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On not being able to be a frog.

Malasana. Usually if something has mal in front of it, it’s bad. Like malcontent or malnourished. So to say that I am terrible at malasana is probably an understatement. First, we should get one thing straight. There aren’t a lot of poses that I’m great at holding or even getting into. I’m not bad at standing balances, although I have tons of room for improvement. And sometimes I can get my forehead to touch my knee. But most of these happen because I am somewhat flexible. I’m glad I got that off my chest. Ok, so now we know that I’m not great at a lot of things. But if you could win an award for being bad at a pose, I’d probably win it for this one. Or horse. Maybe that one too. And both of these have to do with my hips. I’m adding this to my to do list for nights when I have nothing to do.

Note to self: Practice frog and horse. Sink low. Open hips. [PS: I actually added this to my reminder list in my phone.]

But that’s not what I wanted to talk about today. Today I wanted to talk about how I was trying to dive deeper or just let go or one of the intentions we’ve been working on, and I pushed myself to do this flying frog pose. And then I fell out of it, slapped the ground, and the whole class collectively turned and stared at me. I didn’t slap the ground out of anger; my hand slipped when I fell or my hand slipped and made me fall (which is the story I’m telling myself) and I reached out to make myself not fall, and all my weight hit the ground through my hand. It sounded like I dropped a stack of books in a quiet library without carpet. Yeah, that was me.

If you don’t count my pride, falling didn’t even hurt. But for the rest of class, the only thing I could think about was the fall. Even in our final resting pose, I couldn’t be still, and I couldn’t move past it. Two days later, and I’m still thinking about what I should have done or could have done differently.

See, I am a bit of a perfectionist. And possibly, the worst kind, because if I can’t do something well, than often, I don’t try. Who wants to fall? Who wants to be embarrassed? I just roll my eyes when I see those “What if I fall, but oh my darling, what if you fly” type of signs. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the possibility. And probably they’re fine for other people. However, if I don’t try to fly, than I’m not going to be embarrassed when I fall.

Except, if I keep up that kind of attitude in yoga, I will never get any inversions or arm balances. I’m kind of glad I have been thinking about it for two days because I feel less embarrassed about falling and more excited that before I fell? I’d lifted both feet up for a millisecond. Thankfully, I am learning (slowly) that it’s not perfection, it’s practice. I think this might become my personal mantra. Practice. Practice. Practice.