Leaping Lemon

As I enter into the more adult stages of my life; post-college, post-first nine to five and post-questioning the working system in place, I can see what has played the biggest role in my growth and development. And it wasn't the hard work, though very necessary. It wasn't my compassion, though also very necessary. It wasn't my interest in caring about what other people thought of me. Nope. This kind of fuel was fear. Good ol' fear.

Growing up, I always played it safe. I avoided cartwheels and the monkey bars due to possible injury; I was simply uninterested in activities involving risk. Fast forward, after college I found myself on the yoga mat for the first time ever, unprotected and completely vulnerable. The thought of women balancing their bodies on their forearms paralyzed me with fear. What would they think of me- I can't even touch my toes. What would that mean about who I am, my value? It was habitual to feel immediately less-than.

But something happened as I continued to arrive on the mat, day after day. I began to develop a relationship with fear that felt brand new. It was brand new. It was one that acknowledged fear, accepted it and even tried to comfort it, instead of pretending it wasn't there. Fear was becoming a welcomed component in the on-set of all of my experiences and I was beginning to realize that a life worth living would always be married to fear.

Today at Whole Foods I picked up a children's book called, "The Little Lemon That Leapt" and it told a story about a lemon that took a chance on itself. A little lemon more interested in leaping than in becoming lemon meringue pie one day. Fear kidnapped my personal power a long time ago and each time I step on the mat, I take more and more of what's mine, back.