Some Assorted Thoughts On Life and Happiness and Everything, Part I

A few weeks ago, I was minding my own business in yoga class when my instructor called me to center stage. It was time, she informed me, to learn how to do a handstand.

Let me clarify that: A MOTHERFUCKING HANDSTAND.

I noted the fact that everyone in the room was looking at me, smiled politely, and said, "I've never done that before."

Understatement of the year. My instructor proceeded to tell a long anecdote about her first handstand, which took place in her very first class with a new instructor. She was annoyed with him at the time, but eventually realized that he was offering her a special place of honor in the class. Which was my instructor's roundabout way of saying the same thing to me.

Let me give you some context: this woman is one of the greatest teachers I've ever had in any subject. I go to her class every single day. In that time, I've gained seven pounds of muscle. I've grown out of some of my favorite t-shirts. My back, my shoulders, and most importantly, my heart -- all of these have opened. I feel sturdier than ever, and yet, I feel softer than ever. Something is happening to me, and yoga is only a part of it. And my instructor been with me every step of the way, knowing how far I've come, and how much further I will go. I promise you now: this woman will be a guest at my wedding. (That should preempt any "so why don't you marry her" remarks.)

Anyway, the task before me was a handstand. So I got down on my hands and knees, kicked my feet up, and my instructor adjusted my legs into position. My wrists felt as if they were going to snap in half under the pressure of my entire body's weight. But that's a sensation you often feel with every new pose: like the lady says, what you experience at any level is what you experience at every level. I held the pose for fifteen excruciating seconds, not wholly believing my own strength. The sensation was so intense that the only thing in the universe at that moment was the presence of my own strength, overpowering everything else out of existence.

And then I dropped back down. As soon as I had done it, the first thing I thought was: it didn't count because she helped me. So I immediately tried again by myself. And held the pose for another fifteen seconds. My body and mind went supernova. And then it was over.

I still can't believe it. This handstand, along with many other things in my life, would have been an impossibility nine months ago.

But every endeavor begins with a single action, performed in a single moment.

And now I find myself here.