I fell on my head. It was the shot heard round the Mysore room.

Allright, it was more like a crack—the sound of skull hitting earth. Which, in effect, it was:

Mine. My head meeting the floor.

Let’s back up to my earliest drop backs, all the way to September, 2012, Washington, DC.  I was brand new to finally doing some drop backs on my own, new to dipping my toes deeper into Mysore magic, new to the end of primary series, new to DC, and a newish mother, nursing a babe.

People assume that drop backs were easy for me to learn because I’m a natural backbender. But guess what else comes naturally to me?

Fear! You know that thing free-solo climber Alex Honnold has? Well I’m like the opposite of that.

So dropping back scared the shit out of me. It felt like I was being asked to participate in a ridiculous trust exercise: free fall and hope a coworker catches you! but the coworker is now a hard wood floor). Luckily, Keith Moore and Peg Mulqueen were leading msyore a lot. They worked with weighting my feet to keep me grounded while I went back.

But I was still scared– even as I gained enough confidence to lose the training wheels and do my first drop backs solo. And it was right there — in that newly-doing-but-still-scared-cranny — when I fell on my head.

Yep, we’re back to that crack. I was dropping back led by fear, going fast, without breath. Whoosh! I threw my body back in a blink and I bent my elbows a lot as I came down, such that my head hit the floor at the same time as my hands.

Crack!

Forget dristi: Everyone in the Mysore room looked up. The teacher had a look on her face that read: I’m trying not to freak out even though I’m totally freaking out!

I was fine, physically (though falling on my head might explain a few things): there was no actual crack in my skull (my head came down equally with my hands, so it was more of a mild bump).

Mentally I was a mess. The thoughts came as fast as that fateful drop back, the anxiety pattern working in its well-worn grooves: This is the worst thing that could happen to someone like you, Jean. You were already scared of doing this, already scared you’d end up leaving the mysore room on a stretcher– what happened here today is the very scenario you were afraid of! You tried to convince yourself it would be ok, and look — it WAS NOT OK! you fell and hit your head! how are you ever going to do this again? You are going to be that girl–

the one who quits, the one who can’t do second series, because you are too afraid to drop back! (and rightfully so!) QUIT!

I stood in the doorway and felt the story tear me down. But something new happened, too: I talked back:

No. I don’t like this story. I don’t want another “jean doesn’t do x” story–
With a life spent welded to anxiety I already had plenty. But yoga was different a place for new stories. I was different with yoga: I was more me. Unwelded.

I made myself drop back again. Because this is  key– I’ve done this with ski runs I’ve tumbled down, rope climbing after I dropped someone (my husband; he’s alive– but still suspicious). I knew I had to come back and drop back again. And again. And… I’m still doing it.

A few takeaways from my dropback “journey”

1: Everyone Doing Fancy Poses on Insta Was Once a Discombobulated Nincompoop. Ok, maybe just me. But really, there was time when everyone you know doing insane looking stuff on Instagram was scared, new, struggling with that very insane thing. I daresay if Kino had possessed an  insta account many pre-insta moons ago when she began her world takeover, you would see Kino… maybe break a sweat? I was afraid to drop back and I struggled. (There is one video of my first drop backs and I don’t have the guts to post it). I struggled with putting my leg behind my head, my arms through in lotus; I fell out of forearm stand like 365 days in a row, my jump backs are TBD…. ok that’s enough for now.

A picture is worth a thousand words– but in Instagram Yoga, a picture obscures the thousands of practices that make that picture happen (not to mention the filter).

2–Don’t Drop It Like It’s Hot: I fell on my head because I was scared. Breath did not guide the movement– fear did. Hence my insane hyperventilating exhale, backward hail mary move hoping the floor would catch me. Alas, it did (Along with my head). Friendly reminder: “you smooth out the breath, you smooth out the mind, you smooth out the pose” (that’s a Mary Taylor-ism for you!).

3- Don’t Be Like Me– Backbend Like You: I haven’t always been this smooth with drop backs but I have always been bendy. Because my spine is genetically composed of a well-cooked pho noodle, my drop backs have evolved to mean mostly straight legs and feet that move little. This isn’t true for everyone. Most of the time knees bend, feet turn out, and so on. I highly recommend reading David Keil’s anatomy book: Here’s a link to taste from his blog on drop backs. We’re practicing yoga, so forget my backbend; take a seat in your own divine asana.

4-Don’t Drop Back, Root Down And Grow Up: So, backbending deserves a separate post (working on it). But let’s dip in just to say this is about my legs (David Robson has a recent insta post on this– funny how non backbend types and backbend types share this in common!);

indeed David Keil speaks to the chain up the body from those feet — check out the accompanying video:

As for me, I think of myself in ekam, in tadasana– the entire time. That’s how much I am in my feet. 

(this is biting me in the butt though with tic tocs– I’m so used to grounding my feet that I need to learn to come back onto my hands to jump back over!)

Finally (maybe) here’s another to check out, from ashtanga dispatch! 

Spoke too soon– here’s Kino!

5- Your Worst Fear May Not Be That Bad — And Might Even Open The World. I fell on my head. I’m still standing. Maybe even better. Dropping back is one of those things in ashtanga: your life pivots. Certain poses shift your world vision tectonically. I felt this shift after dropping back, after standing up (it’s own hurdle), after lifting up into urdhva kukkutasana.

But dropping back made for a double pivot, a super worldview revolution. Not because I executed the movement– but because I did so after realizing my fear. Dropping back became the first time I talked back to fear and so I began to become someone new– or maybe more me. I began to talk back to fear, everywhere.

I’m still working on that–like it’s hot.

• Note: Do not try this at home. Work with a teacher. This is a movement to do when you are ready. And it helps to have help!

(cover photo by Dustin Ellison)