It seems a bit odd that the deeper I go into my yoga practice, the more vulnerable I become. One might think that the longer you spend in the practice of yoga that things might become easier. And in one way they absolutely do. What first sounded like “blah blah asana” is now a Sanskrit name you recognize. The general pattern of a class becomes more familiar and you more naturally find your quiet place as soon as you roll out the mat. Over time, the layers of the poses begin to reveal themselves even as they become more subtle. Instead of just trying to be in a triangle pose, you’re now connecting to the outer edge of your foot and getting interested in how your breath IS moving.
Stepping onto our mats is like stepping into a rehearsal room, where the purpose of rehearsing is to be more comfortable in our lives once we step off the mat. We tip toe our way into the practice and over time we become aware that we are like onions, slowly peeling away the multiple layers of not only our physical selves, but our thoughts, emotions and spiritual questions. Something happens through the practice, the magical alchemy of body, breath and intention, that allows us to get rid of what’s not truly serving us and focus on the things that are. Yet as we travel along, it gets a bit trickier as our lives shift like sand. What once felt solid, is now moving and how we react to all of these transitions is yet another layer of our practice.
How we evolve along this path has much to do about feeling the fear and doing it regardless. I’m not talking about taking a flying leap, but rather looking at the small progressive steps that inch us along. It means coming face to face with “stuff” that makes us uncomfortable and within that, it takes a particular sense of courage to do so. Stagnation reigns when we stay put in either body, attitude or thought. When we have fear around change we often choose not to change and stick with what’s familiar and seemingly comfortable.
Yet, if we truly listen our inner voice will whisper, “you know that if you try, you’ll grow”.
Over the past couple of weeks I’ve had two experiences where I felt the fear and did it anyway. One situation was, after riding my bicycle with toe clips for the past 25 years, I switched to real cycling shoes that clip into the pedal. On the outside, that doesn’t seem like such a big deal…we see cyclists all over the place with their ergonomic shoes making riding look easy. But for newbies to this way of riding the possibility to fall is great. If you don’t click out of your pedals quickly enough, you topple onto what’s most likely asphalt or concrete. And if you can’t clip in quickly enough, you have less force to accelerate and dodge things like cars.
Remember, I’ve been riding the “old way” for over 25 years. My bike is so comfortable and familiar to me, it’s like sliding into an old pair of jeans. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say that when I rode with my new slick shoes, I was scared. But, with the tutoring of more experienced clipless riders and some practice clipping in and out in my safe neighborhood, I headed out on a ride. Yes, it was slower than usual and I was most likely over-thinking things, but I did it. I faced the fear of the unfamiliar and did it.
The other experience was recently leading a kirtan where I sang and played the harmonium. Kirtan is a call-response gathering and we had about 30 friends over to participate. I would sing a line and they would sing it back to me. This practice offers an amazing sense of connection particularly when in a live setting. It all went well, with great energy and participation. However, the next morning during my meditation, I had an old familiar feeling in which I was asking myself questions like, “Was it good enough? Did people notice my mistakes? Who do I think I am to do this?”. In those moments, I recognized these questions as being a reflection of feeling vulnerable. I had opened myself up publicly and was wrestling with the concept of scrutiny.
Thankfully, what I have gained from a daily meditation practice is the recognition that these thoughts didn’t serve me. I had no idea as to what other people were thinking, only what I was feeling and what I felt was love and joy. I recognized that by opening to my own fears, stepping out publicly and trusting a deeper sense of myself that not only was I vulnerable, I was expanding.
When we put ourselves out there, when we face what scares the daylights out of us, when we change something consciously-we expand. The big question is: Are you willing to risk feeling comfortable to grow?
Go on…listen to that inner voice that drives you and send it out into the Universe. You might be pleasantly surprised as to what happens next.
