Phase 1: I am a yoga God.
The first few breaths, I was good. I nailed it. I looked at the mirror and gave myself a mental wink and applause. Two thumbs up. A standing ovation. I glanced around to see all the little bonsais struggling to grow as tall and powerful as I was.
Prior to that, I had already checked that my hips were in line, and that I was engaging my legs. I looked at my reflection in the mirrors to make sure that I didn’t look too serious, that my gaze was soft, that overall I was ready for my killer Yoga Journal cover photo. I also checked my six-pack. I made a mental note: more core work tomorrow and no chocolate tonight before bedtime. I felt the ego-spotlight growing on me. The ego always whispers in your ears the things you want to hear. Makes you feel like you own it. Like you are the star of your own reality show. The ego disconnects you and separates you from reality. It creates an image in your mind, an illusion—a fake reality.
Phase 2: Take me out of here. Call 911. And get some coconut water. Now!
After almost 2 minutes holding the damn tree pose on one side, all the fabulosity and glamour of the first few seconds melted away in tears of desperate cold sweat running down my forehead and burning my eyes. I started to feel an 8.0 earthquake was happening right below my feet in Queens, NY. Could that be possible? What was happening to me? Performance anxiety?
An even stronger natural disaster started to happen in my head. My mind started to vomit questions and judgments like someone who is drowning and gasping for air:
- Why did I come?
- This is not fair!
- Why am I doing this?
- I came here to relax!
- When is this sh** going to be over?
- wowowowow Why can’t you just stay still, damn it!
- I should have stayed home watching “True Detective”
- Teaching all these years and you still cant hold tree pose!!!
- They are looking at me! I need to get this right!
- I should be doing handstand not tree!
- This is supposed to be easy!
- And so on….
I noticed that the moment I tried to look at someone else’s bonsai tree to feel better about my downsized foreclosure tree, it felt ten times worse. The moment I tried to compare other people’s postures to mine we all got deeper into the storm, like a domino effect. The moment I got carried away with these thoughts I lost sensitivity in my feet, my foundation, my focus. I was a mental mess.
To be in the posture required me to be in the moment. It’s as simple as that. The posture required so much focus that I needed to reach deeper within me. Move beyond the superficial layers of judgmental thoughts and reach deep to my core to be able not to “hold” the posture, but to be in it. There was no shortcut. I needed to be fully present physically and mentally. And stop listening to the BS in my head.
Phase 3: Chill dude. Breathe. You got this.
The moment I focused my attention on a point and began to trust, my tree seemed to become rooted down to the center of the earth. I felt I could stay there, without blinking, until the crew came that night to clean the floors.
For the first minute-and-a-half my mind had gone machete on me. But after the storm, came the calm. I blossomed in a taller, greener tree. And it felt like the whole room became brighter, a forest of tall healthy trees. It was as if the perfect Instagram filter graced the studio. My thoughts slowed down, and I felt more intention. I remembered my morning meditation. Although I still felt challenged, I was much better equipped mentally and physically to face the challenge. I sent a wave of sweaty compassion and kindness to all my fellow trees in the room and all the trees around the world.
I read somewhere that your mind is the muscle of mindfulness and awareness. Just as we train our bodies, we need to train our minds.
When we switched sides and did tree pose with the other leg, it was a walk in the park. I wasn’t struggling and making such an effort. I was still looking in the mirror at my reflection. But I was seeing something deeper than that.
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