Author’s note: I won’t make excuses for why I haven’t blogged in over a month. I just haven’t felt inspired to do so. I guess I’ve been a bit depressed about not riding, Janky, that tired old tale. But Janky is showing signs of improvement, I’ve got a trip to Fruita and Moab this month to ride some of the most epic and luscious singletrack in the world, and I think I have my writing mojo back, as the following story would bear witness. You tell me. Right on, ride on.
~Uma
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Nearly eleven years ago I was still making excuses about why I couldn’t start teaching yoga. The ‘what ifs’ overwhelmed me: What if I didn’t know enough? What if I was wrong? What if I wasn’t good enough? I’d been practicing for years already. I was sure I wanted to teach, to share the gifts of yoga with others, but I had excuse after excuse about how I just wasn’t ready.
Doubt is a psychological cancer and in my life it has required a sort of mental bone marrow transplant to overcome it at times. This particular bout was sent into remission by a beautiful, amazing woman named Callie. She was my friend, my teacher, my mentor, and a radiant example of what life could be like without the paralysis of doubt.
Callie saw through my excuses and called bullshit on it by matter-of-factly informing me over lunch one day that I would start apprenticing and teaching some of the basic classes. This was not a suggestion, this was an order. Old school old world yoga ways. I knew the sequences by heart, but now I had to figure out the dialogue, brush up on areas where my anatomy was weak, and overcome my stage fright. I was leaving for a European vacation the following day, and I had three weeks’ to prepare, mentally. I was clearly expected to begin teaching when I got home.
The morning I returned from Paris I got the call.
“She’s dead” the caller informed me. Continue reading ‘The Art of Falling: A Love Story’
