Sometimes the thing holding us back is not a locked door. It is the thought that tells us we should not knock.
That thought can be quiet. It may sound like, “Who do you think you are?” or “You’re not ready yet.” It may show up as tension in the chest, a swallowed sentence, a creative idea we keep in a notebook but never share. It may look like procrastination, but underneath, it is often fear asking for a softer place to land.
The question, “What holds you back?” is not meant to shame us. It is an invitation. It asks us to pause long enough to notice the invisible walls we have been treating as permanent.
I have been sitting with this question through the lens of the Shakti Power card deck. I pulled card #48, A Fierce Phurba-wielding Blue Dakini. The card’s energy feels bold, awake, and honest. It reminds me that inner power is not always gentle and glowing. Sometimes it arrives as a fierce truth. At the bottom, it reads - "Be fierce and vanquish whatever is holding you back." In the booklet that goes deeper into the message, it explains that the Dakini's dark blue skin represents the central channel in the body, the Sushumna. She is wielding a Phurba, a magical dagger meant to pin down negative energies from the mind stream and is also capable of fixing space to earth, like a lightning rod, creating a conduit between man and earth. The Dakini herself manifests in many forms, representing the potency of female energy through new levels of awareness and creation. She is here to awaken our inner wisdom.
The barrier is often trying to protect you
When I ask myself what holds me back, my first answers are usually practical.
Time. Energy. Money. Other people’s expectations. My own schedule.
Those things can be real. Life has limits. Responsibilities matter. Bodies get tired. Bills exist. Not every barrier is imagined.
But when I keep asking, I often find something deeper underneath. So I keep asking and answers keep coming. And a very popular theme:
Fear.
Fear of being seen. Fear of not being seen. Fear of being the villain. Fear of being the victim. Fear of failing. Fear of succeeding. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of doing something with my whole heart and still discovering it does not work out the way I hoped.
That kind of fear can be sneaky because it wears reasonable clothing. It says:
“Wait until you are more prepared.”
“Do not say anything yet.”
“Keep this idea private until it is perfect.”
“If you try and fail, people will know.”
For a long time, I treated fear like a stop sign. If I felt afraid, I assumed it meant I should not continue. Now I try to read fear more carefully. Sometimes fear means danger. Sometimes it means I am approaching something honest, alive, and meaningful.
There is a difference.
The Dakini's Call to Face Our Fears
The Dakini calls us to meet our fears head on! To come down with our magical implements and wisdom from within.
The fierce energy of the Dakini feels like a reminder to turn toward the fear instead of letting it drive. Not with force. Not with harshness. With presence. With a steady voice that says, “I see you. You can come with me, but you cannot make every decision.”
Self-judgment can become a locked room
Fear holds us back, but self-judgment often keeps the door locked.
This is the voice that evaluates every move before we even make it. It critiques the first sentence before the page is full. It compares our beginning to someone else’s polished result. It turns creativity into a courtroom.
I know this voice well.
It has told me that my ideas were too simple, too strange, too late, too much, or not enough. It has convinced me to abandon projects before they had a chance to breathe. It has made me confuse discernment with cruelty.
When self-judgment is loud, creativity becomes difficult because creativity asks for risk. A blank page, a new conversation, a change in direction, these all require a willingness to be imperfect. If every attempt must immediately prove our worth, we will stop attempting.
That is why self-reflection matters. Not the kind that becomes another way to criticize ourselves, but the kind that helps us listen.
Silence can feel safe until it starts costing you
Another barrier I keep returning to is lack of communication.
Silence can be protective. Many of us learned to stay quiet for good reasons. Maybe speaking up once led to judgment. Maybe our needs were brushed aside. Maybe we learned that keeping the peace was safer than telling the truth.
But silence has a cost.
Unspoken needs become resentment. Unasked questions become assumptions. Unshared ideas become creative pressure with nowhere to go. Over time, silence can make us feel disconnected from others and from ourselves.
I have noticed that when I avoid a hard conversation, I often tell myself I am being patient or kind. Sometimes that is true. Other times, I am avoiding discomfort. I am hoping the other person will somehow know what I mean without me having to say it.
That rarely works.
Real communication does not have to be dramatic. It can begin with one honest sentence:
“I need more time to think about this.”
“I felt hurt when that happened.”
“I have an idea, but I am nervous to share it.”
“I do not know how to say this perfectly, but I want to try.”
Those sentences can feel small, but they are powerful. They move energy. They take what has been looping inside and place it gently into the open.
The Essence of Fierceness
The fierce part is not aggression; it embodies a profound commitment to overcoming any obstacles to the dharma. This fierce dedication serves a greater purpose: helping mankind and bringing enlightenment to all.
Fierceness, in this context, is a powerful force for good, driving individuals to act with purpose and clarity in their quest for truth and compassion.
Ask what the barrier is giving you
This may sound strange, but every barrier gives us something.
Fear may give us a sense of safety. Self-judgment may give us the illusion of control. Silence may give us temporary peace. Procrastination may protect us from the vulnerability of finishing.
If we only attack the barrier, we miss the need underneath it.
Try asking:
“What is this pattern trying to do for me?”
For example, if you keep delaying a creative project, the pattern might be protecting you from criticism. If you avoid expressing your needs, the pattern might be protecting you from conflict. If you judge yourself before anyone else can, the pattern might be trying to soften the pain of being judged by others.
This does not mean the pattern is serving your growth. It means it has a history. It makes sense somehow.
That realization can bring compassion. And compassion makes change easier.
Shame says, “I should be over this by now.”
Compassion says, “I understand why this formed, and I am ready to choose differently.”
That shift matters. We do not break free by hating the parts of us that learned to survive. We break free by teaching those parts that the present is different from the past.
Understanding the Role of Thoughts and the Body
Thoughts are useful, but they only tell part of the story. Sometimes, our mind has its own agenda. Being and staying embodied has been a huge part of my healing journey. The pinnacle of my healing and recovery has been Awareness.
The Body's Signals
The body keeps and tells the score. It communicates feelings and experiences through physical sensations. Sometimes, I notice:
A tight jaw
A heavy stomach
Shallow breathing
Restless hands
A sudden urge to distract myself
Am I overly hungry or experiencing no appetite?
Listening to the Body
When I feel held back, I try to pause and notice these physical signs. These clues help me identify what I may be avoiding and guide me toward greater self-awareness and healing.
You can try a simple check-in:
Sit somewhere quiet for a few minutes.
Place one hand on your chest or belly.
Ask, “What am I not saying?”
Notice what arrives without rushing to fix it.
Write down one sentence that feels true.
The sentence does not need to be graceful. It might be messy, blunt, or unfinished. That is fine. Honesty often arrives before clarity.
Here are a few prompts that can help:
What do I keep postponing?
What do I secretly want to try?
Where do I feel resentful?
What am I afraid people will think?
What would I create if I did not need it to be perfect?
What conversation am I avoiding?
What part of me wants more space?
These questions are not meant to trap you in analysis. They are meant to open a door.
Practice courage in small, repeatable ways
Breaking free does not always look dramatic. In fact, the most lasting changes often begin in small, repeated choices.
If fear has been holding you back, do one thing that teaches your nervous system, “I can survive being seen.”
If self-judgment has been holding you back, create something badly on purpose. Let it be clumsy. Let it exist without becoming a statement about your worth.
If silence has been holding you back, speak one honest sentence before resentment builds.
Here are a few practical ways to begin.
Name the barrier out loud
There is power in naming.
Say, “I am afraid of being judged,” or “I am avoiding this conversation,” or “I am telling myself I need to be perfect.”
Naming the barrier turns it from a fog into something you can work with.
Make the next step very small
Fear loves vague goals because vague goals feel impossible.
Instead of “I need to change my life,” try “I will write for ten minutes.” Instead of “I need to be more honest,” try “I will tell one person how I really feel about this one thing.”
Small steps count. They build trust with yourself.
Create before you evaluate
Give your creative self a protected space.
Write the draft before editing. Sketch before deciding if you can draw. Sing before judging the sound. Move your body before wondering if it looks good.
Evaluation has a place, but it should not be the first voice in the room.
Tell someone safe
Not everyone deserves access to your tender truth. Choose someone who can listen without rushing to fix, mock, or minimize.
A simple message can help:
“I am working through something, and I do not need advice right away. Could you just listen?”
That is communication with care.
Replace punishment with repair
When you fall back into an old pattern, resist the urge to punish yourself.
Try repair instead.
Ask, “What happened? What did I need? What can I try next time?”
This keeps you moving.
Creativity grows when we stop demanding certainty
Creativity is not only painting, writing, music, or design. It is the way we solve problems. It is how we tell the truth. It is how we shape a life that feels honest from the inside.
But creativity needs room. It needs permission to wander. It needs a little protection from the inner critic.
When we demand certainty before beginning, we close the creative channel. We wait for a guarantee that never comes.
The fierce invitation is to begin anyway.
Begin while nervous. Begin while imperfect. Begin before everyone understands. Begin with the materials you have, the time you have, the voice you have today.
The goal is not to become fearless. The goal is to become more devoted to your aliveness than to your avoidance.
That may mean sharing a poem. Applying for something. Setting a boundary. Asking for help. Starting over. Telling the truth. Resting without guilt. Letting yourself want what you want.
It may mean choosing one honest act today and letting that be enough.
A gentle reflection for today
If this question is still echoing, give yourself a few quiet minutes with it.
What holds you back?
Do not rush to answer in the way you think you should. Listen for the answer beneath the answer.
Maybe fear is asking for reassurance. Maybe self-judgment is asking for compassion. Maybe silence is asking for a voice. Maybe your creativity is not gone at all. Maybe it is waiting for you to stop demanding perfection before you let it breathe.
You do not have to tear down every wall at once. Start by noticing one. Touch it gently. Ask why it is there. Ask what it has cost you. Ask what might become possible if you took one step beyond it.
Today, let the next step be simple.
Name the fear. Question the judgment. Say the sentence. Make the thing. Open the door.