Pay Attention!

Attention is critical. Especially if you suffer from ADOS (Attention Defi… Oh Shiny!) And once again, I was reminded of this critical fact yesterday during my yoga class.

 

Having been absent from yoga for about two weeks while recouping from the bug that has been plaguing much of Orange County, I decided to approach class last night with a spirit of caution. Moving slowly, but methodically, my inner-voice rang out with a confident Obama-like, “Yes, you can!” Nearing the end of the class, I just knew that I could do anything. I felt great. I felt confident. And yah… I felt cocky.

 

“Who would like to do some inversion?” the instructor asked. Several hands including my own darted into the air, as we all expected either some form of shoulder-stand or plow-pose. “OK,” she said in a calm and serene voice. “Who would like to try a headstand?”

 

As I saw the hands quickly pull back from the air, I raised my hand in a bit of confident arrogance. Typically, we don’t do headstands in yoga classes. Most of the instructors are a bit leery of trying something that could potentially lead to a medical lawsuit. So the opportunity only comes up at rare times when the class is small enough for the teacher to really keep an eye on people. Now, having practiced headstands several times at home, I’m fairly comfortable with them. I enjoy doing them. They feel good. And yes, I will fully admit my hubris here – I was riding a bit of a cocky high from having done so well throughout the hour that I felt like showing off a little.

 

“OK,” she said. “How ‘bout if you move your mat over to the wall so we can prepare.”

 

I thought that was a bit weird, as I had never needed the support of the wall before, but hey, what the heck. And hmmmm… nobody else is going to try this. I wonder why.

 

“Now,” she said. “To prepare for a handstand, you will need to…” “Handstand?” I thought to myself. “HAND STAND?!!!!!!!!! As in standing on one’s hands?????!!!!! HOLY F*$&! I thought she said HEAD stand! I can’t do a handstand!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

But by this point, it was too late. I was already up there. I was the class guinea pig. And to make matters worse, I could feel my cocky confidence suddenly dart out the door. My toned pretzel-boi ohm-yogi self quickly checked out to be replaced by a relief crew manned by my inner fat five year old, incapable of doing even the most basic of exercise. Yes, Epic Fail was about to happen.

 

Demonstrating the move, my instructor posed with her hands in the air, demonstrating how with a bit of a gymnastic bound, she could dive up on her hands, plopping her feet up against the wall, standing vertically on her hands.

 

“HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!!!!!!!!!!” I thought to myself, realizing that it was time. All eyes were on me, and nobody was making a sound. It was time… it was time… it was time. I could feel my heart race as I faced the wall that I was quite literally about to hit. And as I began my dive, little Joey began to cry out. “They are all looking at me. THEY ARE ALL LOOKING AT ME!!!!!!! WHY ARE THEY ALL LOOKING AT ME?!!!!!!! I’M GONNA FAIL! I’M GONNA FAIL! I’M GONN…”

 

CRASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!

Slooooooooooow collapse over.

Thunk.

Owwwwwwwwwwwwww.

 

I really am not quite sure what was worse – the restrained giggling that came from those bitches my classmates, the crushed pride, the fact that I landed right on my head with an audible kaboom, or the pained look on my instructor’s face. Wait… I know what was worse – the fact that I’m an idiot that doesn’t know when to quit!

 

“That was a good try,” she said. “Now here’s another way to help get yourself used to the move.” She then demonstrated a more basic method (which probably WOULD have been the better starting point) where she started off in a modified down-dog, then kicking one leg into the air, and then the other. Like an idiot, I tried my own version, all the while trying to get my inner five year old to sit down, shut up, and quit crying. I got into Down-Dog. I began to work on the kicks. I had one leg up. And then I tried the other…

 

CRASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!

Slooooooooooow collapse over.

Thunk.

Owwwwwwwwwwwww.

 

At long last, my survival instincts kicked in. Despite the pained look of concern on my instructor’s face, I smiled to indicate that no damage (other than to my hubristic pride) had occurred. “Wow,” I said. “I think I’m just gonna have to try practicing that at home.” I said, all while trying to muster up as much bubbly enthusiasm as I could, having just crashed on my thick skull for a second-time in a row… and in front of a roomful of witnesses.

 

For the remainder of the class, my instructor tried to offer up as much personal attention and sympathy as she could. She made a point to adjust me very carefully during the final resting pose, and in the final meditation she made reference to not being too self-critical of failure, but recognizing bravery at trying new physical challenges. “OK, OK, OK!” I thought to myself. “Can we please put no more spotlight on this unfortunate incident”.

 

Immediately after meditation, I began to fold up my mat and grab my stuff. I then felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning, I faced my instructor who was offering a sweet look of “are you ok?” I smiled, determined to persevere, but wanting nothing more at that moment than to crawl under a rock until everybody who had witnessed my embarrassment either forgets or dies. I continued to smile. I winked. I packed up. And I got the heck out of Dodge as quickly as possible, hoping that maybe I could escape my embarrassment by perhaps drowning in the Jacuzzi.

 

Now I suppose the inner Polyanna in me could find a way to put a positive spin on this. Yeah me! I faced my fears! Yeah me! I tried something new! Yeah me! I challenged myself! Yeah me! I did something nobody else was willing to try. Etc., etc., etc.

 

But who am I kidding? The fact is, I got cocky. I wasn’t paying attention. And I paid the price.

 

The lesson to be learned? Always pay attention before agreeing to be a yogi’s guinea pig!