I fall over in handstand.
I try, I miss, I get afraid, I fall. I am not one of those effortless inversion mamas, deftly floating from pose to pose. I admire those practitioners, marvel at their grace. I’ve been afraid of handstand since I fell out of it over four years ago.
I have other sins.
I am not consistent in my practice. I do not arrive every day on my mat at 6 AM. I arrive late, get flustered, leave early to get to meeting. My mornings are derailed by the previous evening’s glass of wine, a netflix binge, or the simple deep heart angst of an existential day. I get consumed in work, become anxious, forget to meditate, and catch myself texting when I should be listening.
I beat myself up, wonder what the point is, then am suddenly struck by the beauty of the autumn leaves. And I am reminded for a moment – a glimpse that is breathtakingly beautiful – that I am alive.
I breathe, remember myself, and return to practice.
And fall over in handstand.
But today in practice, I realized that the point isn’t actually to do handstand.
The point is simply to try. To show up.
Regardless of the wine, the netflix binge, the boyfriend fight, or the existential crisis. Show up anyway. Or in fact, because of the wine, the netflix binge, the boyfriend fight….to return. To come back. To breathe. To feel. To try to do handstand, again. To fall. To try. And to return the next day.
The point of our yoga isn’t achievement, but our there-ness. Our showing-up-ness. To remember, just for a moment, that we have a space inside us that is beyond distraction. Beyond success or failure.
A space of goodness that simply is.
And we are enough.