Last weekend, I took two workshops with Anton Mackey, a talented gymnast-turned-yoga teacher. The focus of the first was “Arm balances and lifts,” and the second “Handstands.” I signed up hoping that Anton would give us all his knowledge, and in no time, we would all be floating on our palms, slicing the air with our legs in perfect posture. I crouched there on my mat, preparing for a variation on Bakasana (Crane/Crow), a pose I’ve only recently learned to execute (for about two seconds). As I placed my knees into my armpits, they immediately slid with the sweat – we were in a heated room, after all. I kept trying to balance by shifting my weight forward, sure that I would fall flat on my face. I looked around and saw people floating, gliding through the poses and taking advanced variations; appearing truly like the cranes we were imitating. I feared I would fall. I feared that I was not good enough to be taking this workshop. I feared that I was a sham as a yoga practitioner, much less a teacher. However, Anton kept encouraging us to try, and try, and try again. “Do not be afraid to fall,” he would say. “The floor is not that far.” True, very true indeed, since the floor was about half an inch off my face as I kept slipping. “Pull the knees in from your core, hollow out the lower back,” he instructed. I kept attempting to the point of near-frustration. I know I have a lot of Pitta (fire+water element) in me, and this was only aggravating and pushing me farther towards combustion. And then I stopped. I sat and rolled my shoulders back, relaxed my neck one way, then the other. I breathed slowly and deeply. Then, I tried again. I still did not get the posture, but this time, I was at least much more mindful of my movements. I told myself, this is where I am right now, and this is perfect. Nothing, no one else, outside of my mat matters. I am exactly where I need to be. Towards the end of class, Anton gave us the analogy of a baby who must first learn to crawl, then stand, then walk, before he or she can run (or do handstands). I am still new to this. I have been practicing for only two years, and I have my whole lifetime to learn, to improve. I do not need to rush to become the next best thing since split mung beans. I just have to trust in my intention to practice to the best of my ability, and enjoy the exploration. Isn’t that what life is, after all? A journey to be explored? Too often we rush ourselves and forget the most basic of all actions, to simply breathe. And to connect with the ground, which, luckily, is never too far.
Of all the things we are afraid of, the most prominent, it seems is the fear of change itself. We seem to be hard-wired to prefer pattern over spontaneity. A lack of change means security, safety, assurance that things will go on as they have. We are only willing to change if doing so would be less painful than staying in the current situation. This is why we stay in jobs we hate, because it still beats being out in the streets. We would rather suffer a little, thinking, perhaps it builds character.
I’ve always embraced change. I enjoy trying new things and taking risk. I like life-changing events and momentous decisions. Perhaps it stems from my upbringing. From a young age, I moved around so frequently that by the age of 10 I had already lived in 7 different households, and spoke 3 languages.. As you see, there are benefits and drawbacks to being raised this way. On one hand, I had a wealth of experiences and met many different people. On the other hand, it was difficult to form lasting relationships. This has carried on to my adult life, aided by the fact that I worked for the US Navy, and also moved frequently.
This past summer, I experienced many life changes. I left the military, traveled through Central America and Mexico and went to yoga teacher training. I’ve also since moved to Chicago to begin art school. I feel as if I’ve wiped my life clean, and began again at the base with yoga, meditation, and the quest for self-realization through art.
I’ve given up all the comforts and security of the military life - a steady paycheck, free healthcare and dental, travel opportunities. And for what? A nebulous career as an artist and a yoga teacher, hustling my way through the world. Why did I do it? Because I was afraid to stay in any longer. I was afraid that I would never realize my potential by remaining in the military. And as wonderful as it was feeling secure in my job, I always felt as if I had no autonomy, as if my life belonged to someone else. And so it wasn’t the fear of change that gripped me, but rather the opposite. The fear of pattern, of no change.
A friend once told me, “I wish I was as brave as you.” This friend had been on many tours to Iraq and Afghanistan. She has seen many horrors in her life and has persevered with a happy constitution intact. She is a badass in my eyes. And yet she called me brave. Humbled by this, I told her that I didn’t see myself as being brave, but rather doing whatever is necessary for me to find my happiness. I believe that this should not take courage, but be borne of pure necessity to realize yourself. Because when it comes down to it, this is my biggest fear: that I’ll never know myself and what I’m capable of doing.
I’m currently reading The Art of Non-Comformity by Chris Guillebeau. It’s a fascinating read, full of great ideas and concepts I think about much too often. At times, it almost feels as if I’m reading my own journal. One of the chapters in the book is the importance of conquering fear.
We all have fears and insecurities, and I believe they are there for a reason. In yogic philosophy, they are called “samskaras” or past imprints that we carry, such as bad habits or thought patterns. Like these samskaras, fear manifests to be challenged or reinforced. During my yoga teacher training at Mt. Madonna Center, I learned to deal with whatever emotions or memories that sprung up. They come to the surface of the mind and we have to realize that we wield the power to do with them what we desire.
When a thought of insecurity enters the mind we can do one of two things. The first option is to say “Yes, that is true, I am a very bad/ugly/fat/uninteresting person. This reinforces the negative samskara to be able to repeat more often. The ego likes pattern, after all. Unfortunately, it does not discriminate between “good self-image” thoughts, and destructive ones. All it wants is reaffirmation of its existence and emotional power.
The other course of action to take is to obliterate this samskara. Rather than give in to the negative mindset, it’s important to change one’s frame of mind to a more positive, strong mindset. When it applies to fear, one must try to conquer it. This is the same basis under which people “cure” themselves of their phobias, by confronting their fears slowly and repeatedly.
Guillebeau writes, “fear begins with an undefined worry, a voice in the back of your head that says you’re not good enough, you won’t succeed with anything big or significatnt, and you might as well give up and stop trying to stand out.” What do we do when we hear this voice? Rather than following or agreeing with these thoughts, instead tell yourself, “NO, I will not stand for this. I am more than this. I am better than this. I can do this.”
(stay tuned for more on “Fear”)
