Riding the Fear

After teaching yoga the other day, a friend approached me with an observation that caught me by surprise. “You looked nervous at the beginning of class,” she said. At first, I wasn’t sure how to respond. Nervous? It hadn’t occurred to me in the moment. But as I sat with her words later that day, I realized she was right. I had been nervous, and the more I thought about it, the more I understood why.

For years, I’ve lived in a space that felt safe. I created the conditions for deep healing, re-regulated my nervous system, and built a rhythm that honored my body’s wisdom. I learned to trust quiet, to move at my own pace, and to say no to chaos. That time was necessary. It allowed me to find coherence and rebuild a sense of inner safety that I hadn’t known before.

But lately, I’ve been stepping into something different. I’m launching offerings that ask for visibility and engagement. I’m sharing parts of my story in ways that require vulnerability. I’m creating content, leading retreats, writing, and recording meditations that do not just live inside me—they are meant to be received. That shift, from internal to external, has stirred something in me. I am finding myself at a new edge, and my body feels it.

This isn’t the kind of fear I used to run from. It’s not about danger or misalignment. It is about aliveness. I’ve come to see that nervousness can be a signal that something matters. It is the body’s way of preparing for expansion. When I get nervous now, I try to listen closely. It doesn’t mean I need to stop. It often means I am doing something that is truly meaningful.

So I’ve made a choice to ride the fear. I am not interested in pretending it’s not there. I am not trying to outgrow it or bypass it. Instead, I’m walking with it, letting it guide me toward what is next. This is what it looks like to continue healing, even after the foundation has been rebuilt. This is what it means to move from integration into embodiment.

If you’re reading this and you feel like you are on the edge of something too, I want you to know that you’re not alone. Maybe you’ve done your own deep work and are now standing in front of a threshold that requires you to be seen. Maybe you are scared, but you know it is time. I see you in that. I honor the part of you that is willing to keep going.

This next season of my work is for all of us who are ready to grow not just inward, but outward. I’m creating offerings that hold space for transformation, not from perfection, but from truth. Whether you join me through a retreat, a meditation, a book, or a quiet moment of resonance, my hope is that you feel accompanied.

We are not alone. We are becoming together.

With breath, courage, and devotion,
Benny