half past the point of no return*

this morning I went to yoga, and walked in from the parking lot with biking buddy bob.

now bob hasn't been to tuesday morning yoga since . . . well, probably since the tuesday morning yoga teacher became the regular tuesday morning yoga teacher.

bob likes yoga, bob has been practicing yoga for years and years, but bob doesn't really like the way the tuesday morning teacher teaches yoga.

so I asked him why he was coming to yoga on this dark and early tuesday morning, and he replied,

. . . I figure it's good yoga to come to a yoga class taught by someone who's teaching style you don't like.

ah.

yep, it sure is.

it's called stretching your boundaries, sitting in discomfort, challenging your beliefs and thoughts, all of that stuff.

the stuff that a life is full of, if you're willing to take it on.

almost every day I tackle things I don't want to. things that make me uncomfortable, things that are painful, things that are hard work. phone calls I'd rather avoid, conversations I don't really want to have, questions I don't want to ask, requests I'd rather not have to make. hills that hurt to climb, asanas that are difficult and taxing, tasks that physically challenge me. creating something from nothing, and hoping it's a something that's worth something.

I can think of ways to avoid it all, but at what cost?

I've been thinking lately of max lucado's book, fearless. and pink's glitter song that asks if you've ever looked fear in the face and said, I just don't care?

fear has a nasty little way of creeping into our lives, wrapping its long pointed fingers around our every thought and wish and desire. it sometimes acts like arrogance, it sometimes pretends to be smart. other times it tells us we don't need to work so hard, expose ourselves to that, reach out, be available, be vulnerable. and then there are times when it tells us to stay small, stay safe, just be satisfied with what has always been.

yoga tells us to be still and go within, and have faith in what you find there.

fear wins when we stay home, when we stay small, when we don't risk.

and somewhere in between is the place of discomfort, the place bob pushed himself to be in today. it doesn't last forever, because at some point the scale tips and what was once uncomfortable becomes acceptable. it is---to use pink's lyrics---half past the point of no return. once you get there you realize you have the choice to stay in faith and trust, or you can let yourself slip back into rationalizations, fear, and insignificance.

so I live in discomfort, balanced on this fulcrum, waiting to edge closer and closer to half past the point of no return, where I slide into pure faith.

*lyrics, pink, glitter in the air by billy mann and alecia b moore