I started off pretty successfully tonight, and I felt absolutely invigorated, stretching every which way, sweating profusely, focusing immensely on the various positions into which I had contorted my body. But when I had entered the yoga studio tonight, I wasn’t feeling quite as confident. In fact, when I entered, I flashed back to the last time I tried hot yoga. Yes, I sweat similarly, stretched every which way, but that fateful time two years ago ended with me stumbling from the room, tripping in puddles of my own sweat on the way out, only to be greeted by patrons of the yoga studio with Dude, are you okay?
So trying hot yoga again was a little disconcerting. But I learned a few things from my last attempt. I didn’t eat a big meal beforehand, I didn’t go in the hot room a half-hour early, and I sat down when I needed to. It seemed that reflection on my mistakes from last time–reflection, not dwelling–helped me to succeed this time.
I’m grateful I tried something at which I had previously failed. For me, it’s difficult to approach a situation that, in the past, has turned out unfavorable. Maybe that’s why I beat myself up for past mistakes, or maybe that’s why I dwell on past failures. Tonight’s yoga attempt was a blast, no doubt, but it was symbolic of more than just inner balance and physical wellness; it was also symbolic that we can try things–things at which we’ve failed before–and the results can be favorable. In fact, they can be more than favorable; they can be enjoyable.
I’ve been pretty terrified recently and terrified of lots of things. Terrified of what life will bring, terrified of loss, terrified of being in love–terrified of lots. Perhaps it’s due to the mess of the unpredictable events that have comprised 2013, or maybe it’s because I have been feeling like I screwed up some of these things when they came around the first time. In the midst of my mid-twenties, and likewise, the midst of reevaluation, I have been frozen, at times afraid to move, terrified to repeat what’s already happened and experience the accompanying emotions.
But it seems that we can never know the outcome of a second attempt–until we try. In fact, if we spend all of our time being terrified of the “second” outcome, then we are only setting ourselves for failure–failure that is an absolute certainty.
Really, we’ve have no choice but to try and hope for the best.