When you think about it, life can be a scary experience. And I’m not
even talking about the really scary
events; like doing a parachute jump, or going pot-holing, or meeting a huge crab half way up the steps to the
spa (in my defence it was very dark, the crab really was massive and no-one had
told me they don’t all live in the sea!). But for some of us, we have to face something that pushes us out of our
comfort zone almost every single day. It might be having to make a presentation
to colleagues at work, or squashing ourselves onto packed public transport,
removing a new arachnid resident from under the sofa, or even stepping onto a
yoga mat.
The really interesting thing about fear, is that it is such a personal
experience. By its very nature, it is usually based on an irrational response
which even you, the person holding it, can see. I’ll give you an example; I am
scared of boats. Whether they’re the size of the Titanic (you can tell from the
example I’ve chosen I don’t feel overly positive about them), or a teeny tiny
dingy, as far as I’m concerned as soon as I set foot on one it’s only purpose
in life will be to sink as quickly as possible, taking me down with it.
Even I know that on the law of averages, this is extremely unlikely. I
know that there are more than a couple of boat excursions going out and about
from around here every single day; returning all passengers in the one piece
that they set out in. I don’t even have to go any further than our own beach to
see with my own eyes that boats
aren’t considered to be a weapon of mass destruction.
When was the last time you watched a gangster movie where they
‘disposed’ of an informant by giving him on a nice day out on a posh yacht,
safe in the knowledge it was a sure-fire way of feeding him to the fishes?
Exactly! To be honest, it wasn’t really an issue before I moved to St Lucia.
Gloucestershire isn’t exactly known for it’s nautical opportunities or the
chance to live life on the ocean wave. But now that I am living on a Caribbean
island, I’m starting to get a bit irked with it. There’s the Sunset Cruise, for
a start. Every Friday evening we take guests off on a rather splendid Catamaran
to see the island, and the resort, from a whole new point of view. Then there’s
the boat trip to go and spot whales and dolphins (Flipper! Flipper!). And
wouldn’t it be amazing to go snorkelling in a secluded bay, coming
face-to-gills with a real life Nemo?
So it would seem that so far, whilst my fear likes to give me the
impression that it’s doing me a favour (“Oooh no don’t get on the boat. Listen
to me; I’m here to keep you alive, silly!) it’s actually just serving to keep
me missing what could be a whole lot of fun. But what my fear has helped me to understand, is that there are people
who think of coming to yoga in a very similar way as I do of my boats. I’ll
admit that the chances of drowning are considerably less, and I hope that no
one feels nauseous, but the feeling is exactly the same.
They have probably only listened to the stories of people having a go at
a yoga class and either finding it really hard or, at the other end of the
scale, getting nothing out of it at all. Perhaps they’ve got a friend whose hairdresser’s
brother’s cousin went to a class, had a bad adjustment by a teacher and was off
work for a week. Quite often their fear is based around the feeling that they
would be ‘bad’ at it (“Oooh no don’t get on the yoga mat. You can’t even touch
your toes. You’ll be rubbish at it. Listen to me; I’m here to keep you alive, silly!”) Sometimes the only way to slip under the radar of that little voice is
to take it by surprise. Last week, due to a slight mix-up with timetables, two
ladies came to my ‘Dancing Warrior’ class (a slightly more challenging vinyasa
flow session) by mistake, thinking it was a beginners class. They only told me
this at the end of the lesson, when they came up to me beaming from ear to ear.
They explained that they would have never had the courage to come, believing
that it would have been far too difficult for them. As it turned out, they had
a wonderful time (releasing their ‘Wild Thing’ as if they’d done it a hundred
times before!) and loved every minute of it. I think it’s safe to say that I’m not going to be the next Ellen
MacArthur, just like the folks who take their first step onto a yoga mat might
not be the next David Swenson or Shiva Rea. But who knows what potential we are
denying ourselves by listening to the voice that says “oooh no” instead of the
voice that says “ooooh – YES!”?
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