I Am a Creator: Releasing the Fear of Inadequacy

 Lately, I’ve been feeling stuck—blocked in my ability to create. I scroll through social media and see an endless stream of talent—dancers moving with grace, musicians pouring their souls into melodies, painters capturing beauty, sculptors shaping visions, yogis teaching with mastery. And then there’s me. I feel small. I wonder if I am contributing anything of value, if I am offering anything worthwhile to this world. Where is my seva, my selfless service? What am I truly giving back? Will I ever make a difference? What will my legacy be?

Then I think about the issues that weigh heavy on my heart—our children. The health of our youth in America is in crisis. Seventy percent of our young people cannot even pass the military requirements to enlist. While I am a yogi who stands for peace, I am also grounded in the reality of the world we live in. Even Krishna had to remind Arjuna that he had a duty on this Earth. I, too, have a duty, and it has always been clear to me—protecting children, advocating for their well-being, ensuring a future where they can thrive. I remember the years I spent fighting for this. I remember standing for medical freedom, for transparency, for informed consent. And today, I see a shift, a validation of that fight, with Robert F. Kennedy Jr. being confirmed as Secretary of Health and Human Services. He has been a warrior for truth since 2015, standing with parents who demanded accountability from the CDC. I did not participate in the last election cycle. I had disengaged from politics entirely—until now. My decision to vote was not about politics; it was about standing for our children and their future. Because when science is influenced by conflicts of interest, when the health of our people is compromised for profit, standing in truth is not just a choice—it is a responsibility. 

And then, I reflect deeper. Where has my energy truly been poured? Into my children. Into my grandchildren. Into the lives I have nurtured, protected, and guided. Parenting is the one thing I took seriously from the very beginning, holding on to my role as a mother as if my life depended on it—because, in many ways, it did. My children have been my purpose, my reason, my greatest creation. And now I see it clearly—I AM a creator. I have created perfect, beautiful things. My legacy is already alive, walking this Earth, shaping the future, passing down the love, wisdom, and truth that I have instilled. I do not need to fear that I am not contributing. I have. I do. And I will continue to, but with far less pressure on myself to achieve some grand external accomplishment before I die. Because I already am some great thing. And that realization—this profound innerstanding—fills me with gratitude. I am, and have always been, enough.