"I didn't hear all of that but from what I did you need to be teaching a real class that people come to." Had I been a deer I would have head butted her and headed for the hills. Sorry Bridget, but my flight or flight was screaming, "Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly already! What are you doing just sitting there letting this woman talk you into teaching a real class that real people to come to practice real yoga? Punch her and be done with it already!!!"
But I didn't. I told my broken not good enough self to shut it the woman had a point. Hadn't my birthday wish been for piles and piles of money to swim around in like the opening of Duck Tales? And what better way to start attracting the green stuff than to, oh I don't know, teach a class that people actually come to? To use the skills I sweated, and bled, and cursed, and cried (mostly cried), and paid a handsome sum for. Teacher training-not so casual guys just in case you were wondering.
Don't I know stuff? Aren't I loud enough and bubbly enough to drag people through an hour and fifteen minute class? I mean what's the worse thing that could happen?
If I let the broken not good enough chatterbox of myself answer those questions she says, "No. No you are not good enough at all. You suck and people will probably throw things at you and not have a good time and they'll never come back because you are a terrible terrible teacher. And they'll tell other people how awful you are and write about it on Facebook and then all of Driggs will point and laugh at you. So you just keep teaching your tiny not real hardly anyone ever shows up for class because that's all you're good for."
And that's when I realized she was who I really needed to punch because seriously? We're here again? I thought I squashed her when I dumped all that extra weight, moved into a yoga studio, and fell in love with my life.
But some how she still gets out every once in awhile and tries to spread her vile lies. Sure I'm not the best yoga teacher in the world. I stumble over my words, constantly mix up my left and right, and am not always as clear as I could be. But so what?
So what broken not good enough chatter box self? If I've learned anything from my journey so far it's that I don't have to be perfect. Yes, I, the Valedictorian of Everything, just typed that. Pick your jaws up off the floor. It's not nice to stare.
The only thing we are called to do in this life is be. That's right. Be. Be good enough just as you are. Be love. Be loved. Be wild and creative and open. Be broken and vulnerable and courageous. Be steady and dedicated and passionate. Be ourselves. All of ourselves. Whatever that is.
But it's easy to forget that. To say I can't or I won't. To hide or run or cloak. Because it's safer. Easier. Less pit of stomach, head for the hills, broken not enough chatterbox talk when you stay in your comfort zone.
But that's not where the magic happens (you saw that image). Not where the radiant, shiny, jump up and down, fall in love with life, share your gifts, help others happens.
That happens when you gag your broken not good enough chatterbox self, sit her in the corner, and tell her not to move or else. When you just do it already. Do what scares you. What moves you. What exhilarates you.
Because at the end of the day it really isn't how well you've done it but how you feel about it. And when you can quite all the reasons you shouldn't or can't and jump. You feel amazing. You let so much joy and love and light in.
And that broken not good enough chatterbox self usually shuts up and enjoys the show.
So get over yourself already and do whatever it is that scares the bejesus out of you. Let the magic in.
I will be Wednesday morning from 7:15-8:30am.
Let's do this!
I'll pray for you.
XO,
Sara
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