Last Friday I went overboard.
Faced a fear and lived to tell!
I consider my yoga mat a safe haven.
Like a Kindergartener who pulls out a mat during rest period, I am content to arrive at yoga, take my mat from the shelf, unroll it, and step to it.
My mat is longer than my body and less than a yard wide. And, best of all, it is purple, my favorite color since Kindergarten days.
The yoga practice takes place 100 percent on the mat. One yogi, one mat. Some classes can be so crowded that a person might be only inches from a neighbor, but each one’s mat honors a personal space.
The yoga mat is home to every student and to every asana.
Asana is a word that has come to mean posture or pose, although the original meaning of this Sanskrit word is seat.
Originally, an asana denoted a position held at length for purposes of meditation. Today, the word has come to mean much more.
It is more than a position, more than a stretch, more than a balance.
Each asana serves as a means to open up the body’s energy channels, soothing not just physical maladies, but mental and spiritual ones, too.
There are all sorts of asanas.
Standing ones such as Utkatasana (Chair Pose), Garudasana (Eagle Pose) and Trikonasana (Triangle Pose). Ones that exercise the core like Bakasana (Crow or Crane Pose). There are even restorative asanas which include Balasana (Child’s Pose) and Savasana (Corpse Pose). And so many more.
The one in which I went overboard is from the set of inversion asanas, including the one that almost did me in: Adho Mukha Vrksasana (Handstand).
Months ago I set a new goal for myself: Handstand in the middle of the room.
Usually, I would only practice this asana near the wall which would serve as my security blanket should I begin to fall into a back bend while upside down.
If I begin to tilt while inverted, my toes can tap the wall, allowing me to realign myself, straightening my back and finding my balance.
To try for this asana mid-room, there is a part of the flow sequence where instead of remaining in a standing split, the foot on the ground can press down to go up, trying to find a few pop ups here and there before finally achieving Handstand.
I had spent a couple months trying the pop up during this sequence.
I was much more timid in mid-room than near the wall.
Safe on my mat but without the security of the wall, I would place my hands to the earth, put one foot in the air and push off with the one on the ground.
Already a month or so had passed since what I determined was a fluke when I found the balance mid-room and surprised myself in Handstand!
Since then, I had been unable to replicate that accomplishment and, in fact, in the following weeks, had played it safe in standing split without trying the pop up at all.
The other morning, I decided to give it a go. Without too much thought, I placed my hands down, lifted my right leg, pushed off with the left and slowly, but surely, found myself inverted for a nanosecond.
It was brief and nothing like a couple months ago, but I felt it!
I got so excited that I popped right out of it and stood upright.
It was over fast, but it had delivered enough confidence that stayed with me until the next time.
The next time turned out to be the following Friday when I went overboard.
I arrived at class equipped with the remnants of confidence from the other morning, some coffee under my belt and a good night’s sleep.
When the time came to give it a go, I kicked right up.
Then, what followed seemed to transpire pretty much in slow motion.
I would say I found the balance, inverted in Handstand mid-room, but really I do not think that was the case.
I had what seemed like an internal discussion while upside down.
I’m up! I think I’m balanced! Maybe not! I don’t think so! How long have I lasted? Am I bending backwards?
In reality, probably no more than a split second had passed before my legs tipped backwards, my body followed, and I called out unabashedly, OVERBOARD!
My feet absorbed most of the fall before my head followed and the rest of me landed with a splat on the ground.
I turned onto my stomach and hugged my mat while answering my fellow yogis’ concerns that I was okay, declaring that I might need another month before mustering the courage to try this asana again.
With that, I collected myself and rejoined the rest of the practice.
Safe on my mat, I realized I was no worse for the wear, and even had the fleeting thought that a month might be too long to wait to try again.