How many times have I almost talked myself out of doing the thing? Back in 2007, I almost cancelled my yoga teacher training program in Austin, Texas. I thought it was insane to try teaching yoga in southwest Iowa, where we had just moved. My husband encouraged me to do it anyway, just to see.
I almost didn’t start my first yoga teaching job at the Southern Prairie Family Fitness Center later that summer. I thought I wanted to sub first, just to get my feet wet. Their director was happy I was certified and offered me a class that met twice a week. I sought advice from my yoga teacher trainers and fellow yoga trainees and pondered it for many days before tentatively saying yes.
I almost didn’t hike the John Muir Trail in 2019. For a lot of reasons (all neatly outlined in my husband’s book on the trip, Elevation Gain). I didn’t think my body could handle climbing the highest peak in the continental US. More than that, I didn’t think my fledgling yoga studio would survive my three-week absence.
I almost didn’t open another brick-and-mortar studio in uptown Creston. I thought I didn’t need my own space again. But the perfect building presented itself, and each baby step along the way was confirmed (I blame you, Mindy Clark-Stalker—in a good way!)
Most of these examples are related to my yoga career, but I’m sure both you and I could list so may more of these in our own lives.
What are you talking yourself out of right now—in this very moment? Because you think you don’t have the time? The money? The energy? The support? I’m here to tell you to do the thing, friend. Do it scared. Do it and ask for help. Do it with faith, being uncertain how it’ll all turn out.
As Joseph Campbell famously said, “The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.” When I heard this gem from Rumi: “Live life as if everything is rigged in your favor,” it really hit home.
What if we all actually did that? If we really did the things our heart is calling us to, but we’re scared to death to do? What if we lived our lives as if everything is rigged in our favor—because it is?