I Went Anyway: Faith in a Sundress and Birkenstocks

A reflection on fear, faith and nine years of Shabach Yoga.

Last month, I traveled to Arizona, and I couldn't imagine being there without visiting Sedona. I wanted to experience the energy of one of its famed vortex sites for myself, so I made my way to Airport Mesa. I did not arrive dressed for an epiphany, and I certainly was not dressed for a hike. I was wearing a sundress and Birkenstocks, which made perfect sense for the day I thought I was going to have, but considerably less sense when I found myself preparing to climb in 104-degree Arizona heat.

As unprepared as I may have looked, my choice of footwear was not my biggest concern. I was terrified that I would encounter a rattlesnake, coyote, or javelina. I had read enough about Arizona wildlife to know that this was their territory, not mine, and my imagination was more than willing to remind me of that fact as I looked at the rocks and desert landscape ahead. Every crevice seemed like a perfectly reasonable place for a rattlesnake to be hiding, and every sound made me wonder what might be nearby.

I had plenty of reasons to turn around, including the heat, my shoes, and the fact that fear was loudly making its case for why this was a terrible idea. Still, I had come all the way to Sedona, felt drawn to Airport Mesa, and wanted to experience what awaited me there. I decided that being afraid did not automatically mean I wasn't supposed to go, so I started walking.

Standing in the energy vortex at Airport Mesa

As I made my way across the rocks, I prayed out loud and played some of my mother's favorite gospel songs on speaker. Now that she is an ancestor, I regularly call on her to guide (just as I did when she was in this realm). I had one of her scarves wrapped around me. There was something about being surrounded by that vast red-rock landscape, wearing her scarf, listening to music that connected me to her and talking to God that made the experience feel comforting, despite my mounting fear.

I wish I could tell you that somewhere along the way I became fearless, but that wouldn't be true. I continued to scan the rocks and remained very interested in not meeting any of the desert residents I had been worrying about. What changed was not the presence of fear, but my willingness to keep moving while I felt it.

There was something about Airport Mesa that felt powerful to me. The energy felt strong, grounded, and masculine. At one point, I noticed a prickling sensation in my legs that made me think about grounding and root energy. Instead of allowing my mind to stay consumed by everything I imagined might be around me, I began to pay closer attention to what was actually happening beneath me and within me. I could feel my feet on the earth, hear the music, say my prayers, and take the next step.

Thankfully, I never saw a rattlesnake, coyote, or javelina that day, but I did encounter a part of myself that I needed to meet. I met the woman who could be scared and still move forward, the woman who was grieving her mother and still willing to experience wonder, and the woman who did not have the right shoes, the right clothes, or complete certainty about what was ahead but could trust herself and trust God enough to continue.

The timing was not lost on me. At Shabach Yoga, our theme for July was Practice Facing Your Fears, and I spent the month inviting our practitioners to reflect on what it means to face fear in their own lives. Then I found myself in Sedona being given a very literal opportunity to practice exactly what I had been teaching.

Isn't that how life works sometimes? It is easy to sit with an idea when it is an affirmation, a journal prompt, or a theme we can explore from the relative safety of a yoga mat. It becomes something entirely different when life presents an opportunity to embody what we say we believe.

That day reminded me that facing our fears does not always mean overcoming them first. We often imagine courage as the moment when fear disappears, as though we will pray enough, prepare enough, become spiritually mature enough, or talk ourselves through it long enough that eventually we will no longer be afraid. Then, once the fear is gone, we will move.

Fear has a purpose, and I don't believe the answer is to ignore it. Sometimes fear wisely tells us to stop, pay attention or protect ourselves. At other times, fear simply announces that we have reached the edge of what is familiar, and part of our practice is developing enough discernment to know the difference.

I knew I was afraid that day, but I also knew that I wanted to go, so I went. I didn't wait until I wasn't afraid; I walked anyway.

As Shabach Yoga Studio celebrates its ninth anniversary, I realize that Airport Mesa was not the first time I had moved forward while afraid.

In July 2017, a month before Shabach opened, I went to the water because I was afraid. I was extremely risk-averse and deeply unhappy in a publishing job that looked stable on paper but no longer fed my spirit. Yoga had become one of the only places where I felt truly happy, and I could feel God tugging at me toward something more. I had begun looking for spaces and considering opening a yoga studio, but I did not believe I had the courage to walk away from the life I knew.

During a family beach vacation, I went to the water and asked God to release me to my highest good. The next day, I was let go from my job. My employer called the separation a "purposeful abandonment." They had no idea how right they were! I had asked to be released, and God answered in a way that required me to move before I felt ready.

A month later, on August 26, 2017, Shabach Yoga Studio opened its doors.

I was afraid then, too. I did not know exactly what the journey would require of me, how the path would unfold, or whether I was fully prepared for everything waiting ahead. But just as I would do years later among the red rocks of Sedona, I kept moving. I trusted God enough to take the next step, and then the next one.

Nine years is not evidence that I was fearless. It is evidence that fear did not get to make the decision. The woman who opened Shabach and the woman who climbed toward the vortex were the same woman: afraid, imperfectly prepared, and still willing to go.

Maybe there is something in your life that you have been waiting to do until you feel less afraid. Perhaps you have been waiting for certainty, confidence, perfect conditions, or some assurance that you will not encounter anything uncomfortable along the way. I understand that instinct, because I would have appreciated all of those things at Airport Mesa, along with a proper pair of hiking shoes.

What I learned in the vortex is that sometimes faith is simply the willingness to take the next step while fear is still present. Courage does not always arrive looking prepared, polished, and fearless. Sometimes it shows up in 104-degree heat, scanning the rocks for rattlesnakes, praying out loud and trusting God enough to keep climbing.

And sometimes, apparently, courage shows up in a sundress and Birkenstocks.

Nine years later, Shabach Yoga is what happened because I walked anyway.