Leah J Moves

Think of something that really matters to you. Something you fiercely desire, that the very idea of doing/happening fills you with a storm of lifeforce. Something that you desperately wish you could do or express or share with the world. If you haven’t already made this thing that you so deeply identify with part of your life, ask yourself, why? What’s standing in your way? There may be very real world constraints such as financial situation or geographical or societal limitations holding you back. But my guess is that the biggest block, is a seemingly insurmountable wall of fear made up of thoughts such as: surely I’m not good/skilled/qualified enough, what if everyone laughs at me/thinks it/I’m stupid, what if it doesn’t work, what if I run out of money, what if I lose the respect of my family/friends, what if, what if, what if…
All those thoughts weave together to form a veil that keeps you blind from the possibilities on the other side of those what ifs: what if it all works out? What if you discover something profound? What if you surprise yourself? What if you learn something invaluable that you never would’ve gained had you never even tried?

So much of what we truly desire, of who we really want to become, is on the other side of our fear. Because the reality is, going after your dreams is absolutely terrifying. We see some totally polished version of our dreams that seems so impossibly far away from where we are now and think “I could never get there.” As if you can envision a beautiful island but you can’t even see it on the horizon. Also, you don’t even have a boat. So how the hell are you supposed to sail towards something, that you’re not even sure exists, without a vessel?

Because we have this vision of the perfect version of our dreams or the exact circumstances needed to even begin pursuing it, we’re doing ourselves a massive disservice. Going towards what we want is actually messy as hell. You have to accept where you are now and think, “what is one micro step I can take in the direction I want to go?” Taking action toward your desires, no matter how small, how messy, how utterly imperfect, will slowly but surely increase your sense of trust in yourself. It is an important act of expanding yourself into who you really are. Staying small and scared is a surefire way to limit your growth and exponentially add to insecurity, despair and feeling unfulfilled.

I remember being 24, graduated college with a theater degree and feeling wildly uninspired to audition for anything. I was working at the front desk of a gym and generally feeling utterly lost in my life. I had a long commute by bus that I actually kind of enjoyed because it was a time I could put in my headphones and disappear into my music. As I listened, I would imagine vivid dances. I would listen to the same song over and over again, each time seeing the dance more clearly in my mind. These fantasies filled me with a deep sense of excitement and were my favorite way to escape my reality. One day, it suddenly hit me: If dance is what I’m constantly daydreaming about, isn’t that a giant fucking sign that dance is something I should bring into my life? My father had died two years before then and the thought of how much of his life was spent doing things that made him miserable connected me deeply to a guiding thought: I don’t want to die wondering ‘what if’. What if I had given myself permission to do the things I really wanted to do? What if I had really listened to and believed in myself?

Let me tell you: I was completely terrified to start this journey. I had no formal dance training, I was at an age often considered ‘mature’ at best for a professional dancer (much less someone just starting out with their training), I was dirt poor and had every logistical and societal reason not to even try. Even so, something deep within my bones was pulling me towards dance and I knew that I would be betraying and abandoning myself if I didn’t at least try and see how this journey could change me.
I started taking beginner ballet classes. Even though I really wasn’t very good, it still felt fulfilling to just show up and do my best. I wanted to take more classes but I didn’t have much money so I started cleaning studios in exchange for discounted classes. I began taking more challenging classes even though they intimidated the hell out of me. I specifically remember the first time I took an advanced level class, I was standing outside the studio doors petrified and had to give myself a pep talk: It’s ok to suck, the only way to really improve is to challenge yourself, the hardest part is just showing up so just walk through those doors and do your damn best.

And you know what? I walked through those doors. I took the class. I did suck at it for a while. I think another huge part of this fear is how difficult it can be to allow ourselves to be beginners. We focus so much on the finished product, or on the version of ourselves we imagine becoming once we know what we’re doing. But being at the beginning can feel painfully awkward and embarrassing. You don’t know the language yet, you don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle. Your body and brain doesn’t know what it’s doing. Your ideas come out messy and imperfect. You compare yourself to people who have been doing the thing for years and wonder if your lack of skill is proof that you simply don’t belong there.

But just because you aren’t magically amazing at something right away doesn’t mean it isn’t for you. You have to give yourself permission to learn. To fail. To try again, and fail a little better each time. To be clumsy and uncertain and visibly in process. Eventually, if you keep showing up, things start to click. What once felt impossible becomes familiar. What once felt humiliating suddenly becomes comfortable and that turns into evidence that you were brave enough to begin and to learn.

Even though I completely struggled and honestly sucked in those advanced dance classes, I survived and I improved and I kept showing up. Eventually, walking into those classes stopped feeling quite so terrifying. In fact, after a while, they started feeling like home. They became spaces I could expand into rather than shrink away from.

The funny thing is, the fear didn’t actually disappear. It just moved to the next threshold. Once taking higher level class became comfortable, there were new things to be afraid of: auditioning, performing, showing my own choreography, teaching, calling myself a professional dancer and artist before I felt like I had somehow “earned” those words. Again and again, I’ve found myself standing at some new metaphorical studio door, scared as hell to walk through it.

Over time, I’ve started to recognize something important about those moments. Not all fear is a sign that you should move toward something. Sometimes fear is there to protect us, and sometimes it’s telling us that something genuinely isn’t right for us. But when fear and desire are occupying the same space, when the idea of something scares the shit out of you while simultaneously filling you with excitement, curiosity, longing, or that deep pull in your bones, I believe fear may be pointing directly toward growth. Maybe that’s what it means to use fear as a compass. Not to blindly run toward everything that terrifies you, but to get curious about what your fear is pointing toward. What is the thing you can’t stop daydreaming about that scares the hell out of you?

You don’t need to know exactly how you’ll get there. You don’t need the perfect circumstances, a detailed map, or even a fucking boat yet. You just need to ask yourself: What is one tiny step I can take toward that island? Maybe the first step is simply gathering the wood. And then gathering a little more. Eventually, you may look back and realize that all those tiny, messy, terrifying steps built a vessel capable of taking you somewhere you once couldn’t even see on the horizon. What possibility keeps pulling at you even while your brain produces a thousand reasons why you shouldn’t try?