of my workshop students were even there yet. Just when I figured they must have all gotten buried in another endless flower field in Niagara-on-the-Lake, they finally started to trickle in. Immediately as they sat down, I could sense that everyone was freezing, and uncomfortable because of it. The last thing I want is for my students to feel unsettled, especially when they are already being asked to meditate amongst strangers in a foreign environment.
A few guests had not made their appearance yet because they could not locate where I was—the field was huge!—but I had to get started, as I knew it was merely a matter of time before the place became packed. Since we started so late, I had to cut back much of my perfectly planned script and writing prompts, wanting to be respectful of everyone’s time. I had this session planned for months, and so far, nothing was going as I had hoped.
TASC Tulip Farm, Niagara-on-the-Lake.
The second I instructed everyone to lie down and close their eyes, preparing for what I imagined—and advertised—would be a peaceful and restorative meditation class, it seemed that every child in Niagara on a sugar high had accumulated around us. Immediately, it was as if they and I were sports commentators, competing for airtime. If only there were a way to put a moment on Do Not Disturb. 🤦🏻♀️
As I was nearing the end of my session and relinquishing my last bits of hope for redemption, something curious happened. While the students were lying in their final Savasana resting pose, I took a moment to look up quickly and realized—for the first time—that we were in the middle of a field, full of thousands of rainbow-coloured tulips. We were literally lying in a field of flowers—something that I often ask my students to visualize during my meditation classes. The sun was out and beaming. The birds were flying around and chirping away, finally having emerged from a dark, long winter. There were families from all over surrounding us, filled with so much joy that I had to raise my voice just to be heard over them.
The moral of this story is: if everything went according to my plan, it would have been perfect. Hell, if my life went according to my plan, it would be perfect! However, the best books aren’t devoid of sorrow, turmoil, and a series of unfortunate events—and neither are the best lives. Maybe that’s exactly what makes them so meaningful.
No, that morning was not perfect, it did not at all go to plan—but it was beautiful anyway.
I don’t teach meditation or writing, or practice the two myself, because life is perfect. I teach them because it’s not—and we can still be okay anyway.
Most practitioners in the wellness space did not find their way there through smooth sailing. We as humans rely on habits, environments, and practices—healthy or unhealthy— to make us feel psychologically safe, and to keep our bodies in a state of homeostasis. For me, it’s meditation and mindful movement. For you, it may be a cup of tea and cuddling a pet.
It is important to practice our ‘things’ when life is going well, but even more so to continue our practice when it is not. Ironically, it is often during those periods that we swear we “don’t have the time” for them when we need them the most.
A Breathwork & Meditation workshop I co-hosted in March, at SOL Yoga Niagara.
If you are a wellness practitioner, or just a recovering perfectionist in any career field, it is frustrating when your hard work doesn’t amount to instant results, or when your perfect plan doesn’t pan out as it was supposed to. It is important that you don’t completely write off these imperfect moments—which, lets be honest, happen more often that not—but rather find a way to use them for reflections, to deepen your practice, or to remind yourself that sometimes things don’t happen exactly the way you wanted them to, so that they can happen exactly the way they were supposed to. Who knows, you just might realize it one day.
A few years ago, when I had a habit of self-abandoning during times of distress, I would have left a session like that—one where I really had no control, despite my copious amounts of planning—full of pity, resentment, and negative spiralling. Instead, I left feeling proud of how I handled things, even when circumstances were throwing me off balance, and grateful for this newfound ability to adapt to a less-than-ideal situation. It is because of my consistent mental health practices that I am able to see things with more perspective, more acceptance, and more surrender. If I had not made it a priority to make time in my life for the practices that keep me well, I would not be here writing this post from a place of gratitude—and even laughter—instead of frustration.
It is foolish to think that we ever have any control over this life. Despite what’s going on in our uncontrolled external environment—much like the tulips on the farm on the day of my workshop—as long as we continue to nurture ourselves from the ground up, we can bloom even in less-than-ideal conditions.
I started my workshop by asking students to reflect upon one practice, person, place, or thing that made them feel rooted, grounded, and steady. May you leave this post remembering that it is only from a strong foundation—a stable, nurtured, consistently watered one—that our inner flowers can begin their bloom, too.
Don’t forget to look around every once in a while amidst the chaos of your own life - you may just discover that you’re sitting smack in the middle of a field of flowers. 🌷🧘♀️🫶🌷
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One of the reasons I write is in the hopes that others can locate a piece of their beautiful chaos amidst my own. If you are a wellness practitioner—current or aspiring—and you are in need of connecting with others who get you - you won’t want to miss YET Niagara’s Health & Wellness Practitioner Networking Event, back on May 30th by popular demand! Grab your tickets now HERE before they sell out!
Continue your yoga practice with Andrea, who is back in action at Bridgewater Yoga on Saturday and Sunday Mornings at 10AM. Drop Ins available here: https://www.wellnessliving.com/explore/locations/yoga/ca-on-niagara_falls/bridgewateryoga/schedule/
Keep showing up for life, in all of its messiness,
Julia Ventresca🌞