Last week, I had the privilege of welcoming five incredible women to a Midsummer Reset retreat, hosted by myself and my friend and fellow coach Marie Knight in an idyllic location in East Sussex.
It was a great day all round but one of the things that struck me most was the bravery it took to book a place, then to show up and be vulnerable, friendly, open and kind. To be prepared to face personal challenges, be curious about how we might do things differently, and address the stubbornness or fear that can get in our way. We also laughed, ate great food and enjoyed the sunshine. But first, everyone had to step outside their front door and commit to the day.
We often talk about lack of confidence, and feel it’s only by pumping up our ego that we can prime ourselves for success. But until that magical sense of self-assurance descends, we feel unprepared to take action. We wait. And in that waiting, we feel as though we have failed.
What if instead of talking about confidence, we recognise our courage? The courage it takes to feel scared but to show up anyway – at work, at the gym, at a reunion of friends we haven’t seen for a long time?
If we congratulate ourselves for doing something that feels scary – moving to a new country, sending the book we have laboured on to an agent – and knowing that, whatever happens, it will have been worth the risk.
The bravery it takes to find our voice to say how we are feeling, or to disagree with someone.
To voice, in our embarrassment or shame, that we were wrong, or we feel hopeless, or to ask for help.
It can feel easier to make a brave move when we’re coming from a place of safety and security. Which is why I tend not to think about stepping out of our comfort zone but bringing it with us; stretching it and testing it, rather than ripping it up.
When we begin to probe our perimeters and prod at our perceived limitations, they become more pliable. Our comfort zone becomes bigger and more expansive; it increases in capacity and gives space for courage to grow.
Here’s an example from my own life…
I’ve been thinking, talking and procrastinating about taking a dance class – something I haven’t done since I was 16 years old. I’ve explored why this idea keeps pirouetting around my brain. It’s to do with expressiveness – I have an urge to move my body in a way that allows emotions to flow through me physically, beyond the confines of my heart or mind; something visceral that I can feel in my sinews.
There’s also something around movement as a playful, creative act, rather than the linear route of a run, the functionality of the gym or even the flow of yoga. I want to change direction, fall down, traverse in unexpected directions.
My comfort zone – and the first option I began exploring – is to go to a ballet class. I took ballet until gigs, pubs and clubs took over, and I love the strength and beauty of classical dance. I know the language of ballet and I can see myself comfortably standing at the barre (although maybe not wearing a leotard). I know there are adult ballet classes near me, so this would be a simple chassé to take.
My stretch zone – a contemporary dance class. Born of ballet but informed by a freer approach to movement and musicality, contemporary dance is something I love to watch but have never really tried. (The Saturday morning jazz dance classes I did as a kid were more about high kicks and splits than expressive movement.) Trying a contemporary dance class feels both scary and thrilling; with the risk of looking like a fool. But more than the fear of feeling clumsy and stupid is the question, ‘What if it feels amazing?’ And the realisation that I won’t know if I don’t try.
My discomfort zone – ecstatic dance. This is the place that I’m not prepared to go, yet. (The ‘yet’ is important as it prevents me from shutting down possibilities.) At our Midsummer Reset, one of the guests asked if I’d thought about ecstatic dance – freeform, ‘dance like no one is watching’ movement that generates a sense of blissful, elevated flow. The only rules are no alcohol or drugs, no judgement and no talking.
Not only do I know a coach who loves her regular ecstatic dance sessions but the gym I go to also offers ecstatic dance workshops; still, the thought of this public lack of inhibition feels too revealing for now. I haven’t made the step back into dance I need to create a bridge between where I am now and this potential ecstatic future.
The conclusion - I’m going to book a contemporary dance class to stretch my comfort zone and I’m going to test its elasticity and possibilities even further by dancing at home. This was the suggestion of our workshop guest (‘Have you thought about closing the curtains, putting on some music and just starting to move?’ Er, no, but I have now!). Am I feeling confident? Not really. Am I feeling brave? Yes.
When we’re ready to be brave in one area of our life, it can help if we feel secure and grounded in another part – to think about what we need to have ready before we can leave base camp and attempt to scale the mountain. That’s what we’ll look at in tomorrow’s column for paid subscribers.
Bon courage!
I also offer 1-2-1 coaching. If you’d like to find out more or book a free intro session, please visit andreachildscoaching.com
Photo by Florian Cordier on Unsplash
First Post on substack felt like being brave, then exciting as I did it, then anxious...was it worth reading?....then a reminder....I'm just beginning....what a range of emotions...How's the dancing going?