Dear Reader,

It might not surprise you to know that I love checking things off to-do lists.

Recently I checked off a task that I'd had on my list for a few years – and it was so satisfying that it still makes me smile.

It wasn't anything grand; simply pruning a rambling, forgotten rose.

I've lived on this farm north of Barcelona for nearly 12 years now and I’m still discovering surprises. One reason is because there’s so much history here.

Our house is one of the oldest in our village, more than 1000 years old. And because it sits on top of a large rock outcropping with a breathtaking view, it's speculated that it was originally a defense tower for whoever was in charge in those medieval times.

Hundreds of people must have come and gone in this place, calling it home too; I'm just one of them.

The grounds include a fresh spring, a garden surrounded by crumbling dry rock walls, former cow pastures, orchards and a forest still home to roe deer, foxes, wild pigs and badgers.

Several years ago, I discovered the property’s only rose bush, leggy and crowded by surrounding brush, but still offering a few blooms each season in my favorite color of rose: peachy orange with edges tinged in pink.

I have a lot of opinions about roses because my home city is Portland, Oregon, also known as the City of Roses, because historically roses grow exceptionally well in that climate. Before I moved to Spain, I lived across the street from one of the city’s oldest and largest rose gardens, Peninsula Park. Admiring roses during that time of my life was a critical part of my post-work decompression routine.

However, I’ve never grown my own roses and I've never pruned a rose bush – until last Saturday.

I had been waiting for the perfect moment in the dead of winter. And it was finally time.

Armed with gardening gloves and shears and a YouTube tutorial cued up on my phone, I headed out to the rose bush, which is only a stone’s throw from the farm outbuilding where my office is.

A very pleasant British YouTuber in her English garden offered simple instructions to me: Remove all remaining leaves, and any dead, diseased or damaged stems.

It took only a few minutes. And it felt good.

As I gathered up my tools, I felt the usual satisfaction of completing a long overdue task on my to-do list. But what surprised me, as I looked down on that now shorn, spiky rosebush, was another feeling: pure excitement.

I felt it so strongly it seemed silly, but I could suddenly not wait to see what would happen next. Over the course of spring and early summer, would the rosebush really take a new shape? What would be the impact of this small show of care for it? Could I count on bringing more blooms into my office this year?

Pruning for bursts of energy

This small, everyday experience reminded me of two important principles about energy management that I’m always sharing with my clients.

And it seems like this moment in February, when we have a chance to prune what might have been lying dormant and still during this wintering season, is a good time for this reminder, which is why I’m sharing it with you.

The first principle is that we should pay close attention to any activity that gives us an outsized burst of energy, that lights us up. This energy is so good for us. It’s restorative, it’s joyful, it’s our life force.

Pay attention to where and when this kind of energy shows up for you and then ask: Is this something I need to bring more of into my life? What would be the impact of that for me, and for people around me?

The second principle is related to the first, in that we may need to do some pruning to create space for what lights us up.

Pruning in our lives, among our tasks, obligations, expectations, relationships, is likely not as easy as the snip-snip it takes to prune a rosebush. It can be difficult. But it's worthwhile.

Pruning creates space for newness and growth that we otherwise may never get to access.

Along the branches of your own life, what leaves still look good but are taking up too many of your resources? And what dead, diseased or damaged branches need to be trimmed back to create new growth?

Ever since I’ve pruned the rosebush, I’m impatiently curious to see how it’s doing. When I head out for a walk with the dogs, we now need to swing by to see what’s happening. Day to day, not much obviously, but there's a bright green shoot with several bundles of leaves yet to unfurl that is already emerging from the base.

I had forgotten how good it can feel to cleanly and decisively prune away what’s not needed anymore. It can be as simple as tidying up a drawer, or as monumental as quitting one job for a new one. It’s a potent action that generates fresh possibilities. And as all seasoned gardeners will tell you, February is the perfect time to do it.

I also think that at this moment, where so much of our world and our worries are inside our phones and our computers, we will find an abundance of refreshing, joyful energy out in our natural world. So I'm going to keep checking on my rose. I hope you find your equivalent out there too.

Xo,

Hi, I'm Lisa Hoashi. I'm a coach who can help you find clarity about what's important and what's next in moments of important change. Curious about working together? ​Schedule​ a free, no-obligation conversation with me.