Feel the fear and do it anyway.

“Feel the fear and do it anyway.”

There was a moment, years ago, when a coach said to me,
“Lila, you are successful in spite of yourself.”

I sat with that for a long time.

At first, I didn’t get it. And then… slowly, I did.

Because I don’t follow the straight line.
I never have.

I haven’t stayed in one modality, one method, or one way of thinking. And when I’ve been told to follow a clear path—do A, then B, then C—I’ve felt something in me tighten. Almost like a quiet rebellion… or a near meltdown.

For a long time, I thought this was a flaw.
I wanted to fit in.
I wanted to be like so-and-so.
I wished I could just stay in one lane—yoga, Pilates, something clean and defined—and not stray.

But that’s never been my way.

There’s always been a deeper pull to understand more. To see the body from many perspectives. To question what’s being done, especially when it becomes trend or dogma. To stay curious. To keep listening.

I just returned from leading our spring retreat—and I found myself coming back to something Miles Davis once said that really stayed with me:

“It takes a long time to sound like yourself.”

Because no one—truly no one—would have guessed this path for me.

I was shy. Terrified of speaking. Even standing in front of people felt overwhelming well into my twenties.

And yet… here I am.

I can’t fully explain how I became “successful,” except to say: I didn’t let the fear stop me. Even when it felt like it might choke me. Even when my voice shook. Even when I didn’t believe in myself.

I did the thing anyway.

If you know me, you know I’ve had intense stage fright. And in many ways, I still do. But I’ve learned to walk with it. To not let it decide for me.

Over the last few years, working with nervous system tools—daily, consistently—has been a true turning point. That, and time.

It takes the time it takes.

And now, more than two decades in, I find there are more moments of excitement than fear.

More trust. More ease. More of me.

If I could offer anything, it would be this:

Follow your own way.

We read a poem on retreat by David Whyte that has stayed with me (here is an excerpt):

Start close in,
don’t take
the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.

Start with the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own way to begin
the conversation.

And maybe that’s the invitation.

Not to have it all figured out.  Not to follow someone else’s path.
Not to wait until you feel ready.

But to listen a little more closely…to what’s yours.

To take one small step today that feels true— even if your voice shakes,
even if it doesn’t make sense yet, even if no one else understands it.

Because it does take time to sound like yourself.

And you are allowed to take that time.

So I’ll leave you with this—

What is one small step you can take today
that is yours?

With love,

Lila