Day 11: F-f-f-f-e-a-r

My body gives me many reasons for why it holds back in certain poses: my heels don't touch the floor in down dog because 10+ years of walking on my toes led to shortened calves and hamstrings; I put too much pressure on the crown of my head in headstand because my neck is so long that it reaches the floor before my forearms; my back doesn't flatten in seated forward bend--also probably caused by years as a toe-walker. See, my body has many reasons. Fully explainable and defensible, at least in my mind.

There is another way to look at it, though. Most, if not every, block may have some physiological justification, but the true culprit is fear. This is not a new concept, and not one that I devised or discovered; but it is not always easy to figure out. How and why I hold fear in my body is mystifying--even after years of tai chi, yoga, and therapy. And, now the old fears that I warehouse want to make room for new fears--the fears of a body that is getting older, that sometimes feels fragile and worn out.

Tonight, we practiced with a pose that forced me to invite fear over for a cup of coffee, to bake it cookies, to curl up next to it on the couch. Tonight was 25 minutes of handstand practice, most of it done nowhere near a wall. In concept, doing a handstand is not dangerous like skydiving, rock climbing, or kissing cobras. There is no complicated equipment. The body never actually leaves the ground. For goodness sake, there are millions of seven year olds across the world flinging their feet high into the air above their heads with little or no provocation.

Basically, all I'm required to do is put my hands where my feet usually are, raise my feet where my head usually is, and then just hang out for awhile in harmonious alignment. NO BIG DEAL!

Instead, as we practiced different ways of coaxing our hips to stack up above our shoulders while balanced on outstretched palms, I tried not to fixate on snapping an ulna, dislocating a shoulder, or rocketing my ass through the full-length mirror three feet in front of me. Rached showed us several techniques to help us progress to a full and controlled handstand, but one simple instruction eased the fear more than anything: "Every pose has a specific drishti, or gaze." In preparing for handstand, it is necessary to keep a soft and steady gaze focused on the floor between the hands. Each time I attended to this prompt (and told myself, "Hips higher"), my breathing calmed and the fear dissolved. It usually came back quickly, as did the pictures of my rocketing ass, but I felt the progress. Eventually, with more practice and a steady drishti, maybe I will be able to get fear off my couch, see it to its car, and wave to from my front porch--all while I'm holding a perfect handstand!