“If we go with our knee jerk reaction to the easy, obvious choices, the short list, it’s much harder to solve our problem. We learned this from Moneyball when we discovered that a low capitalized baseball team could come in second place simply by drafting talented people that others were overlooking. ” ~Seth Godin, Akimbo podcast, “Solving Interesting Problems”

I had a breakthrough in this third series pose that’s been screwing with me for almost a year. Instead of practicing it in the same way, I tried something different–

I tried it the “hard” way. The non-obvious way. The non-knee-jerk way.

This was something I learned way back in DC as I struggled with some primary series poses, like garbha pindasana, another lotus-legged pose but with the weird “putting your arms through the little holes between your folded lotus legs” bit.

I could always get my left arm through easy peasy, but then my stickier right side– where there seemed to be less room– had no chance. Primary purgatory, stuck with one arm in and one arm out. And I liked getting my left arm through, because it was at least something. It felt good to at least get somewhere. We can’t blame ourselves for trying things the knee jerk tried and true way. That’s a dominant pattern, too.

After a time of watching my suckage, Keith Moore, my teacher then, suggested I start with the sticky side: “how ’bout you try putting your right arm through, first?”

You want me to put my sticky arm through the smallest space on the right side of my lotus, first? 

I humored him. Got the right side, alone, through– as I expected. It was sticky and small in space, but I had the wiggle room to wiggle it through without the left leg already there. But then, to my surprise, the left arm sailed through, too. Like magic. Or, like rational problem solving.

When I catch (an ashtanga backbend thing and not a baseball term), I sometimes catch high, towards my knees. The best teachers know to place my left hand up first, if not both at the same time. It’s not the obvious side to start with for my body. My right side body tends to be easier and more bendy than my left side. Sharath always did the left side first intuitively. Everything works better if my tighter side leads the way.

Let’s circle back to urdhva kukkutasana B. This pose involves swinging lotus legs up to the upper arms till you’re in a crow pose but with lotus legs. (In the B version, you start in lotus and swing the legs up, often one side at a time.) I learned I could swing my left side up. A breakthrough! Then my right would get up there, with difficulty, and then I’d be trying to walk all the way up and get STUCK! Garbha pindasana all over again–

Getting there, but not getting there at all.

Did it occur to me to try swinging my right side up first? Yes. Did I? No. The EGO in me, the Self-Sabotage in me said, NO THANKS! I LIKE TO AT LEAST KIND OF GET THERE AS OPPOSED TO NOT GETTING THERE AT ALL SO LET ME SUCK HALFWAY BUT NOT ALL THE WAY THANK YOU VERY MUCH> THAT’S NOT CRAZY OR ANYTHING I’M GOOD HERE STUCK SUCKING HOPING BUT ONLY HALFWAY SUCKING SO THERE.

Sigh.

So today I decided I was not “good” stuck here anymore. There has to be a way to solve this problem. I called a lifeline:

Kino. Or, more accurately, Kino popped up when I googled the pose (can we pause for a moment, and thank Kino for the amazing resources she has provided us?) Midway through the video, she mentions another entry (which may or may not be a cheat, but stay with me) and I decided to try it (something different), AND–

with MY BAD SIDE OR RIGHT SIDE SWINGING UP FIRST

It worked…

Ish.

Not 100%, but closer than anything else I have tried before. Mainly because my final position is closer to the real deal than ever, the height of my lotus on the arms is closer than any of my “Everest summit climb” attempts at this pose ever were. It’s gonna happen tomorrow, I know it.

To sum up– I tried a different entry, and I tried it using my non-knee-jerk, not obvious side– FIRST.

just like Moneyball. Or, garbha pindasana.

There is more than one way to get to the center of a tootsie roll. It’s not just about how many licks. Maybe it’s not about licks at all. Try the non- knee jerk, less obvious way if the pose you are working on hasn’t been working for a while. To put this another way, practice reveals patterns. I realized I was in a pattern of trying something in a way that hadn’t been working, simply because it was the obvious way, and I wanted the instant gratification of at least getting somewhere– even if that meant failing. Practice asks us to get out of our comfort zones. Turns out that failing at a posture was my comfort zone, and the real discomfort–

The notion that I might actually succeed.

Maybe the hard way, the sticky way —

is the simplest route of all.