Ok, I am totally stealing this line from someone else's article, but for now that will be ok because I have no shame in paying homage to those that are wiser and more well-spoken than me! Before I give away the line, the background, and original thinking on my part, comes from some inspiration and practice I did awhile ago. A very classical piece of information, something I read questioned me about what I would do if only I were not afraid. Something in me rose to the challenge that day, so I puffed up my chest feathers and decided that the one thing in my life that eluded me on fear alone (well, mostly. There might be some other things involved, like not practicing) was handstand in yoga class. I know in my heart of hearts that I am capable of doing that. Have I wanted it bad enough? Nope definitely not. I am 85% not comfortable with the idea of my strong hips and thighs balancing on my weeny little shoulders. That was a euphemism for being afraid of falling on my head and spine when the aforementioned equation goes oh-so-me-squawking-out-loud wrong.
Low and behold!
I decided to try out my newfound courage with headstand in the middle of the room at my next yoga class. I pushed higher and further than I normally like to and you know what happened - I flopped over the top, not even a little bit gracefully, and landed right on my sacrum in the middle of the very hard wood floor. It was loud and embarassing, not to mention it hurt quite a bit, which I lied about when asked if I was ok, and I had quite some difficulty walking for the next 24 hours. My immediate reaction to this valiant act was that it didn't do me any good and that it was awfully dumb because I still couldn't do freestanding headstand, let alone handstand, and now my butt hurt. Optimism stepped in and told me there was a silver lining to this, so I kept thinking about it. The only thing I could come up with was that at least now I knew what the other side was like - I now know what it's like to fall, and what it feels like when you've gone too far. How would I ever know how to find the sweet spot unless I knew exactly what it feels like on the other side? Just now I read some confirmation of this (the line I have stolen!) - if you can't go forward enough to risk falling, you won't go forward enough to balance.
And as my friends and I often reference, a fine balance is the sweet spot of life. If you have dainty enough toes to stay there.
