I recently read a review of "In Celebration," a play that opened on London's West Side. The reviewer makes the following comment about Orlando Bloom's performance: "It's not a challenging role but he remembers his lines and doesn't bump into the furniture." On the surface, this may seem like a slap in the face, but after careful consideration, I've decided that the reviewer may be on to something. Maybe we expect too much from ourselves. Maybe, as we climb into bed at night, we shouldn't focus on what we didn't do, but instead we should pat ourselves on the back if we "remembered our lines and didn't bump into the furniture."
Case in point: Yesterday, I went to my first yoga class. Although I am extremely uncoordinated, I managed to keep up with the instructor, except a few times when she was in downward facing dog, and I was still in high push up position. I learned that it's an easy mistake to correct, just stick your butt straight into the air. If only all of life's mistakes were this easy to correct, or could be remedied with this solution.
I stayed right with the instructor as she lifted her leg while in downward facing dog. I even managed not to giggle. I find that it's hard to giggle when you can't breathe. I stayed right with her as we literally tied ourselves into tight little balls. However, despite my growing confidence, I stopped short of balancing on my hands while tied up in a ball. I saw her do it and thought, "I thought I'd have to buy tickets to Cirque de Soliel to see that kind of thing." The most amazing part of this whole display came when she continued to instruct, all the while balanced on her hands, tied in a tight little ball. "Do what's comfortable for you but don't limit yourselves," she said in the same soothing voice, straight into the floor, "Try to create space between your rib cage and your pelvis. Settle into the stretch." I thought, "If I settle any more, you're going to need to call the paramedics to untie me." Then, just as amazingly, she uncoiled in a slow fluid motion, not like a spring that's been released, which was my uncoiling strategy. I'm happy to report that I did not say "Boiiing!"
Now, I could beat myself up about not even trying to balance on my hands while tied in a ball, or my ungraceful "release." But, I'm not going to do that. Instead, I'm going to remember that for the majority of the class, I "remembered my lines and didn't bump into the furniture." It helped that there wasn't any furniture - but hey, it's a metaphor. Work with me.
So, I offer this advice - focus on the little successes in the day. If Orlando Bloom isn't enough inspiration, think of the woman in yesterday's blotter. Seems she was run over by her own truck. She stopped the truck and got out. The truck started moving and as she tried to get back in, she fell. Under the truck. She was taken to an area hospital and treated for unspecified injuries.
As you climb into bed tonight, don't think about all the things you didn't do, but instead drift blissfully to sleep thinking, "Sure, I didn't do those things, but I wasn't run down by my own vehicle." Unless you were. In which case, I'm sorry.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
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1 comment:
That pose is called the crow, and I can't do it either. (I'm chicken because I am a fatty which means I have more to hold up, even if my instructor says its all about balance, not strength). Every time I watch people do it, I envision someone falling on their face and smashing their nose on the floor. Blood will spurt, paramedics will be called, plastic surgeons will make money.
It never happens, though. People always land on their feet, even if they can't hold the pose.
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