A blog confession. I’ve had two partly written blog posts that have never seen a set of eyes beyond my own. Primarily, I can point to the holiday craziness; the rush of planning, organizing and checking off little boxes on my “to do” list. But I can also confess that it’s sometimes hard to press the “publish” button. I sometimes second-guess myself. As in, “Is this blog thing really amusing to anyone but me?” And…(voice lowered) don’t tell anyone, but it’s not the only thing I second guess myself about. You’ve surely heard that saying “we are our own worst critic”. We spend a lot of time comparing ourselves to everyone else or relying on the instructions or actions of others. This is how I feel about parenting sometimes. I spend a lot of time and energy trying to do things right, juggling my efforts and judging my results. I attempt to avoid blind spots by being as prepared as possible. The unknown can be scary, right? And for someone who maintains the self-proclaimed titles of Ball Juggling Ringmaster in my own circus and Family Planner Supreme, the unknown can be pretty darn daunting. Loss of control? Yikes. Yep, there is vulnerability in the unknown.

I told myself I would attempt a blog post that didn’t include any yoga references. But then something happened at the studio a few weeks ago. My favorite instructor had to go and start a new practice during class: Silent Warrior Series. I should explain that warrior series is a sequence of standing poses that improves balance, agility and strength. I’d like to say I lose myself in poses. I’m getting better. But truth is I am usually hovering equally between listening to the music, listening to my instructor’s voice and trying to improve my pose based on those instructions i.e. knee over heel, knee tracking to inside of foot, feel the stretch on my back leg, shoulders down, loosen my jaw, breathe (kinda important). It’s a lot to think about.

A few weeks ago, this instructor timed the music to stop at the entry point to warrior series. He explained that we were moving into “silent warrior series” and said we would get a feel for it as we go. Wait. What?! How in the world was I going to do yoga without instructions to follow or music as my wingman? I’m doing well to get my butt to class by 6:00 a.m. to follow someone’s orders! Now you’re asking me to think for myself? To trust myself? (At 6:00 a.m.?) Seriously?

I’ll be honest. I spent my first silent warrior series kinda freaking out (in silence). My mind was racing. I strained to catch a view of my instructor to follow exactly his pace and sequence. Between a column and bodies of blind spots, that was useless. My next step was to search for others around me to follow their lead. That led to the second guessing; the judging of my inadequate pose compared to someone else’s more adequate pose. Self-talk ensued. Am I doing this right? Oh, she’s wearing a cute top. What does David (instructor) usually say here? Did he just snap his fingers? Is it time to move? What meetings do I have today? This series didn’t work out so well for me. My timing was not too far off pace, but it was stressing me out a bit. I wasn’t aware of my breath; I wasn’t aware of my pose or positioning. I just wanted to get to the end of this maddening silence. Please tell me what to do!  And turn the music back on. PUH-LEEZE! This continued through my first few practices of silent warrior series.

Then, a breakthrough.

During a recent class, a voice entered the hallway of my mind as if on a private loudspeaker. “Whatever you are doing is going to be just right. Inhale. Exhale. Trust yourself. Figure out why you’re doing this pose. You got this.” A great sense of confidence took over. And when it was suggested that we close our eyes during the series, I surrendered. No instructions. No spot on the wall to stare at or actions to follow. Training wheels off.  Inhale. Exhale. The room fell away. I got this.

Embracing vulnerability is one of the toughest challenges we face. It means accepting the unknown and the uncontrollable. Not exactly easy for us perfectionists. But it’s when our authentic self is fully present. What if I could surrender and trust that whatever I’m doing is just right for this moment in time? What if I would press the proverbial publish button more often? I think sometimes we need to close our eyes in order to see. Sometimes we need to turn off the voices of others in order to hear. Sometimes we need to trust our own strength and embrace vulnerability.