Don’t Just Do Something. Stand There. (Annonymous)

Why, oh why on earth is your standing leg shaking right now?  You’ve done Warrior III a thousand times before, yet, this front quad rattles as if it’s going to collapse the instant it looses your focus.  You’re sweating.  Damnit.  Sweat means you’re working too hard.  The beads fall down the corners of my jawline and as they pass, I notice it’s state; locked.  Double dammit.  How did you get to be.  So.  Tight.  (Not in the “Hey, yo dis is tight!” sense, sadly).  As compulsionary and involuntary as breathing should be, the muscles tighten some more.  In a state of only life or death, not mastering this pose apparently equals brain-cue-to-death.  
You can do this!  Give  a little bit more.  You’re not pushing it to your edge.  Pull up a little bit harder from your front hamstring.  Ground, front heel, foot into the floor.  Core, in and up.  Shoulder blades, in and back.  Extend, tailbone, vertebrae, through crown of head.  Rotate your back thigh, inward,  pull it up.  Back heal, flex, push it away.
No!  Let it go.  Don’t give too much.  You’re making this too hard.  Face, jaw, soften.  Eyes, close.  Are you breathing?  Of course not.  In through your nose, to the pit of your belly, ribs, collarbones, back of throat.  And all the way out, softly, slowly.  I feel my jaw click back ten degrees, still, a mile far from something short of natural.
I often get lost in having too much hope.  What if this one thing, of all the infinite possibilities of things that could happen, happens?!  I often get caught up in all that is easy to despair.  That thing could never, ever happen.  Impossible.  Give it up.  There is a place in between hope and despair.  A quiet light.  Tilt your eyes ever so slightly and there it is, a raging soft spark of incandescent clarity.  Reach out to grab it, and there is nothing.  The only thing you can do is stand there.  Don’t just do something.  Stand there.  I’m standing there, here in Warrior III.  And as I do, my jaw falls back a few more degrees.  Gosh, now doesn’t that feel better?  Yes, but for now, please, no more questions.
Not until I opened this to edit did I notice the mini rainbow.  Good thing I took a second look :)  (Sherman Oaks, CA)

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