Wheels and Bridges

"Yoga is the journey of the self, through the self, to the self." -- The Bhagavad Gita

Was there really a time in my life when I could do the wheel pose?

I have this vague, but distinct memory of being able to do Urdhva Dhanurasana or Upward Facing Bow with the greatest of ease.

You get on your back, put your hands on the floor behind your head and use your arms and legs to push until your body forms an inverted U.

Simple, right?

Not only do I remember doing it, I remember how I used to enjoy doing it. I liked how it stretched out my back and gave me a different view of the world.

Did I imagine all that?

I’ve been going to my gym for cardio workouts—they recently hung up a heavy bag, thank God—but I haven’t gotten back to the weights yet, so I’m using bodyweight exercises for my strength training.

It’s been a while since I’ve done the wheel pose—before I needed glasses and hearing aids--but I figured it was something akin to learning how to ride a bicycle. Once you get it, you never forget it.

So, I got into position, steadied myself and pushed. And nothing happened.

It was a failure to launch. I could not budge, no strength, no power, no nothing. I just sat on the floor like a human footrest.

Watching the Wheels Go 'Round

How is this possible? I know it’s been a while, and I’m not as young as I used to be, but am I that out of shape?

I’ve been telling myself that its only because I haven’t done this particular pose in a long time and I’ll get it back with a little practice.

But I didn’t have to practice the wheel pose in days gone by. I just…did it. Now it looks like my wheel has gone flat.

I had better success doing some new qigong routines on YouTube last week.

Qigong stretches are not generally as strenuous as the ones you find in yoga and the exercises emphasize movement.

The instructor was teaching in front of a nearly wall-sized photograph of a wooden footbridge leading to a mist-covered forest.

The routine was very good, but that photo was incredible. I felt like I could actually walk across that bridge and enter a new, unexplored realm.

And the great thing is that the photo did not distract from the routine; it actually enhanced the instructor’s directions.

The entire world is a narrow bridge, as Rabbi Nachman tells us, and the important thing is not to be afraid, but I’ve have let fear keep me from crossing too many bridges for far too long.

I’ll focus on the rickety wooden slats, or worry about what’s on the other side and what’ll happen to me once I get there—if the bridge doesn’t collapse first. And what’s with all that goddamn mist?

The anxious mindset leads to inaction, which can show up in your life as hostility and self-loathing.

There’s a part of you that really wants to cross that bridge, walk through the mist and explore that forest, and it doesn’t like being overruled and suppressed.

So many bridges have been shut down since Covid-19 muscled into our lives; there’s no need to close them down ourselves.

I've found a number of videos that supposedly teach you how to do the wheel pose and I'm going to check them out.

If I succeed, great. If not, I’ll accept the situation and move on. There are plenty of other bridges waiting to be crossed.