Tiger Lily

The most misunderstood flower in the garden

Alice chased one garden through the whole of Wonderland. She saw it through a door too small to fit through and she chased it down every wrong turn the place put in front of her. She grew too big for it. She cried a pool and nearly drowned in it. And then, finally, on the far side of the water, she stepped through.

This is that garden.

Here’s the thing about it. It was never a reward waiting at the end. It was growing the entire time she was fighting to reach it. Every hard room, every wrong size, every tear in that pool, something was taking root on the other side. She just couldn’t see it yet.

That’s what this last stretch of Wonderland is. A walk through the garden. And every flower in it is something that bloomed out of the hardest parts of the climb. Some of them protect. Some of them open. One of them will carry us all the way out.

We start with the loudest one.

A Tiger Lily. Tall, dark, spotted, and thoroughly unbothered. It doesn’t blend. It doesn’t soften itself to make the other flowers comfortable. It takes up the exact amount of room it needs and not one inch less, and it does it in the boldest color in the garden. You notice it before you notice anything else, and it does not care whether you approve.

Here’s what I know about the Tiger Lily. People call a flower like that showy. Selfish, even. Too much.

But the Tiger Lily isn’t taking anything. It’s protecting something. It grows from a bulb that pulls everything it needs down into itself underground, stores it, guards it, and then blooms bigger for having done it. That deep color, that height, the way it holds its space, that’s not vanity. That’s a flower that learned to guard its own ground.

I know that flower. I’ve been that flower.

Raising my daughter and working and traveling created enormous demands on my time and energy. I did the one thing I knew how to do to keep myself sane. I intentionally carved out time for myself. Sometimes it was simply to get out of the house and away from the fighting with my ex husband. Other times it was to truly find space for myself. I found moments that were mine, and I fiercely protected them.

I was told I was selfish. You’re gone all the time, how can you leave again. Or, I’m here with your daughter while you travel the world, I guess you don’t care about her. Or the best one, do you know how much she cries when you’re gone?

I knew deep down that if I didn’t do things for myself, I would fully lose any light I had left to carry. For her, for me, for anyone.

So I did. And I stopped apologizing.

I explained to my daughter where I was going and what I was doing. When she was old enough, I took her with me. Yoga, the gym, walks, self care appointments. My self care became a thing we could do together.

And I had no idea where that would take either of us.

It led to her becoming a certified yoga instructor by the time she was 17. It led to her getting certified in various other modalities, including Pilates Reformer, by the time she was 21. She “selfishly” prioritizes her therapy appointments with the same therapist she has had since she was 11. She goes to acupuncture. She takes regular skin and body care time.

And then she took all of it and built something of her own. She launched a wellness company with her best friend, and today the two of them spread the joy of wellness and self care across her hometown community.

But what gets me the most happened not too long ago. This beautiful creature sat me down and thanked me. For showing her what true self care looked like when she was little. She told me, in her own words, how hard it was to understand back then why I was so fierce about it. And how it all makes sense to her now.

She is my Tiger Lily. Protector of her space. Guardian of her garden.

The Weekly Practice

Find one hour this week that belongs to no one but you. Put it on the calendar the way you’d put in a meeting you can’t move. Guard it like the Tiger Lily guards its ground. And when someone calls it selfish, don’t rush to explain it away. Protecting your light isn’t taking anything from anyone. It’s what keeps you able to give at all.