On Fear (& Liberation)
“Today I was moved. Moved by fear.” reads my journal entry dated on this certain Wednesday
It was a Wednesday at 11:57 AM and I was at the front desk of my yoga studio, debating which noon class to take. My body was physically tired and craving the slow flow, yet my mind and heart were feeling rejuvenated and wanted a little more action. I decided on my favorite teacher, Nicole’s, Power Vinyasa. Nicole is one of those people that is always so sweet and cheerful, that it is almost difficult to feel sad around her. No matter what is going on in my day, once I step into her space, I immediately feel lighter, sillier, more childish. Upon seeing her, I usually let out some sort of strange noise or dance move, and she responds with one of the brightest smiles the world has ever seen. When I walked into the studio, I spotted an open space right next to her mat, which I happily accepted. After setting down my mat, I frog hopped next to her, wiggling my fingers in front of my face like a villain with an evil plan, exclaiming “Look how close we are!” in some creepy voice. We giggled together, and immediately, I felt ease that I had chose the right class.
For the next few minutes, the room felt particularly chatty, with giggles all around; and when Nicole started class, she asked with a bright smile, “Is it just me, or are we all feeling extra joyous today?”. The room responded with laughter- she had hit the nail on the head. So Nicole said, “In that case, we’re gonna play around with handstand today.” And then… you immediately felt a shift in the room- nothing major.. but a hint of skepticism…a hint of fear.
As the class continued, it was still louder than most classes. We were more playful and less serious; and laughter was let out quite often. And then… it was time for handstand. The mood had shifted- some were wearing out, some were frustrated. Some, including me, were still having a great time. Although I am not particularly skilled at handstand, (or capable of it without a wall), I still enjoy the challenge of it. I enjoy learning and playing and the feelings of growth it brings. After getting up on the wall and doing my own thing a few times, I sat down in hero’s pose for a break. This is when I heard the shriek of a woman across the room from me. “Let me down, let me down, let me down!”
Curiously, I looked in that direction to see Nicole and another woman in the class holding her legs up towards the wall. There was only one way to describe the look on her face, and that was pure fear. “Brace your core, you got this,” Nicole encouraged her. “You’re doing it!” said the other woman. As she came back down to the ground, it was clear that I was not the only one whose attention she had caught. As she caught her breath, and began to smile, she announced that she felt liberated; and the entire room began to clap for her. It was a beautiful moment.
“Did you feel that?” Nicole asked. But she wasn’t talking about the handstand, or the bracing of the woman’s core. “That was fear,” Nicole stated calmly, nodding her head with a gentle look of understanding.
She continued, “We all felt it, to our own extent. Every last one of us in here. We all have fear. It has been passed down to us,” Then Nicole went into a monologue about a podcast she recently listened to discussing fear. How we all inherit it from our ancestors. How we all experience it. How it is our job to work through it.
We continued working through handstands, and as I was in the air, I realized I did not feel much fear. I did not want to be egotistical, but to be honest, I felt the opposite. I felt excitement about the challenge. Joy in the play. When Nicole told us we could stop and lay down, I didn’t want to stop- I wanted to stay in the air. Eventually, I found myself laying on my stomach, arms by my sides, one cheek to the mat, letting out a soft moan of ease and comfort. As Nicole’s monologue came to a close, she stated, “Fear is not yours. It was your parents’, and their parents’ parents, and their parents’ parents. Fear is passed down from generation to generation, but it is not a gift. It is not ours to keep. It is ours to release. Ours to work through.” And it was in this moment, before I even expected it, that I immediately began to cry. And once it started, I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it. It felt good, it felt raw.
At the time, I was not sure why I was crying, but as Nicole continued to speak in her soft voice, I knew I was safe to just feel, and not worry why. Eventually, as my crying slowed, it dawned on me- I felt proud of myself. Proud of myself for putting in the work. For having worked through so much fear in such little time, and making so many changes to myself and to my life. And just when I thought I was done crying, I began to weep, harder and harder and harder. And it was not because I felt fear, but because I felt liberation.