I hadn’t used it in a couple of weeks in favor of my new dentist-provided old school toothbrush. Since I was feeling pretty feisty, I pulled out the electric one and fired it up.

Oh man. It barely spun. Oh no!

I turned it off, then turned it back on, and it gradually started to build up some momentum. After my allotted two minutes of scrubbing and polishing, I turned it off and smiled “that” smile in the mirror. You know the one. The I’m-gonna-see-how-clean-my-teeth-look smile. And I have a big mouth, so I can easily see all of my teeth. Yes, all of them. (Fact: In high school, my anatomy teacher measured all of our mouths and I had the second largest in the HISTORY of the high school. And it was the oldest high school in the city. I was simultaneously horrified and proud all at once. I’m sure the picture of the inside of my mouth still hangs in that classroom to this day.)

The point?

The point is this. So many times, I’ve dragged myself onto my mat, barely able to get my appendages and muscles and bones to cooperate. Sometimes this is after only a few hours from my last practice, but more honestly, sometimes it’s after weeks or a month. I seem barely able to spin enough to get everything going in order to “scrub and polish” within my practice.

I’m happy to report that most of the time it all still works. Some days not as fluidly. Other days without missing a beat. And at the end of practice, I can smile that goofy smile.

I have passed the smile on to the next generation. You're welcome.

You know the one.

Related posts:

1. Sunshine and stars.
2. Yes or nope.
3. The art of whispering.

But why the need to escape? Fear of what? Let’s look more closely:

Fear of embarrassment. I can’t do it. My body doesn’t move that way. I’ll look ridiculous. I’ll fall over or down. I’m afraid I’ll pass gas (Yes, I said it. You know that you’ve been afraid of that one! There’s even a pose referred to as “wind relieving pose.” In a public class? No thank you!).

Good ol’ competitiveness. I won’t be able to perform the pose like that person over there. I used to be able to do this when I was in better shape/younger/more flexible/insert here, but now I can’t.

Fear of pain or injury. I broke my ankle a while back and I don’t want to balance on it because I don’t know if it will hold me. I can’t go upside down! I might fall or my arms aren’t that strong.

These are all very, very valid feelings. And they are important. These all keep us from putting ourselves at risk of injury, make us feel in control, and allow us to skirt what we may see as failure.

But what if we could succeed?

What if, by faith, we take a chance and taste the sri? Taste the abundance, the joy, the grace and beauty of falling back into the Divine and being caught by it? Open to something bigger than ourselves by allowing our yoga to emerge from deep inside?

Here are some ways I will dance with sri this week:

• Lean way back in side plank pose (vashistasana).
• Give in to a piece of dark chocolate. Savor.
• Smile at someone, as a gift.
• Skip like a goofball with my four-year-old. In public.
• Grab my husband’s cute booty without giving a flip about whether or not it seems appropriate. And then let him grab mine, even though it’s not nearly as firm as his.
• Practice handstand – one foot further away from the wall.

How will you dance?

Related posts:

1. Music. Sweet, sweet music.
2. Intermediate Class: Pincha Mayurasana. April 22nd.
3. Hip/Shoulder Opening Sequence.