Everyone on this planet has a calling.

Everyone. That means you, too.

Everyone is destined for something. Everyone is given a talent: a unique way to move and speak and think and feel as you navigate through the world. You do things in a way that no one else can.

No one.

No one can make other people feel the way that you make them feel.

We’re all trying to make sense of this life. And for a long time, I had no idea what the fuck to do with mine. I was too concerned with drinking or eating too much or focusing on fixing and controlling everyone visible to my periphery. But look inside? Pssssssh. Why would I ever do that? It’s too dark and uncomfortable. It’s scary and it’s weird and no one looks as insane as I do on the inside. There are too many monsters and goblins.

I’m at a point now where I still don’t know what to do with my life. Let me rephrase: I know exactly what I want to do, but now the hard part is getting there. People say you just need to go from point A to B to C then voila and bada bing bada boom, you’re done. You’ve arrived. This pertains to everything in which we want to make change: exercise, dieting, career goals, life goals, etc.

But is it ever this easy? Let’s be real here: the actions involved with getting to where we know we need to go are FREAKING DIFFICULT. Why did no one warn me about the struggle? If it was easy, then wouldn’t everyone jump on this super fun bandwagon?

So how do we do this? The key is to inhabit space. I’m not talking like “meh” inhabiting space. I’m talking real and totally unapologetic TAKING UP THE SPACE OF WHO YOU ARE.

Most of us don’t want to take up space, right? We want to take up the minimum. We spend much of our time apologizing. Oh, I’m so sorry that I’m taking up space in your store and no I don’t need help. Oh, I’m sorry I’m so sensitive and emotional. Oh, I’m sorry that I have needs and I’m a human. Oh, I’m so sorry that I have to eat with these crazy dietary restrictions. Basically: I’m sorry that I’m me. I’m sorry for existing.

The pain comes from not wanting to face ourselves. And we must, every single moment of every single day. I’ve tried every which way but NEWSFLASH: you can’t escape your brain. Sccaaarrryyy. But. If we inhabit the space of what we are feeling, whatever and wherever and however it may be, it’s not.

Really.

If we inhabit instead of running, staying instead of bolting, being curious instead of being like GTFOH, throwing ourselves into the darkness and confusion and discomfort, we grow.

There isn’t another way. Bummer.

Inhabiting space can mean many things. It can mean staying with overwhelming sadness and “I don’t know what the fuck to do”. Staying with feelings that feel like windshield wipers across your chest and heart. The windshield wipers are on fire and not only do they go side to side, but they’re special ones that go around and up and down and they wipe all areas of your insides. It means staying with emotional vomit. Feeling pockets of yourself that you never knew existed bubble up like you’re swamp-thing. This is part of healing.

I feel this notion fully my Ashtanga yoga practice. If you don’t know, Google it. This isn’t normal “la la la” yoga or power yoga or Bikram where the poses change all of the time and it’s super hot. Ashtanga is a practice in which you do the SAME SEQUENCE. 6 days a week. Again and again and over and over. The same thing. What’s interesting is that the practice doesn’t change. You do.

Some of the poses seem easy. When I first got into it, the names of the postures seemed so weird and foreign. Like there was never a time on this earth where I would be in a place that I would know these words, but now I do. Padanghustasana: where you bend down and touch your toes. Easy! Right? At the beginning, I wasn’t inhabiting space. I was just easily touching my toes and looking around at everyone else (first sign of bad yoga) and everyone was sweating their asses off touching their toes. What the fuck? It’s because they’re inhabiting the space of themselves COMPLETELY. They’re showing up fully. Bringing all of themselves into the practice. Imagine a space and then diffusion taking place, where a crazy amount of energy is whooshed evenly and everywhere. It’s all up to you. To bombard that space with all of your being. Through your breath. Through your intention. This practice can be applied to all aspects of life. Literally from your yoga practice to washing the dishes to arguing with someone to grocery shopping to talking on the phone or folding laundry.

In whatever you do, inhabit the space. Whatever that space may be. Even if it hurts. Much of the time, it will. It’s the sole way of figuring out who you are, what you’ve been called to do, and what your days will look like when they’re filled with meaning instead of just trying to get through it. It might not be comfortable, but when you inhabit, it’s always worth it.