Every two weeks I spend a day or more wondering how I’m going to come up with something to write for the moon-day news.

I feel like I have nothing to say, nothing to share, nothing that can add value or meaning for you, the students of our shala and all the other readers of this newsletter. I’m actually filled with dread every, single time I have to write to you all.

I’m afraid of being judged by anyone who reads my words. I’m embarrassed by the sense that I have no real knowledge or insight into the vast subject of yoga.

Who am I to be writing about this subject? Shouldn’t I just leave it up to those who have been practising for much longer than me; to those who are more well-versed in the philosophy of yoga than I am; to those who have really walked this path with conviction and have sacrificed their lives in the pursuit of the lofty goal of yoga?

Serendipitously, I have engineered this deadline for myself. I know that many of you depend on getting the moon-day news in your inbox as a reminder that there is no class at the shala the next day. And that fact is the thing that eventually forces me into sitting down in front of the computer each time.

Having come to know so many of our students well over the last few years I know there are at least a few to whom this fortnightly moon-day news means a lot. They have told me this. And so it’s undeniable that I’m contributing something of value to at least a few people through my writing.

And so I must ask myself the question, why do I dread writing this so much?

I am usually somewhat proud of having written the moon-day news. I receive lots of emails from people telling me that they love what I write. There is a very positive feedback-loop around the whole thing. And yet, I have this gnawing sensation that I have nothing to write. Literally nothing. Surely, after 137 emails I’ve exhausted my reservoir of useful information.

So maybe there is a moral to all of this.

I think most of us judge ourselves too harshly and it becomes transposed into all aspects of our lives. We want to be the best employee, the best boss, the best husband, wife, father, mother, lover, writer, yoga-practitioner, blogger, student, Instagrammer, friend, cook, entertainer.

I caught myself yesterday evening giving myself the same trip in another aspect of my life. As many of you know, Suzanne and I lead a double-life (professionally speaking) as both yoga teachers and orchestral musicians. I had a concert at the National Concert Hall last night and, as I so often do, I worried that I was going to mess up. There is a version of this internal narrative that many of us have all the time. Of course, and as usual, it all went totally fine and I performed perfectly well. And a thought occurred to me when I got home, relieved to have “gotten away with it” again: I would say, since I started playing professionally, that I’ve done around 30 to 50 concerts a year. That adds up to somewhere between 450 to 700 concerts in my career. There are two instances in which I remember making bad mistakes out of all of those thousands of pieces of music that I’ve played in concert. TWO!

And yet, the fear is always there that the other musicians that I’m playing with will finally notice that I’m rubbish. What’s that all about?!

I think almost all of us have our own version of this.

We must examine our relationship with those areas of our lives in which we exhibit utter competence but yet we feel like an impostor, and ask ourselves why we are engaging in these limiting and negative patterns of thought.

I guess my point here is that we all have fears and self-doubt. It is just our minds turning over and over; the ego taking control of our thought-patterns. We place so much value in what our mind tells us, but sometimes our thoughts are not our friends and they are not to be trusted. Remember the third Yoga Sutra “When thoughts stop the individual sees his or her true self”.

See, another one written! Phew!!