What My Wrist is Telling Me

Today was the second time I made it to Joe Taft's Level 3 Led Practice at Asheville Community Yoga Center. But after today, you will be seeing me there every week. This is mostly because Joe's classes all seem to have a common element: ARM BALANCES (drum roll please). I have been practicing yoga now for years...steadily...and since that very first bakasana (crow pose) I have dreaded, despised, and avoided arm balances. My first time in crow pose, I immediately fell flat on my face and sprained my wrist . Since then I have sprained my wrist over and over and over and over and over and over and over (get the point?). And the problem wasn't just with bakasana, but also in adho mukha svanasana (downward facing dog), plank, adho mukha vrksasana (handstand), and lately in urdhva mukha svanasana (upward facing dog).

Cognitively, I know why I keep spraining my wrist. I was told how to avoid spraining my wrist in my second yoga class. "Press down through the finger tips, push into my fingerpads, push my forearms forward." Blah blah blah. Yeah, I totally get all of that somewhere up here in my head. I really truly get it. I can look at anyone else and tell them the appropriate actions to avoid spraining their wrists. In fact, I have touted all about correct action in the hands in almost every single class I've ever taught.

So what is the real reason I keep spraining my wrist? It's simple ...my total lack of awareness. I'm not paying enough attention. I'm being swept away by every other thought in my head...the circles of self loathing, the whistling train of reassurance, the neatly stacked piles of "to do" lists...

I'm managing to connect some of my thoughts to my body, but I seem to have this list of what is most important in a pose. Keeping my tail tucked in plank pose, lifting my hips in down dog. And then more wayward thoughts: Does my butt look saggy when I am in handstand?? I've been practicing long enough to become arrogant. Because of this I sometimes sail through my practice on auto-pilot. And in some ways I love that feeling. My practice becomes the background for my thoughts. It's like a blackboard I can scribble my mind on the whole time I practice. And in this way I become more aware of whats happening in my mind.

But then I injury my wrist. Again. The wrist injury reminds me, again, that this isn't enough.

I had a beautiful practice today. Thank you, Joe. Not because I successfully pulled off eka pada galavasana (flying crow pose), but because I worked hard to stay focused, present, and mindful. I worked hard to keep my breath smooth and even...and my wrist safe.

That's what my teacher meant when she said that every injury is a reason to be thankful, a lesson to be learned. This is what my wrist is telling me: there always exist the opportunity to become more present.