Traveling through Fear, Dancing toward Dreams by Christine C. Reed, blisschick.net

I could never go away to study yoga.

Reason Number One: I am a horrible traveler. Horrible. I get worked up about it weeks ahead of time. Any little thing goes wrong and I am freaking out. I do poorly on strange foods and in strange beds and around strange...people.

Reason Number Two: I am an introvert and a homebody. I did not say that I am agoraphobic, but I know I am slightly tilted in that direction.

Reason Number Three: New experiences give me rashes. (Not really, but I like the image.)

Reason Number Four: I have been convinced for many years that a Yoga retreat place would be filled with whispering, non-emotionalgranolas.

I could go on and on, but you get the idea.

I have been tempted by many a Yoga teacher training, many long weekends with beloved teachers...all of this coming into my mailbox in high gloss, like the Pottery Barn of mystical experiences.

I have signed up -- halfway -- and then deleted the form. I have even gotten so far as to pay for a short retreat and then cancel and pay a fine.

And Kripalu? It has acted like a mirage in my self-imposed Desert of Fear for a long time.

Only when I started dancing again, did I finally find the courage to go.

I signed up. I paid in full. I bought my bus ticked. My partner and I researched everything, going so far as to look at photos of the bus stations I would have layovers in and then looking at photos of the town I would be dropped off in so that I would feel like it was a wee bit familiar when I arrived.

All went well. I got to Kripalu in one piece. Barely frazzled, very tired.

I went right into freaking out mode.

It was just what I expected: Pretentious and filled with Weirdo Wannabes!

What was I doing there? Could I get a bus ticket to leave early? When was the soonest I could get out of there?

I went to my room and tried to hold it together enough to get changed and eat something.

I was scared to death what my first class that night would hold.

I walked around wide eyed and ready to jump at the slightest provocation. I could not believe I had thought I should leave the comforts of my own home.

Finally, seven o'clock arrived -- the time on Sunday evening when week long programs begin. I went, shaking with nervousness, to that first class. I sat in the hall with the others, waiting to be admitted. The doors opened and we were shoved into an introductions exercise.

I hate those!

I tried to make like I wanted to be there, still plotting my escape in the back of my mind, telling myself that, at the very least, I could stay in the facility but not participate in anything and then just make my way home and never leave again.

Then we started to move. We started to groove. I breathed deeply. I danced like the maniac I am. I got back in my body.

I left that classroom at 9 P.M. and my feet were not touching the ground. I think I floated back to my dorm room.

In two hours, I remembered/re-membered myself.

I could finally look around and truly see where I was. The miracle and beauty of what I had done: I had pushed every edge; I had exhibited courage; I had taken my yoga off the mat and out into the world and it was good.

Over the week, I would have one transformative experience after another.

This was not, obviously, what I had expected. I thought maybe, just maybe, I would have "fun." But transformative? Life-changing?

Those things can't happen to us if we aren't brave, if we don't do the things that we tell ourselves we can't.

Thinking about going away to study Yoga or dance or anything you love? Do it. Do it now. Do not hesitate. Look your fear in the face and walk on by.

Christine C. Reed is a dancer, writer, yogini, and student of all things mystical. She writes daily at Blisschick.net when she is not getting her groove on.