Still round the corner
there may wait a new road, or a secret gate.
J.R.R. Tolkien

All you have to do is a quick google search on “yoga and
fear” and you’ll learn that yoga is the path to overcoming the fear of cancer,
falling, death, insecurities, and the irrational fears that stem from
childhood. Social workers and
therapists, beware. Your (our) jobs are
in jeopardy. If people find out about
this yoga thing, we’re going to be on the bread lines.
Needless to say, it hasn’t worked out quite that way for me
–yet, anyway. Much of my new life makes
me afraid, but I’m trying to learn to embrace that fear rather than conquer
it. Nothing in my old life made me
afraid, exactly –or if I was afraid I had stomped down on it pretty hard and
did not allow myself to feel it. So, on
a day to day basis, it wasn’t the emotion driving me. Despair, defeat, feeling unlovable, the need
to put on a good public face…. those were much more the top-level emotions in that
life. Nor is the fear I feel these days
the terror I felt in the first many months of having my life abruptly
rearranged for me. No, this fear is
instructive, for the most part.
At first I couldn’t do yoga at all without having a little
panic attack. There was lots of crying
and the feeling of not being able to breathe.
How tiresome to be next to such a person in a yoga class! So yoga was exclusively at home. Then I stopped crying (quite so much) but I
still couldn’t really do anything. My
body had become unresponsive to my requests.
Annoying. So I lied to my own
subconscious. We do this all the time, without
paying much attention, but this time I did it on purpose.
I told my subconscious that I believe I can have a body that joyously
works –that does what it’s supposed to do.
I can have a body that moves through a whole range of motion –a body that is
both strong and flexible. And I’m not afraid of my
body’s apparent insistence that I am limited.
As much as I want to be able to do yoga again, even more than that I
want to question limitations. Limits
are real, but I’m tired of accepting them just because someone says they’re so (Cue the music from Wicked!). Believe me when I tell you that none of these
statements is true in the higher-order-functioning part of my brain. Frequently, I think and say quite the
opposite. But when I feel fear rising up
with that slimy “you’re not good enough” feeling, I try to figure out if it's a truth or just a thought. Even if it's just a thought, it can sit in the room with me, but I try to quiet its insistence on attention.
Which all sounds wonderful and like a perfect commercial for
yoga conquering fear. But I have a really racket-y subconscious, apparently; much like the rest of me, it's not noted for being obedient. In spite of being
able (sometimes) to turn fear into something constructive and instructive, I’m
still not wild about it. Fear is a kind
of measure that we’re facing something monumental. It may not appear to be monumental to anyone
else, but in these matters other people’s opinions don’t matter. Even little fears can hold us still. Tragically, though, waiting doesn’t make fear
go away. You either live with it and
stop where you are (a perfectly valid choice, I might add) or you stare it down
and make it go away. Why would
reclaiming my own body make me afraid, I wonder.
I think it's that I know that yoga is going to take me through a secret gate to a new place -and I'm really nervous about where that is and what that means. I can't say more just yet about what's on the other side of that gate, but I sense its presence. I guess I'll just keep looking at it, until the day when walking through it is easy and right.