Choosing to Dance

Last month, I wrote about the arm-balance class I tried; and how it helped remind me to practice self-compassion. I definitely needed self-compassion for the handstand class! But like yoga itself, a little practice went a long way. I never quite made it into a handstand, but instead of dwelling in frustration I applauded myself for trying.

The many faces of Crow pose

Actually, I was pleased I’d tried it at all, even if I only managed to lift my feet a significant distance once out of all my attempts. It was scary, staring at the floor with only my

wobbly elbows between my nose and the carpet. I wasn’t quite sure I was even going to go

through with it at first, because I’d hit my nose enough times doing Kakasana (Crow Pose) to

know I really didn’t want to drop face first from even higher up. But I wanted to try it, so I did it

anyway. And I was proud of myself when I did.

Thinking about it now, I’m reminded of my son when he was about three. I’d taken him

to a local museum, where we were lucky enough to see a performance by a Native American

dance troupe. At the end, they invited the audience to come join them in a simple circle dance

holding hands. A few of the children and even more childless adults refused, possibly because

they felt awkward shuffling in a circle while holding hands with strangers (I certainly did). But

when I asked my son if he wanted to dance, he said, “yes.”

We shuffled awkwardly in a circle together and it’s one of my favorite memories. I was so proud of him for choosing to dance. I haven’t always chosen to dance myself—literally or figuratively—and it’s almost always been out of fear: fear of looking stupid; fear of feeling awkward; fear of falling on my face. I’ve always regretted it.

Sometimes shuffling awkwardly can lead to lovely memories. Choosing newness, choosing to dance, may allow a shared adventure.

One of the many great things about yoga is how often I’ve had the opportunity to face

those fears. To a student like me, yoga offers no small number of poses that initially feel

awkward and stupid, or worryingly easy to fall out of. And sometimes I’ll say, “no,” and leave

the new pose for another time. But more often than not, I’ll think of my kid in that dance circle,

or my regrets, and say, “yes,” and give it a try. The sense of pride is worth it.

I hope, if you have the choice, you’ll choose to dance too.