Upside Down

Every day I throw myself against a wall. Not intentionally of course. Some days I prep well and align my shoulders and draw everything in that should be drawn in and float, float I’m telling you, up, up and away. Then I break that beautiful moment by thinking I don’t need this wall and fall.

My handstands. They don’t happen without a wall. No matter how much I manage to hover off it I still need the wall there, helicopter parenting like a boss. I know the wall won’t let me fall awkwardly and hurt my neck (or my back or my wrists or my head), and as I have an actual visual of these things happening, along with an audio of cracking bones, the desire to believe I’ve got what it takes in the middle of the room loses out to my compulsion to not feel pain.

It is a devastating journey of self-discovery to admit that despite bursting with resolve and positivity my handstand courage needs some work.

I blame it on growing up. Where has all the old unrestrained bravado gone? Where is the girl that used to jump from the garage roof, to the shed roof to a crashing forward roll through the roses? She got scared, that’s what. (Also, she got an infection from the thorns.)

Today I tried something new. I focused on counting using the Mississippi method. My goal was to get to a solid minute. With my right leg folded in tight against my body my left leg was strong and straight. I was off the wall! I slowly stretched my right leg out, reaching up with conviction. There was a moment of pure joy, suspended in cahoots with my friend gravity in a graceful linear extension.

We should pause here. It was that good.

Then I lost count using the Mississippi method. There was cursing of the Mississippi method and all it stood for (which I presume is proper time and not my preferred pace of onetwothreefourfivesixseven) and I thumped against the wall. Again.

I don’t quite know why I’ve become slightly fixated on nailing a handstand. I’m not looking for an Instagram pic; there’s plenty of stunning arm balances out there, many on only one arm. As you do. If anything I’ve become obsessed with my fear of falling.

I’ve picked the brains of every hand standing teacher I know. I’ve read, dissected and bookmarked every article that catches my eye and I’m pretty sure I’d get top marks in the ‘Theory of the Handstand’ should I ever be called upon to, ah, theorise. Unfortunately once I’m all lined up and on my hands all thoughts of more of this, less of that, pull your ribs in, dristi point! translate into DON’T FALL, YOU WILL HURT A LOT!

So I don’t. And only in yoga are you encouraged to fall, albeit safely, until you don’t. I am up against a wall, both literally and metaphorically.

For now it’s part of my daily routine that some days feel like a progression and on others is just something I do without too much thought, like brushing my teeth. It may or may not result in something spectacular. It will most likely need a lot more core work and may involve some bravery on my part.

I got this.

– Jane

© The Yoga Connection 2015