What does letting life happen look like?

My first instinct as a sound bite-loving, modern female, master of the hyperbole, is to say "a hot mess," but that's not exactly true.

It looks more like an untamed rosebush in summer. Its spindly branches droop in every direction lacking the sturdiness and form of a rosebush attentively pruned with purpose. Consequently, the blooms aren't as impressive either. I'm looking at it wondering if it's not too late to start pruning it now, but my inherent apprehension toward deferred gratification has me wary about sacrificing the already existing buds and blooms. After all, no one can argue against the fact that a rose is a rose.