Gravity.

I fell out of a yoga pose the other day. It wasn’t a particularly complicated asana. I managed to ascend a mountain of balance, and while I was peeking over the edge from my sweet view at the top, gravity snuck up from behind and gave me a tiny nudge. I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the ride down. I briefly imagined my mat watching my ass heading toward it, sticking out invisible hands in protest, groaning the word “no” in baritone slow motion. It was, without a doubt, my loudest and most blatant fall in yoga. Ever.

My instructor made a joke about it being a fun pose to fall out of. I wanted to agree with that statement.

On a different day, I would have. My more familiar reaction to flubbing a pose usually involved laughing and moving on. Not that day though, it felt different. Instead of trying the position again, I surrendered into child’s pose. Then the strangest thing happened. My eyes filled with tears and I couldn’t stop a few from running down my cheeks. I didn’t feel sad, or embarrassed, or angry; the tears were the result of an emotion I hadn't felt before, one I couldn't describe in words.

I spent the subsequent days thinking about my tumble. I thought about how, on that day, I had been feeling grateful for a few people who deeply inspired me. These were people who believed in their messages and were brave enough to declare them publicly, with seemingly endless energy. I was feeling so grateful in fact, I had dedicated that practice to them. This made it even harder for me to get my head around my unfamiliar reaction to the failed asana. Why, when I was overflowing with naked gratitude, did I take a yogic slap in the kisser? And why was I even looking at it that way? The answer came a few days later, in the shower at the gym.

I created this blog over a year ago. I did so with the intention that once I left my Wall Street job for a writing career, I’d blog about my experience. I’d blog about it because leaving my job was a huge risk. I'd blog about it because I was stoked to (finally) be following my heart and a path more connected to creativity. However despite the fact that I left my job, this blog remained untouched. Sure, I had excuses. Life happened. But the fact remained I wasn’t writing enough. I wasn’t blogging (at all). My focus was out of focus.

But then I realized, in the shower at the gym, that I didn’t just fall out of a pose. Rather, I was the recipient of a gentle message from the universe, one perhaps co-signed by those inspirational people to whom I had dedicated that practice. The message was telling me to stop planning and intending, and actually start “doing". It was a wonderful, cosmic shove forward. It’s funny how sometimes it takes getting knocked on your ass to get you off it.

So here I am, ass in gear. Grateful, humbled, and energized.

And away we go. . .