Thank You, Past Me 🌱

It may sound a little over the top, but planting spring bulbs in the garden of our new home over two years ago, daffodils and tulips tucked quietly beneath the soil, was one of the best investments I’ve ever made in myself.

© Naomi Hurst 2026

Every year since, they’ve come back.

No fanfare.

No effort required from the current version of me.

Just colour, life, and a gentle reminder that lighter days are coming.

I invest in myself in lots of ways. Courses. Movement. Time. Energy. But this small, muddy, slightly amateur gardening act might be the one that makes me smile the most. I am very much an enthusiastic beginner when it comes to being green-fingered, yet those flowers bloom as if planted by someone far more competent.

And when they do, they stir something else too.

They remind me of all the other times I chose (and continue to chose) to invest in myself, yoga classes, swimming lessons, and now gymnastics. Not because I needed to achieve something. Not because I was naturally talented. Simply because I wanted time that was mine and we all deserve that.

There’s a narrative we’re often sold, you must be good at something to justify doing it.

I was recently asked in a group what I wanted to achieve when I joined. My knee-jerk reaction was performance-based, I want to be able to do XYZ.

As I reflected on this I was disappointed in myself for not being honest. The following week, I went back and told the truth.

I want more fun.

More joy.

More lightness.

Yes, I am definitely the least physically capable person in the room, an excellent and humbling lesson in ego management. And surprisingly, I don’t care. I can laugh at myself now. That, in itself, feels like growth.

When I first stepped into a yoga class over 20 years ago, I never imagined I would one day be teaching. I wasn’t thinking about outcomes. I wasn’t building a future identity. I just showed up, listening to my incredible teachers and allowed things to unfold naturally.

And that’s the thing about investing in yourself or in your garden. You rarely know what it will lead to. Sometimes it leads to teaching. Sometimes it leads to strength. Sometimes you create a new identity and find your people. Sometimes it simply leads to tulips in spring.

And to anyone else who has ever planted flowers or bulbs, whether in your own garden, a community space, a roadside verge, or a pot on a windowsill, please know this, they bring me joy too. Every time I see a burst of unexpected colour on a walk, I silently thank the person who put them there.

If only everyone planted a few.

Maybe the real return on investment is learning to move with the seasons.

To trust that not everything blooms immediately.

To be present.

To plant anyway.

So today, I’m thanking the version of me who knelt in the soil, cup of tea in hand, freezing cold and slightly unsure what I was doing, and planted bulbs she wouldn’t see bloom for months. She was excited in anticipation, hopeful for what might emerge, trusting something beautiful would come in time.

And I’m wondering, what could you do today that your future self will thank you for? 🌷

Naomi Hurst