Finding Balance Without Popping a Rib

So, many of you know that I recently received my 200 hour yoga teacher certification over a 6 month intensive training regiment. And I'd like to share with you something I learned through my experience of spending months twisting and lengthening my body so that I looked more like Gumby. This story is about finding balance, literally and figuratively in our lives. It's so easy to go the extremes of lethargy or overdoing it. The middle path is always a lot freakin harder (well, for me at least) I laid on my back in a spinal twist to the left and breathed deep to stretch as far as I could. I had just committed to my yoga journey and gosh darn-it, I was going to be a real yogi. My instructor came over and offered an assist. With a grunt, I said yes. She helped me twist deeper and, after three deep breaths, I had twisted so much that I envisioned my body to look like Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man from above. I could go deeper. More, more, more — my mind screamed. So I grunted some more, squeezed my abs, and forced a deeper twist. And here, my friends, is where I learned my first yoga lesson. Forcing leads to injury, injury leads to pain, pain leads to suffering. I popped a rib. Forcing back the tears, I embraced that stoic machismo that young boys quickly learn the first time they cry on the football field. So, when I heard the "pop" and felt a stabbing pain in my stomach, I looked around to see if anyone else noticed. No one did, so I continued on with the class and quietly suffered on. My shavasana was a mental sufferfest. I left the class and immediately called my physical therapist. She suggested I bring my knees to my chest — even though this would hurt — and roll back-and-forth. So I did just that, popped that little ol' rib back into place, and made a mental note to never, ever, do that again. A sore stomach for the days following served as my post-it note reminder. My body had paid the penalty for this mental foul. Now, whenever I catch myself pushing too hard, my rib speaks a few words of advice: find balance between pushing and letting go. Or as Patanjali called it thousands of years ago: Sthira and Sukha. One must balance the polarity of working hard and easing back. Go too deep and you'll injure yourself, don't go deep enough and you won't grow. And this, of course, extends beyond yoga and flows into life. As a yoga teacher of mine, Richard Villella, put it: "A river when it's overflowing can move from a peaceful to a destructive force. Our mind is the same and when our mind is overflowing with noise it can become a destructive force." Going out for a run is a great idea, but if you haven't run in years, would it be wise to go run a marathon? Probably not. Working on a new entrepreneurial venture is a noble journey, but, when coupled with working a full-time job, does it hinder your ability to be a good parent, spouse, or friend? A cup of coffee is okay, but two shots of espresso in a cup of coffee? Well I'm learning today that is totally overdoing it! The lesson I'm learning with this whole Sthira and Sukha business is that when I find this balance on my journey, I end up reaching a destination that goes far beyond the map I originally looked at. My bubble of potential pops, the world is suddenly round instead of flat, and I realize I've tapped into a universal truth: There's an infinite potential inside all of us. ----------------- What about you? Has there been a time in your life when you pushed too hard and injured yourself? How do you find balance and float onward without becoming a destructive force?