A dream undreamed
Everyone has this subconscious fear of getting started.
We fail to wake up at the ringing of our alarm clocks. We fail to begin a passion project — or to follow through. I admit I am also one to slack off, even when it comes to the most important things.
We fear failure, rejection, embarrassment — things that are possible, and sometimes probable, but are still unknown at the time of ideation. We are afraid of the uncertain. When we let this irrational fear control our decision-making processes, we fail to live in the moment.
Ultimately, our fears lead us to our failures.
This is one thing I learned today.
When I was a grade-schooler, I remember claiming ownership of my mother’s book on yoga. I liked its glossy pages and fine print, and I wanted to mimic the elegant, graceful yoga poses pictured inside it. Before I could even try, however, my older sister told me that the practice of yoga is rooted in Hinduism, and so, as a Catholic, I was discouraged from pursuing this potential hobby.
Still, the fascination has stayed with me. For months now, I have been looking up and tracking down the schedule of yoga classes in the nearest fitness studio in my workplace. I know by heart the price of walk-in sessions and the rates for special packages. In my mind, I had already budgeted my monthly income to accommodate the extra expenses this activity would entail.
My Google search history would show questions about what to wear in a yoga class or what to expect in the first session. I had asked some friends, whom I know have practiced yoga in one way or another, for advice. I had sent a message to the yoga studio, confirming class schedules and asking what I had to bring. I had invited others to come with me, too, but plans never pushed through.
No matter how badly I wanted it, I always had a reason not to go: my irregular work schedule, uninspired mood, tight budget, lack of yoga wear, and so on.
Tonight, however, I have mustered enough courage to attend my first yoga class.
^ It would have been weird if I had brought my phone with me inside the studio, when we’re supposed to be in a meditative state. So, here’s a photo of the outside of the studio instead. Heh.
I was anxious and half-panicking. It was a solo trip to the studio. I wasn’t very sure if I wore the right kind of clothes. I couldn’t find myself a hair tie and a face towel. It seemed to me that I was unprepared. Above all, I was scared that I wasn’t flexible enough.
In class, it turned out that all these fears didn’t matter.
No one glanced at me (except the instructor, for obvious reasons) and recorded every error in my poses. No one cared if my hair were all over my face. No one knew that sweat had been dripping onto my mat. No one pointed out my inflexibility. Everyone was focused on — and mindful of — her own practice to even bother.
And I enjoyed myself, immensely. This was a dream I had kept in my heart for years. Now, I am fulfilling it, one stretch at a time. Namaste! •
We fail to wake up at the ringing of our alarm clocks. We fail to begin a passion project — or to follow through. I admit I am also one to slack off, even when it comes to the most important things.
We fear failure, rejection, embarrassment — things that are possible, and sometimes probable, but are still unknown at the time of ideation. We are afraid of the uncertain. When we let this irrational fear control our decision-making processes, we fail to live in the moment.
Ultimately, our fears lead us to our failures.
This is one thing I learned today.
When I was a grade-schooler, I remember claiming ownership of my mother’s book on yoga. I liked its glossy pages and fine print, and I wanted to mimic the elegant, graceful yoga poses pictured inside it. Before I could even try, however, my older sister told me that the practice of yoga is rooted in Hinduism, and so, as a Catholic, I was discouraged from pursuing this potential hobby.
Still, the fascination has stayed with me. For months now, I have been looking up and tracking down the schedule of yoga classes in the nearest fitness studio in my workplace. I know by heart the price of walk-in sessions and the rates for special packages. In my mind, I had already budgeted my monthly income to accommodate the extra expenses this activity would entail.
My Google search history would show questions about what to wear in a yoga class or what to expect in the first session. I had asked some friends, whom I know have practiced yoga in one way or another, for advice. I had sent a message to the yoga studio, confirming class schedules and asking what I had to bring. I had invited others to come with me, too, but plans never pushed through.
No matter how badly I wanted it, I always had a reason not to go: my irregular work schedule, uninspired mood, tight budget, lack of yoga wear, and so on.
Tonight, however, I have mustered enough courage to attend my first yoga class.
^ It would have been weird if I had brought my phone with me inside the studio, when we’re supposed to be in a meditative state. So, here’s a photo of the outside of the studio instead. Heh.
I was anxious and half-panicking. It was a solo trip to the studio. I wasn’t very sure if I wore the right kind of clothes. I couldn’t find myself a hair tie and a face towel. It seemed to me that I was unprepared. Above all, I was scared that I wasn’t flexible enough.
In class, it turned out that all these fears didn’t matter.
No one glanced at me (except the instructor, for obvious reasons) and recorded every error in my poses. No one cared if my hair were all over my face. No one knew that sweat had been dripping onto my mat. No one pointed out my inflexibility. Everyone was focused on — and mindful of — her own practice to even bother.
And I enjoyed myself, immensely. This was a dream I had kept in my heart for years. Now, I am fulfilling it, one stretch at a time. Namaste! •