I Thought I Was Procrastinating…
Updated: Oct 12
But Really, I Was Planting Seeds
I Thought I Was Procrastinating… But I Was Planting Seeds
How the interests I thought were scattered became the roots of The Wildflower Method.
For years, I wondered why I couldn’t just choose one thing.
I would finish a course, then find myself drawn towards something else.
Yoga. Meditation. Journaling. Reiki. Sound. Creative arts. Horses. Nature.
Each interest meant something to me.
Each opened up another part of myself that I wanted to explore.
But alongside the curiosity came a familiar little voice.
Why are you changing direction again?
What are you going to do with all of this?
Shouldn’t you have worked it out by now?
From the outside—and sometimes from the inside too—it could look as though I was going around in circles.
I had ideas, skills and things I loved. What I struggled to see was how they belonged together.
Now, looking at the work I am creating through The Wildflower Method, I can see a thread that wasn’t clear to me then.
Many of those experiences were seeds.
And slowly, I was learning how to tend them.
It is hard to recognise a garden when all you can see is soil
When you first plant something, there is a stretch of time when very little seems to be happening.
You water it.
Check it.
Wonder whether anything will grow.
Our own lives can feel like that too.
We see the unfinished project, the notebook full of ideas or the skill we haven’t quite found a use for. We compare those beginnings with someone else’s established work and wonder why we are taking so long.
I know that feeling.
I wanted clarity while I was still gathering the experiences that would help me find it.
Looking back, I can see what some of those experiences gave me.
Journaling offered somewhere to hear my own thoughts.
Creativity gave my hands something to explore when words felt difficult.
Meditation introduced me to moments of stillness.
My experiences with Reiki and sound became part of my personal practice of pausing and paying attention.
Time with horses invited me to notice how I approached connection, space and boundaries.
The garden kept bringing me back to the season I was actually in.
There was a relationship between these things. I simply needed time—and opportunities to use them—to recognise it.
The moment I began to see the bouquet
A wildflower bouquet can hold so many different shapes and colours.
A delicate stem beside something bold. Soft petals beside textured foliage. Each brings something to the arrangement.
That became a helpful way to understand my own journey.
I didn’t need every interest to become a separate business. I needed to ask what mattered to me across them.
The answer kept returning to three words:
Calm. Create. Connect.
I wanted to make space for women to slow down, explore their creativity and reconnect with themselves.
Suddenly, the journal pages, the horses, the flowers and the quiet practices had somewhere to belong.
This became The Wildflower Method.
Six doors, one invitation
The Wildflower Method brings those interests together through six doors:
Create: Explore paper, colour, journaling and making with your hands.
Move: Pay attention to your body through gentle, comfortable movement.
Connect: Spend meaningful time with yourself, others, animals or nature.
Energy: Explore personal rituals, Reiki or sound as opportunities to pause.
Be Still: Make room for quiet, rest and moments without an agenda.
Reflect: Listen inward through journaling and Soul Inquiry.
Each door offers a different place to begin.
You might feel drawn to making a journal page while someone else would rather sit quietly outside. Your own choice might change from one day to the next.
The thread is the invitation to be present and notice what supports you.
That is what I had been gathering through so many of my interests, long before I had a name for it.
Some seeds need tending before we plant more
There is another part of this story that matters.
Sometimes learning has helped me move forward. Sometimes it has felt more comfortable than taking the next step.
Another course can feel easier than sharing something we have made. Planning can feel safer than inviting someone to experience our work.
I want to be honest about that too.
Calling everything “planting seeds” can become a lovely way to postpone tending what is already there.
So now, alongside following my curiosity, I ask myself:
What am I hoping this new thing will give me?
Do I need more information, or a chance to practise?
What could I do with something I already know?
These questions help me make a choice without turning it into another reason to criticise myself.
Sometimes the answer is to learn.
Sometimes it is to rest or ask for support.
And sometimes it is to open the notebook, choose one idea and give it a little time.
A seed needs care as well as possibility.
Your interests don’t all need to become something you sell
I have found a way to bring many of my interests into my work. But I don’t believe every interest needs a business purpose.
You are allowed to love painting because you enjoy colour.
You can spend time in the garden because it makes your day feel fuller.
A journal can hold private thoughts that never become content, a lesson or a product.
Some of the things we gather help us earn a living. Others help us enjoy being alive.
There is room for both.
If you are looking back over your own journey, try asking what those experiences have offered you before asking what you should do with them.
Perhaps an old interest gave you confidence. Perhaps it introduced you to someone important. Perhaps it is simply something you would love to return to.
You get to choose what you carry into this season.
Find Your 15: make a page of your seeds
If you have been feeling scattered, give yourself fifteen minutes to look at your experiences with fresh eyes.
Take a journal page and write:
“The seeds I have planted.”
Around those words, add interests, skills, experiences and ideas you have explored.
Include the quiet things too. A hobby you return to. Something you have learned through caring for others. A practice that helps you pause.
You might write a list, draw little stems or create a collage with scraps of paper.
Then reflect:
Which of these still matters to me?
Where can I see a connection?
What am I ready to leave for another season?
Which one would I like to tend today?
Choose one small action.
Use a technique you learned. Make one page. Write the first paragraph. Arrange a time to practise.
Let the action be small enough to do, rather than another beautiful plan waiting in your journal.
I can see more clearly now
There were times when I wished my journey looked more straightforward.
Now I can see how much of it helped shape the work I want to share.
The Wildflower Method has grown through exploring, practising, changing my mind and noticing what I keep coming back to.
It is still growing.
But I have a clearer sense of what I am tending—and that makes the next step easier to choose.
If you are in a season of uncertainty, perhaps you can offer yourself that same mix of kindness and attention.
Look at what you have gathered.
Notice what still feels meaningful.
Then choose something to care for today.
You don’t need the whole garden mapped out to begin.
A little space to begin
My free Wildflower Starter Kit offers a gentle introduction to The Wildflower Method, with space to explore creativity, reflection and moments of presence.
Download your free Wildflower Starter Kit, Find Your 15 and give one of your seeds a little attention.
I’d love to hear: what is one interest or experience you are ready to tend in this season?
Share it in the comments.
Let’s see what grows.
With love,Jodie x
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