NaBloPoMo 2020: Day 12

NaBloPoMo 2020: Day 12

What is my biggest dream?

I’ve achieved my biggest dream, but Dream #2?

Let me clear the air right off top: yes, I am one of those annoying & unapologetic humans who can say, with zero sarcasm, that she’s achieved her biggest dream. I documented the details of this life change on the blog once so I’ll summarize here: at the age of 40, I quit my private sector career and became a librarian. It was the biggest chance I ever took and, as scary as it was to reinvent myself after twenty years in the workforce, I don’t regret taking the long way home toward my dream. It was worth every misstep and detour.

My second dream, however, is still out of reach. I don’t even know if it’s a viable option in this new socially distanced world, but my dream of being a yoga instructor has stuck with me since a world that couldn’t imagine the probability of a Miss Rona. I remember watching To Life! Yoga with Prisiclla Patrick on PBS when I was a small child. The beginner-to-intermediate yoga show bookended the hodgepodge of Sesame Street/Mr. Rogers Neighborhood/Reading Rainbow episodes, starting and ending this grade schooler’s day with Priscilla’s calm and easy-to-follow instruction. I was a tiny yogi in those moments, little did I know. Once I had outgrown PBS’s roster of elementary school programming, I didn’t come back to a yoga mat until I was in college.

Today, I maintain a steady yoga practice: twice or thrice a week, interweaved with cardio sessions on the treadmill or athletic step. I have sisterfriends who are yoga instructors, but I’ve never shared with them my interest in getting certified. Why not?

I’m afraid that I don’t have room in my life for the hours of training required for certification.

I’m afraid that, at 41, I’m too old to become a yoga instructor. I’m not ancient but this body certainly doesn’t bend and flex like it did during the Bush Jr. Administration.

I’m afraid of being inauthentic, of not being able to bring my highest self to the dream I’ve held onto since I was a kid watching PBS.

I’m afraid that, among the throng of willowy Caucasian instructors, my brown curves would be less than the default.

Fear is so fucking wack, y’all, but I’m working on dissolving my Afraids because I deserve to follow my truth or whatever Glennon Doyle told me to do. What I know to be true is this: the first step to dismantling fear-based thoughts is putting them on paper…or on a blog for the public to read and scrutinize. Whatever gets me through the night, I guess.

So yeah, this was another wonderful experience of writing myself raw for the world.
We’ll do it again tomorrow.

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