Falling Over in Tree Pose: Practice over Perfection

Karen Odden – every other Thursday 

I have been practicing yoga, on and off, for about 15 years. Mostly off, because there were several years when I didn’t do yoga more than once or twice and some years when I did not go at all. But of late, I’ve returned to it, visiting my local yoga studio once or twice a week. From a physical standpoint, it’s a good counterpoint to the hiking I do most days. It keeps me from turning into someone with the flexibility of a stick. 

For those who don’t practice yoga, this is what the tree pose is supposed to look like. For me, it’s difficult. I have arthritis in both feet, so balancing is not easy. I fall pretty much every time. In class, I choose a spot near a wall, so I can grab for it, if I need to. (I used to imagine being the first domino that falls over, causing everyone else in my row to crash. I'd wonder, Should I warn the person next to me that this is possible?) 

It doesn’t really matter that I can't do tree pose – I will never be fabulous at yoga, that’s not the point. Besides, I think there is a certain pleasure in doing something you know you're never going to be good at, right? No pressure. You just sort of do it and laugh. 

Why do I find myself going to yoga now? I can think of a variety of reasons. Maybe it’s a “turning 60” thing, becoming more at ease with the idea that we’re all flawed beings, who try and fail, who don’t always bring our best selves to the table ... like yesterday, when I found myself cursing a blue streak at my printer which was suddenly and for no good reason flashing OFF LINE at me in all caps. But yoga helps me remember that many of the moments when we lose it, the moments of frustration -- and certainly when they’re a month in the rearview mirror -- are about as consequential to the world as falling over in tree pose in a yoga class. 

Maybe I'm gravitating to yoga again because, over and over, the instructors say, It’s your practice. The important thing is to keep showing up. If I have a New Year's resolution, it's the same every year: do your best to show up. That includes at my writing desk. But also for my people. And the flip side of this resolution matters too: to recognize when other people show up for me, let it sink into my heart, and thank them.

Maybe it's also because I have just finished edits on my first Kit Jimeson book and am now starting the next one. (Yoga focuses on deep breaths, in and out. Necessary when you're on page 1 of 300.)

And maybe, too, it's because there is a spiritual element to yoga.

This makes me think about the book I mentioned in my last blog, From Strength to Strength. Arthur Brooks writes a chapter about the importance of spirituality, especially in the second half of life, partly because it connects us to something larger than ourselves.

Brooks is Catholic. I myself was raised Catholic and veered away from the church in my 20s for various reasons; I was married in the Episcopal church, which was more in line with my values. I’m not particularly religious now, and I don’t attend church more than on Easter and Christmas, to take my mother-in-law, but I do appreciate that yoga has a spiritual element, core values, tenets, pillars, rituals, practices – much like an organized religion – that feel right to me.

Yoga also makes me more aware of the power and importance of the moments when I am part of something larger than myself – when I practice something in a group, with all of us doing it in our own ways but still together in the experience. This means when I write collaboratively (with my writer friends, exchanging our drafts); when I read a book my friends are reading, so we can discuss it (book clubs); when I cook with my family. And when I practice yoga, where, at the end, I bow my head in gratitude for the aspects of our culture that privilege practice over perfection and process over productivity, and that value just showing up. Namaste. 

Oh, look at that! As I inserted the photo of the book, I realized ... the cover of this book is all trees. Posing properly!

If you have a practice that you love, something that makes you feel grounded or connected to something bigger than yourself, please do share in the comments. (I promise I will not always wax so philosophical. 'Tis the year's end, 'tis season.) Thanks for reading.