My husband Stephen and I hosted a whirlwind Thanksgiving this year, with a whopping 24 guests staying overnight. Adding to the chaos of it all, I had scheduled a local market gig for our fledgling Sun and Moon family biz for that very next Saturday.

And so I found myself the day after Thanksgiving filled with loads of gratitude…and a little angst. As we said our goodbyes to (most of) the house guests, I surveyed the aftermath. Amidst the mess of laundry, snowdrifts of forgotten socks and single shoes, boxes of Christmas decorations, and the vestiges of a dozen kids playing full blast for days on end . . . I STILL had to harvest and prepare market flowers, assemble bouquets, and make holiday candles and gift sets. I wavered: did I really want to add more to my plate?? Maybe I’d skip the market. But then my wonderful mom and sister decided to stay and help out, and Stephen dove into the dishes to give me space to shift gears and focus on market prep. Decision made! I’m all in! I told myself that even if we only showed up with a small inventory, it would be a good experience and another step forward for the business. I shifted my mindset, ignored the mess — SO not an easy task for a recovering perfectionist/Enneagram 1 like myself — and got busy harvesting, processing, assembling, making, mixing.

Aaaand then I got the news that the market had been canceled. Actually, I got the news that the bi-weekly market was off until further notice, and having planned to participate in it a couple more times during the holiday season, it was too late to find other options; all other local markets were now full.

Now surveying the array of jars, salts, petals, bases, fragrances, wax, wicks, oils, mixing bowls, sugars, labels, and stems on my kitchen counters (in addition to the remainders of aforementioned post-holiday mess), the roses chilling in our garage fridge (crammed in among pecan pie, turkey legs, and green bean casserole), and a particularly lovely fall bouquet of rusty sunflowers, gold and bronze celosia, and salmon zinnias, I started to feel defeated. How would I ever get traction on this business? I could have spent this time on much needed website design. I could have spent this time putting the house back in order. I could have spent this time with the kids (although TBH they didn’t look too displeased playing with Nana and their cousins). I started to feel the familiar overwhelm well up inside me. Then I grabbed a bag of freshly-made rose and hibiscus salt bath soak and decided that I might as well do a product test, right?

Have you heard of the 5-minute rule? It’s allowing yourself to have a tiny pity party when things don’t go your way. Basically you take 5 minutes to feel all of the feels and then you move on. On to radical acceptance of what is, because tempting as it is to wallow, fighting against a reality we cannot change leaves us stuck and blind to new – and usually better – opportunities. It’s the ancient wisdom of the Serenity Prayer, or as the Stoics put it: The Obstacle is the Way. Instead of hitting the brakes, we take this as a chance to explore new paths and expose ourselves to endless possibilities. This may all sound like a bit much in the face of a relatively trivial setback like a canceled market, but it’s usually the little things that build up and threaten my ability to be open to the flow of life. So I popped into the bath for a “product test,” 5 minutes (OK, maybe a bit more!) of wallowing, and reminded myself that obstacles and disappointment are fuel for growth if we are open to what happens next. [BTW – this is NOEASYTASK for me, and I have to constantly practice at it; see recovering perfectionist/Enneagram 1 reference above. 😉]

Then I took the roses out of the garage fridge and I made the bouquets anyway. I made them just for me. I made them because I love them, and they make me feel happy. I set them on my nightstand and around the house so my family could enjoy them too. After all, I started Sun and Moon based on my love of flowers, my appreciation of the beauty of nature, and on my fervent belief that every day we get to be alive is a special occasion that deserves to be celebrated. But there I was, running the risk of losing my exuberance for this beauty because I was making it a chore. So thank you, Universe, Heroic gods, God, Life, for giving me this opportunity to practice my own philosophy.

Take out your grandma’s fine porcelain for the Thai food takeout. Light the candles even if no one is coming over. Use the luxurious bath soak. Set out a bouquet for one. You might be surprised what it opens up.