I hate being wrong.
Well, it’s not so much having to be right (ok, go ahead and disagree on this point, friends), but there’s discomfort in not knowing. This is revealed in my behaviour when I can’t rest until I look up the answer in Google / refer back to an email / Shazam the song / IMDB the actor. The correct answer is a new morsel of information to be learnt and shared (or if proven wrong, maybe just ghost out of the conversation).
I don’t think I’m totally alone in this. But here is what challenges me.
It’s that something I’d always believed, always done, always known to be right. Then: the contradictory comment, opposing viewpoint, the scoffed remark. Up come the defences to protect one’s ideas. There’s security in the belief system we create for ourselves – based on our experiences, our stories, what is learnt by both dictation and exploration. How uncomfortable it is to consider new truths and re-pattern neural pathways.
What is it that we fear? Momentary embarrassment? Inadequacy? Perceived lack of competency? Distrust in our abilities?
Vulnerability and receptivity are the seeds of opportunity to explore, develop, innovate and contribute.
Of course, there’s value in upholding one’s reputation – the perception of confidence and proficiency. But to the detriment of a malleable mindset? Where would that get us? We don’t have to know all the answers. That would take away the fun.
Let’s take it a leap further. Imagine a world where what you believe in is actually the opposite of what is. Just for fun, consider an opposing mindset. Does this strengthen your long-held beliefs, or expand your perspective?
What did you learn?
How does this look in the non-binary realm of yoga?
Wonder Yoga flow sequences are developed from a combination of self-practice, personal exploration, general research, and learnings from masterful teachers.
I consider sequence building to be like solving a problem – I start in the middle and work forward and back until there’s a seamless flow. I’m here, and I want to get there, so what would be the most intuitive and easeful way to transition. I then refine the sequences to suit the various levels I teach to and adapt them to my different teaching environments.
For participants learning a sequence for the first time, it can be like a game of Twister on a Saturday Night Fever Dance Floor. Oh, the worries of ending up off the mat, facing the back of the room, lefts/rights/hands/feet/toes/nose!
In this situation, “wrongness” seems amplified. But by what metric do you measure your wrongness… How it looks? How it feels?
What if I was to propose to you that there is no right or wrong? Could it be ok to leave your mat, only to return in the next transition… Could you face away and be lead by vocal coaching…
It’s fascinating to observe the intuitive body grappling with the analytical mind.
I can totally relate – I’ve always picked things up quite slowly, particularly in dance classes or learning aerial circus, and I’m slow to remember a sequence until I really get it into my body.
If it’s all gobbledygook to you, take a moment to internalise and consider how you could navigate your way to the next transition. Forget the left-hand-right-knee-toes-up-tongue-out and just play with it.
I’ve retired my latest sequence for a little while so I documented it on video. I was thinking about this one transition, where we come from a standing split to a seated position. There’s freedom here to find your own way to the floor – be it a heavy landing or a suspenseful counter-balance. Slo-mo captures the suspension felt in this movement.
Let’s consider this. If it feels right, you’re probably not wrong.