Chuck Taylors are the devil.

A few weeks I went to a 3-hour inversions workshop taught by my yoga teacher, David. I'd been looking forward to it with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. Although I have a fairly solid yoga practice, inversions are my weak point. I can kick up into handstand and forearm balance (pincha mayurasana) as long as there's a wall behind me, and I can lift both of my legs at the same time into a freestanding headstand or tripod headstand. But once I get up there, and there's no wall to lean on, so to speak, fear takes over and I lose it (I'm okay with shoulderstands). I could swear that David's watching me during class, and that he'd been addressing me, specifically, when he would announce the workshop during class. So as soon as I heard about it, I marked my calendar and registered.

Earlier that day, I decided to forgo my regular class and take a "beginners" class at the same studio with Thomas. I wanted to warm up before the workshop, but not get totally exhausted. Also, I would have a break between the class and the workshop so I could have a snack. As it turned out, the class was was a small group of regulars, so after assessing our fitness level, Thomas ramped it up. The next thing I knew, we were jumping into handstands, balancing in bound ardha chandrasana, dropping from standing into backbends, and practicing full pigeon. He even instructed us to flip from backbend into handstand (not me - I've only done it once, reluctantly, with a wall, spotted by a teacher) and try one handed handstands (No. Just No.) Definitely not a "beginners" kind of class.

I was relieved, then, when the workshop turned out to be very basic, no fancy variations, focusing on proper alignment and foundation fundamentals. We also spent a lot of time talking about the importance of inversions, our limitations and aversions, and when not to practice them. We spend a decent chunk of our yoga practice standing and channeling energy from the earth. Inversions reverse that flow so that our energies are in balance. (Feel free to ignore the new agey chakra stuff. I understand if you might be skeptical - I used to be.) The number one reason for aversion was fear of falling. David assured us that it was okay to fear inversions - it's natural. After all, you're upside down and your perspective of the world reverses (or inverts). And the best way to overcome falling is to let go learn how to fall. The proper to fall out of headstand is to tuck your chin, release your hands and roll into a somersault. Make sure there's nothing behind you to block your exit path, like walls, props, water bottles or other people.

I had meant to ask David to show me how to fall out, but I was too busy thinking about my alignment and lost track of time. The next day, I found an empty room and decided to just simply practice falling. Well, I got up into headstand and.... chickened out. I chickened out so much that I wound up holding headstand much longer than I normally do. I did practice somersaults, though. First time since I was like, ten! It wasn't so bad. I will practice somersaulting out of headstand soon.

What exactly does all of this this have to do with Chuck Taylors? Admittedly, not much. Last week, I was rushing across the street during my lunch break to a yoga class, of all things. It was drizzling (when is it not, nowadays?) and I stepped on one of those slippery metal grates in front of BART. I lost traction in my Chuck Taylors and fell. It was one of those kinds of embarassingly graceless spectacular falls where my legs cartwheeled into the splits midair and my arms flailed about before I landed flat on my back. Literally. I was lying on the ground, staring up at the sky, raindrops pelting the entire length of my body. Everyone crowded around and tried to pick me up. Luckily, my ass absorbed most of the shock of that fall. Amazingly, I didn't land on my knees, or elbows or ankles or wrists. Just my ass. It probably has nothing to do with that workshop, but I did fall properly. There are no sprains or breaks or scrapes or even bruises, except to my ego.