I won’t profess to be a pro at yoga. It’s been only two weeks since I began my practice–two very shaky weeks. Why I felt the need to try a headstand today, I’m sure I’ll never know, but I’m happy I tried. I’m also happy my teacher and the rest of the class had patience with me while I tried.
My hands hurt, my head began to ache, and I felt very self-conscious. My right foot landed on the floor with a thud. There wasn’t anything elegant about it, and I’m not sure why I expected it except for the fact that I’m impatient when it comes to mastery, as if there’s any such thing.
At the end of my session, while I was supposed to be focusing on my breathing and keeping a clear mind, I was thinking about my attempted headstand as a metaphor for my writing:
I need to try.
I need to focus.
I need to breathe.
I need to observe others who do this well.
I need to listen to their advice.
I need to not compare myself with others, or feel the need to compete with them.
I need to be patient with myself.
I need to be patient with the process.
I need to tell fear to take a hike.
I need to remind myself that grace doesn’t matter when you’re learning.
I need to realize that my second headstand and all the headstands after it will require just as much work and dedication.
What lessons have you learned about your writing this week?