Making Worth of Your While

California flowers, impermanence, and the art of staying true to what you are

This morning’s walk revealed something beautiful: the succulents are holding light like small miracles, their thick leaves storing sunshine and wisdom in equal measure.

They don’t apologize for their unusual beauty or worry about conforming to what flowers should look like.

They simply exist, resilient and radiant, offering themselves to the world with the kind of quiet strength that makes you stop mid-step and remember what it means to be truly alive.

As I paused beside a cluster of plants, Mary Oliver’s words whispered through me:

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Here, among these water-storing teachers, I felt the answer forming not in my mind but in my molecules—those tiny messengers of emotion that Candace Pert reminds us are constantly flowing through our bodies, carrying information between heart and brain, between feeling and knowing.

You Already Know How to Love Yourself

There’s something profound about watching succulents thrive that reminds you of your own nature.

The echeveria doesn’t question whether it deserves morning dew. The aloe doesn’t apologize for its healing properties.

The barrel cactus doesn’t dim its fierce beauty just because someone might find it too unconventional.

Yet here I am, walking past these perfect teachers, often forgetting the simplest truth: you are already complete.

The succulents don’t achieve their resilience—they embody it. They don’t earn their place in the garden—they claim it with quiet confidence.

They don’t wait for perfect conditions to flourish—they find ways to bloom even in drought.

When you stop to really see a succulent, you’re not just appreciating a plant. You’re witnessing what it looks like to store what you need, to be utterly yourself, to find beauty in efficiency.

No performance, no pretense, just pure expression of adaptive grace.

They remind me that emotions, as Dr. Pert discovered, are not just mental experiences but physical realities—molecules dancing through our bodies, teaching us that feeling and healing are inseparable.

The Beautiful Gift of Temporary Things

These succulents won’t last forever, but they’ve mastered the art of lasting longer than most. The ghost plant will eventually send up its tall flower spike and then slowly fade.

The hens and chicks will create new generations before the mother plant completes its cycle. The century plant waits decades before its spectacular final bloom.

And somehow, this makes them more precious, not less. Their slow, deliberate approach to time teaches us something essential about impermanence—it’s not about rushing toward endings, but about savoring the journey.

Impermanence isn’t the enemy of beauty—it’s what makes beauty possible. The succulent doesn’t hold back because it will eventually fade. It doesn’t save its water for a better season. It stores what it needs and gives what it can, knowing that this moment is all there is.

Walking among these patient teachers, I remember what Mary Oliver knew: “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” The succulents understand this—they’ve learned to find nourishment in the darkest soil, to transform difficult conditions into strength. Like our own emotional molecules, they carry the memory of both struggle and resilience.

This Moment Is Your Garden

My walk becomes a meditation on worth—not the worth I have to prove or earn, but the worth that’s already there, waiting to be recognized.

Every step past another cluster of succulents is a reminder that I don’t have to justify my existence any more than a jade plant has to justify its ability to store light.

The California landscape doesn’t try to be somewhere else. The agave doesn’t wish it were a rose.

The string of pearls doesn’t apologize for its unusual beauty. Each plant stays true to its nature, and in doing so, creates this magnificent tapestry that could only exist here, now, in this particular combination of soil and sun and season.

This is what it means to make worth of your while—not to prove your value, but to express it. Not to become someone worthy of love, but to recognize that worthiness flows through you like those molecules of emotion Dr. Pert described, carrying messages of belonging and acceptance through every cell of your being.

I think of Mary Oliver’s gentle wisdom:

“You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.”

The succulents know this. They simply exist, store what they need, and offer their quiet beauty to the world.

Centeredness Through Natural Rhythms

The succulents teach me about timing and patience. They don’t force their seasons or rush their cycles.

They respond to what’s needed when it’s needed, storing water for dry times, blooming when conditions are right.

The sempervivum knows when to produce offsets, the lithops knows when to split, and the barrel cactus knows exactly how much sun it needs to thrive.

There’s a rhythm to self-love that mirrors this natural wisdom. Some days I’m in full bloom, radiating confidence and joy.

Other days I’m storing energy, roots deep in the soil of my being. Both phases are necessary. Both are beautiful. Both are worthy of appreciation.

Walking past these resilient teachers, I remember what Dr. Pert discovered—that our emotions are not separate from our bodies but are literally the molecules that connect mind and matter.

The succulents embody this unity: they feel the sun, store the rain, respond to seasons, all while maintaining their essential nature.

As Mary Oliver wrote, “Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?”

The succulents answer with their patient presence:

love yourself now, store what nourishes you, and bloom when you’re ready.

True Wealth Is How You See Beauty

The real gift of this walk isn’t just the succulents I see—it’s the eyes I’m seeing them with.

The same path I’ve walked a hundred times before suddenly reveals new textures, new lessons, new moments of wonder.

Nothing has changed except my attention, and everything has changed because of it.

This is the secret of making worth of your while: it’s not about filling your time with worthy activities, it’s about bringing worthy attention to whatever time you have.

The succulents were always there. The beauty was always available. The invitation to wonder was always extended. I just had to slow down enough to accept it.

Standing here among these water-wise teachers, I feel those molecules of emotion that Dr. Pert described—tiny messengers carrying information between my heart and brain, between feeling and knowing.

The succulents remind me that resilience isn’t about being tough all the time; it’s about knowing when to store up and when to give out, when to open and when to conserve.

A Beautiful Week Ahead, No Matter What

The succulents will continue their slow, patient cycle. Some will send up flower stalks, others will produce new offsets. The garden will change, and I’ll change with it. But the capacity to see beauty, to recognize worth, to love what’s here—that remains constant, available in every moment, as renewable as morning light.

Tomorrow’s walk will offer new insights, new lessons, new opportunities to remember what I already know: I am worthy of love simply because I exist. Not because of what I do or achieve or become, but because I am part of this magnificent, temporary, ever-changing garden of being.

The jade plants don’t question their right to store sunlight. The aloe doesn’t apologize for its healing properties. The barrel cactus doesn’t dim its fierce beauty. And I—beautiful, impermanent, perfectly myself—I don’t need to justify my place in this garden either.

As Mary Oliver reminds us, the world offers itself to us with such generosity. The succulents understand this offering, and they receive it with the same quiet grace they display in everything they do. They teach me that loving myself isn’t a destination—it’s a practice, as natural and necessary as breathing.

You are blooming, in your own time, in your own way.

The most radical act is to love yourself as naturally as a succulent loves the sun. The most revolutionary practice is to see your own worth as clearly as you see the beauty in a simple jade plant.

The most transformative truth is that you are already worthy of every good thing that comes your way—your emotions flowing like healing molecules through every cell, carrying messages of belonging and acceptance wherever you go.

All love ❤️

-P