Last week I ran a free Qi Flow Challenge.
On paper, it was simple: a few days of gentle Qi Gong practices to help energy move, soften tension, and reconnect with the body.
In reality, it turned out to be one of the most challenging things I’ve done in a while — technically, physically, and mentally.
There were technical hiccups. Links that didn’t work the first time. Platforms that didn’t behave as expected. The kind of small things that, when you’re already tired, feel much bigger than they are.
Physically, I was not well. I caught a terrible flu just before the challenge started, the kind that drains you completely. Low energy, aching body, foggy head.
Mentally, I was under pressure. I kept asking myself the same question over and over:
Should I postpone this?
Is it responsible to show up like this?
Am I letting people down if I don’t?
And then there was another layer: participation.
The challenge ran in English and Italian, something I care deeply about because it reflects who I am and the bridges I want to build. But the numbers were small. Seven people signed up. Most didn’t attend live. A few watched the recordings.
If I’m honest, my perfectionist voice had a lot to say about that.
But here’s the truth I want to share.
I chose to show up anyway.
Not at my best.
Not perfectly.
Not with the energy I wish I had.
I showed up as I was.
And that choice — more than the numbers, more than the tech, more than the flu — is what made this challenge meaningful.
In Qi Gong, we talk a lot about flow. About listening to the body. About adapting instead of forcing. About meeting reality where it is, not where we wish it to be. Last week asked me to live that teaching, not just teach it.
There were moments when my voice was softer than usual, my movements smaller, my pace slower. And instead of fighting that, I let it be part of the practice. I let the sessions be what they needed to be: gentle, grounded, real.
Something else became very clear to me: impact is not always measured in numbers.
Seven people may not sound like much. But behind every registration was a real person. A nervous system. A body looking for ease. A moment carved out of a busy life to pause, breathe, and move. Some joined live. Some watched later. Some may not have practiced at all yet — and that’s okay. Seeds don’t sprout the moment you plant them.
I also want to say this clearly, because I know many of you will recognize yourselves in it: showing up imperfectly is not failure. I think it’s integrity. It would have been easier to cancel. To wait until I felt stronger, clearer, more “ready.” But life rarely waits for perfect conditions. And neither does healing.
This challenge reminded me why I do this work. Not to perform. Not to impress. But to create spaces where presence matters more than polish.
I don’t see this week as something that “didn’t work” (although my ego voice wants it to seem that way). I see it as a quiet beginning. A practice of trust. A lesson in resilience, for me as much as for anyone who joined.
If there’s one thing this experience reinforced, it’s this: Qi doesn’t ask us to be perfect.
It asks us to be honest. To listen. And to keep showing up gently, consistently, and with compassion.
And that, to me, is already a success.
There’s also something else I want to say out loud because it feels important.
I still don’t know if challenges are the format that suits me best. I genuinely don’t know yet. Last week made that very clear. The structure, the timing, the energy required, all of it gave me a lot to think about. And instead of seeing that uncertainty as a problem, I’m choosing to see it as information.
What I do know is this: I’m deeply proud of myself for doing it anyway. For showing up despite the doubts, the low numbers, the flu, the technical hiccups, and the little voice that kept asking, “Is this worth it?” Because growth rarely happens when everything goes smoothly.
In the coming weeks, I’ll go back and review everything with care:
every email I sent,
every recording,
every prompt,
every piece of material I created.
Not with judgment, but with curiosity.
I trust that the lessons learned and the insights that only come from doing will guide me toward the format that truly reflects who I am and how I want to serve. The one that feels sustainable, aligned, and generous for both my current and future clients.
This challenge wasn’t about proving anything. It was about listening to my body, my energy, and the work itself.
And even if the path isn’t fully clear yet, I know this: taking the step mattered.
Sometimes, showing up is the practice.
If this article resonated with you and you’d like to keep exploring the gentle connection between body, mind, and energy, I’d love to stay in touch. Every Sunday, I send out a slow, soulful newsletter with reflections and practical tools on health, self-care, Qi Gong, Traditional Chinese Medicine, and the art of living in tune with your body. Think of it as your weekly pause — a moment to breathe, learn, and reconnect with yourself.
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Let’s keep walking this path of awareness and transformation — one mindful step (and one gentle breath) at a time.
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