I caught up with my sister the other day. She lives on the West Coast, and I live on the East Coast, so these calls are how we stay close across all those miles. She told me about her granddaughter, who, at eight, moves through the world at full speed. Trees, bikes, rocks, the top of anything climbable. She scuffs her knees, she has sprained and broken things, and none of it slows her down for long. She is fearless.
Then she said something that stopped me in my tracks. Just a few words. “She reminds me of you, Sar, when you were little.”
My sister remembers these things because she was ten when I was born. She had a front-row seat. And I sat there holding the phone, a little stunned, because being compared to that bold, unstoppable girl felt like the biggest compliment I’d had in a long time.
Here’s the funny part. I do feel brave. I just don’t often see myself that way. Because of my sensitivities, there always seems to be so much to consider. The noise, the light, the energy in a room, how I’ll feel tomorrow if I say yes today. Go with the flow, do it anyway courage has always felt like it belonged to other people. People who don’t need to check the weather inside themselves before they step outside.
But my sister’s words made me wonder. What if that girl didn’t disappear? What if she just learned that she needs a different kind of gear?
My grandniece has her fearless spirit. I have my rituals. Yoga nidra in the morning. Yoga that reminds my body it’s on my side. A few pages in my journal. A walk by the water where the wind clears out whatever I’ve been carrying. For years I thought these practices were how I coped. Now I know they’re my superpower.
Because here’s what happened when I kept showing up for them. The container they built stopped living only in my morning routine. It moved inside me. My sense of safety, my steadiness, my foundation, all of it became something I carry rather than something I have to find. And that changed everything.
It means I can get on a plane. I can sleep in a strange room, sit in a loud airport, land somewhere I’ve never been, and still feel at home in myself. A few minutes of yoga nidra in a hotel bed, a journal on my lap in a café, a walk wherever the nearest trees or water happen to be, and I’m back. The world outside doesn’t have to be calm and predictable for me to feel okay, because I bring the calm with me.
I used to believe that needing all that care made me less courageous. I had it backward. Tending to myself is what set me free. The girl with the scuffed knees never needed the world to be soft. She knew she’d be okay. It took me decades and a lot of practice to know it again, but I do. Deep in my bones, I do.
So the little girl my sister remembers is still here. She just packs her superpower in her carry-on now. And honestly, I think she’d approve.
What’s your superpower? I’d love to know what helps you feel ready to leap.
Forever and always.
L O V E
Sarah ❥
