Dear Handstand

Dear Handstand,

We met for the first time six years ago and since day one you have challenged me daily.

Some days you physically get on my nerves, and other times you trigger latent feelings & stir emotions. But, no matter what, you always have me feeling something.

And, there are times it’s just the thought of you that scares me more than the actual reality of you, which is just a sign that I have to get over the fear because you’re not as scary as I think you are— but damn do you get in my head!

When you greet me with the assistance of a teacher, or a fellow yogi friend, or the wall, I do feel safer being with you. I only wish that they or it was always available, but I know that those crutches will stunt my growth and won’t help me in the long run. 

To be honest with you, I often find excuses not to face you such as fatigue, or that my left arm won’t cooperate and straighten, or I ask myself, “What’s the point?” — but every time I do face you, I certainly feel something, and it’s often a polarity like elation or disappointment—depending on the result on our time together— which tells me our relationship is conditional.

I think I love and hate you at the same time.

Sorry, not sorry.

Love, 

Me. 

Well, hello there yoga practice!

What I am describing IS the practice of yoga. It’s the practice of showing up no matter what and dealing with whatever comes up.

I once heard someone say, “What happens on your mat is a reflection of what happens in your life.” and I believe that to be true.

I’ve been a runner, and not in the literal sense, rather the proverbial one.

For many years, I was very good at running from my feelings and my emotions because it seemed easier to run, but I learned the hard way that I can certainly run but I cannot hide.

What we resist, persists—and ain’t that the damn truth.

Someone who I used to practice with daily told me that, “Attempting handstands in the middle of an empty room is a sign that you are not afraid of the unknown, or of what is on the other side, or, of death.”

That struck me.

Once I let that sink in I asked myself, "Am I afraid of the unknown?" Am I afraid of what is on the other side of that handstand?" Am I afraid of death?" I answered myself with a flat, maybe.  But, as I thought about it more I realized that I am more afraid of breaking my neck or getting hurt. 

Ah, there it is. My work. RIGHT THERE.

I am afraid of getting hurt, which translates into my fear of vulnerability. 

Poor Misses Handstand gets the brunt of my emotional stuff, but the more I look at it, she is simply a reflection, a mirror, of me.

Why is it easier to blame outwards? 

Ugh.  

I guess it’s back to my therapist's chair & Brene Brown books.

With Love & Light, 
Janine Forte
Founder of Five Star Hippie®
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

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