Why God Favors the Brave

They say "Fortune favors the bold," and I’ve come to see it in a similar light: the brave are just as fortunate as the bold.

My recent experiences have taught me that bravery isn’t always about grand, heroic gestures. Often, it is the quiet, terrifying courage to step away from the script. Between teaching job at the public school during the day and working in the Pilates studio at night—all while balancing the mental load of four different jobs—I’ve come to realize a new way to appreciate grace and ease.

In my over a fifteen years of professional life, I have always valued preparation. I would walk into a classroom with a premeditated curriculum, notes of my "must-topics," and plans of what I was prepared to say. But I began to notice a pattern: the more rigidly I stuck to that script, the more I losing my opportunity to connect.

The magic doesn’t happen in the lecture; it happens in the detour.

The moments where the audiences truly listen—where their eyes lock onto mine and the room lightens up—are the moments when I get "caught" by a question. In those seconds, I choose to venture into the unknown, even knowing it might bring some disruptions that requires redirection to calm the vibe down. It is moment where I decide to pause the lesson plan and converge on their genuine interest with a conversation from a one-way broadcast..

Think back to being a kid in class. When you were picked to speak, the goal was usually simple but also complex: answer as fast as possible, and hope you get it right and don't get picked again. We were taught to be nervous about being seen.

But I’ve realized the brave ones do the opposite. To be brave is to think and act outside that box of fear. It’s about speaking in a way that makes others want to jump into your world. It’s the shift from “I hope this is over soon” to “I have something to share that I think may excite you as much as it gets me.”

This epiphany followed me right into the Pilates studio. I used to focus heavily on the sequence I had planned for the hour, but lately, I’ve found that being present is more important than being prepared. When I pay attention to what a client is feeling in the moment—adjusting the flow to support their immediate needs and letting my cues "rhyme" with the previous movement—the experience becomes transformative. By being flexible and present, the session stops being a workout and starts being a meaningful connection.

Balancing four jobs can easily turn life into a series of checklists. It is so easy to live on autopilot just to get everything done. But I’ve learned that the "box" we build for ourselves—the safety of the script, the rigid schedule, the fear of being "off-topic"—is actually what keeps us from being guided by our intuition.

When we are brave enough to let go the safety of the plan and meet people where they are, we find a much deeper connection. Whether it’s in a classroom or on a reformer, the goal isn't just to finish; it’s to start a conversation that nobody wants to end.