In my hands

I met with my philosophy teacher this evening. I don’t meet with her often enough. She doesn’t push it, she lets me find my own way. We’re both finding our way.

She’s kind. She lets me talk. She hears my questions and my hesitancy. We talk about commitment and discipline, teachers and authority, prayer and invocation, light and dark, about Ganesha, Sarasvati and Surya. We talk about self-belief. Mostly about self-belief.

It always comes down to self-belief.

She gently smiles at my doubts. She offers some suggestions. I feel comforted and suddenly more capable than I could have imagined. Some part of me feels that I can do this. She seems to think I can do this. So I will try. For her, for me, for the faith that grows between us.

—-

Earlier in the day I met my handstand instructor. He’s also kind — and very patient. It’s in the nature of this practice to be constantly failing, falling, falling short, falling down. He stays steady in the midst of this movement, of my motion and emotion. We endlessly repeat a drill. “Do you have another one in you?” he finally asks. My answer is yes, always yes. I’m learning to say yes.

I’ve been practising my yes.

And in this falling down patient practice, I’m starting to fall in love. With being upside-down. Falling in love with trusting –that someone will hold me, that my body will support me. Falling in love with the person I am becoming who can do hard things, who gets stronger, who can literally feel the fear and do it anyway.

Maybe self-belief is closer than I think.

Maybe it’s in my hands, close at hand, at the tips of my fingers, within my grasp.

Maybe it’s there for the taking.

I just need to say YES.