How to Achieve Moonshot Dreams

I never tell anyone about my wild, pie-in-the-sky, moonshot dreams.

I don’t write them out. I don’t speak them out. There are times I’ve even stopped myself thinking about them, lest I jinx myself.  

Growing up in an Indian household, the idea of “nazar”––negative energy brought on by others’ “Evil Eye” was pretty firmly indoctrinated. 

Then, as even un-articulated-out-loud dreams in my youth didn’t come true (I didn’t get picked for the school play, was told by my school counselor that I shouldn’t apply to a dream college, got job rejection after job rejection after graduating during a huge recession etc.)...I figured it was best to not dream big dreams, let alone say them out loud. 

There’s obviously problems with this–not least plenty of research to suggest that when you set and articulate Big, Hairy, Audacious Goals, you achieve them. Coaches, including my visionary business coach, La’Kita Williams, know this all too well.

Yet, I couldn’t stop operating from what I only now have started unpacking–scarcity thinking. The idea that if I articulated what I really wanted, I’d probably be humiliated if I didn’t achieve it. Or that I’d alert my “competition” who would swoop in first or cast an “evil eye” for it all to go awry. Or that someone would just talk me out because girls don’t ____, and Indian women can’t, ____ and brown people shouldn’t _____.  

Or, most importantly, that I just wasn’t worthy of big dreams.

Working with La’Kita in 2021 was the first time I actually wrote out BIG goals–not achievable ones. 

Like huge revenue targets for my business (some I achieved, some not), that I wanted Inclusion on Purpose to win some big awards (it did not, but smaller ones did), that I wanted to speak on some big stages (yes!) and that I’d get to build a business that allowed me to spend time with my kid, travel to see loved ones and live a healthy life (years in progress, but plenty of forward momentum this year!)

One of the goals that I never articulated anywhere was that I wanted to practice yoga daily and immerse myself in learning about all aspects of it, beyond drop-in physical (asana) practices.  

In my heart of hearts, for over a decade, I’d dreamt of completing a 200-hour yoga teacher training. But, as a larger-bodied Indian woman in the U.S., parenting a child and building a business, the time available and the offerings out there never fit.  

Any teacher training I found in Seattle mirrored much of what I’ve seen in the physical practice classes I took—a lack of racial, nationality, ability, socioeconomic and appearance diversity. The message was loud and clear: join this studio or this training if you’re white, able-bodied, rich enough to afford the fanciest yoga clothing and interested in yoga as a physical practice, not spiritual. 

So I tucked this dream, hidden away in a secret compartment of my mind, where even my nearest and dearest couldn’t see. 

But this weekend, I finally achieved it - I completed a 200 hour yoga teacher training certification, with incredible teachers of color, led by Ashish Arora.

With my YTT cohort on our last day of training

The “how” of how it happened is truly serendipitous. TL;DR: I ended up signing up with a teacher at a brand new studio (for me), literally on a whim because the 8-weekend training aligned with the weekends in autumn that I wasn’t traveling. Once my partner and I figured out childcare for the weekends, I took a deep breath, put the deposit down and never looked back.

This Sunday, when I completed the 200 hours and posted about it on social media, so many friends and peers wrote to me with some version of, “WHAT? You never told me you wanted to do this! Since when?” 

And…well I was reaffirmed that it’s better to let people know after the fact than proclaim this goal and fail.  

But as we were driving over to our graduation ceremony, my partner reminded me that last December, I had said out loud to him: “I really want 2024 to be the year I complete a yoga teacher training.” 

I totally forgot about this conversation.

I think I was trying to be casual about it – I’m not great at saying what I want before it happens. 

There’s all the shame associated with body things that I won’t spend much time on. As a girl, I was told “glad you’re smart, because your body’s ugly.” So I’ve long internalized that investing in things that improve my “brain” is my jam, “body” improvement things should be done in secret. Western iterations of yoga sadly reiterate this (have a look at who is represented on most studio websites). This, despite yoga’s roots stemming from Indian philosophies and traditions. 

And, as I’ve learned now, that yoga is TRULY for everybody. The only asana detailed in any of the ancient yogic texts is a seat. Literally, sitting down. Handstands not necessary. 

But rewind…I realized I did say my dream out loud. I did set the goal and in doing so, I manifested it.

It does matter to articulate wild, lofty dreams out loud. Since La’Kita made me write out goals for my business, I’ve achieved professional milestones much beyond what I even wrote out. 

But now I’m learning that it’s also ok to articulate other goals–like, “I dream of finding love” or “I dream of solo travel” or “I hope to make best friends in my 30s and 40s”!!

I know, the last one is absolutely wild, but, as I’ve learnt, it’s doable!

There’s a lot of great research about the connection between writing out your goals and achieving them, but I won’t bore you with them. What I will say is this, if you’re from a group that’s long been denied your dreams, I see you. It’s so damn hard. But it is one of the surest ways we learn to be who we were always meant to.

With my graduating class at our celebration on Sunday, December 15

If possible, I invite you to join me in committing to shedding that bit by bit.  

I’m scared too, I just wrote down a goal for next year that’s making me feel queasy as I think about it (I’ll share it out loud next year.) But only by encouraging each other to dream out loud do we get the opportunity to live out loud. 

As we approach the end of the year, I hope you’re able to reflect back and dream forward. 

Thank you for holding so much space for me, and as we say in my culture:

Namaste––I bow to you.

You deserve all your dreams, and in saying them out loud to yourself, your loved ones or anyone you trust, I hope you begin to believe you deserve them too. 

I’ll see you in 2025. I hope you have a restful holiday season.

In solidarity,

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