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"INTELLIGENT
RISK"
— by Connie Habash
A
couple months ago, I had
been going through a period
of time in which I was experiencing
a lot of fear. Not big huge
fears, like of dying or
losing a job, but it was
all those little worries
that were getting to me.
Will that person cut me
off and we'll get in an
accident? What if I'm a
few minutes late to that
class? How will I juggle
everything that I need to
get done this week? Oh no,
I've left the clothes in
the washer—did they
mildew overnight? What if
someone stole them out of
the washer?
Little worries and anxieties,
and I hadn't even been conscious
of them, until one afternoon
when I decided to work on
Handstand. And there arose
that fear of my arms buckling
and falling. I sat down
on the floor and cried,
realizing how tired I was
of being afraid. It was
wearing me out and beating
me up, and I just wanted
it to stop.
I had rationalizations for
each fear, yet what good
were they doing me? Did
they really help the situations
I was afraid of? Or did
they simply drain energy
out of me for very little
reason? I decided on the
latter, and that it was
time to do something about
it.
We all come up against situations
in life that bring up fear,
anxiety, or worry. They're
usually situations that
involve some sort of risk,
whether great or small.
We may not even realize
how much we're affected
by these minute anxieties.
It can involve simple decision-making:
should I cook this for dinner?
Well, I've never cooked
it before. What if it turns
out bad? What will my husband/partner/date
think if it tastes terrible?
We may start imagining the
worst, and then the body
gets tense, the stomach
churns a bit, and we decide
to go with a familiar and
safe recipe.
Of course, we encounter
this on the yoga mat. Should
I try Headstand in the middle
of the room, and risk falling?
Maybe I'll just go over
to the wall again, even
though I don't really use
it. Should I attempt that
arm balance? What if I topple
over and land on my nose?
Maybe I'll just practice
squatting instead. These
choices may be very appropriate,
depending on our level of
experience. At a certain
point, however, we know
we're ready for the next
step, and something in us
just refuses to budge. Clinging
onto what's safe, we don't
venture outside of our self-imposed
perimeters.
Moving beyond those perimeters
involves Intelligent Risk.
We've all seen reckless
risk—forgetting to
“look before we leap.”
Getting involved in a financial
investment that's kind of
quirky, and not bothering
to look into the facts.
Diving headfirst into a
relationship without taking
enough time to get to know
the person. I've seen yoga
students do this with poses
from time to time—a
sort of panicky rush to
get into the pose, hoping
it will somehow happen,
without having the appropriate
knowledge of how to approach
it.
When we participate in reckless
risk, we're actually still
in reaction to the fear,
and letting it get the best
of us. We don't want to
look at the fear, or consider
how to deal with the risks,
so we ignore them and leap.
Unfortunately, this kind
of risk-taking is often
what ends us up in the very
situations we wanted to
avoid in the first place.
Intelligent risk involves
a mindful, conscious practice
of particular qualities
and skills. It is a willingness
to step into unfamiliar
territory, based on having
some relevant knowledge,
wisdom, and experience from
which to draw upon in the
new situation. It also requires
faith, courage, and letting
go. Patanjali's Yoga Sutras
spells out these keys to
transcendence—moving
beyond our self-imposed
limitations and perceptions
(including fears) - clearly:
Sraddha Virya Smrti Samadhi
Prajnapurvaka Itaresham.
Faith, Courage, Memory,
and discernment (wisdom)
can lead us to the state
of transcendence.
Would you go backpacking
in the wild without a map?
Probably not —if you
wanted to find your way
back! But, we can venture
into unknown territory —the
places that may scare us
a bit—if we have a
map, or a general sense
of what to expect. It would
also be a good idea to have
the appropriate skills.
Some experience with hiking,
camping, and first aid would
be likely prerequisites
for taking a backpacking
trip. Without those, we
could be setting ourselves
up for an unpleasant experience,
maybe even danger.
So when we're approaching
something new and that brings
up fear, whether it's a
yoga pose or interviewing
for a job, it's good to
be prepared. Being able
to do downward facing dog,
having good strength in
the arms, and flexibility
in the armpits and shoulders
would be helpful preparation
for Handstand. This lays
a strong foundation—having
skills and knowledge to
deal with the situation
at hand.
Then we need wisdom—the
appropriate application
of that knowledge. What
are the actions needed to
kick up into Handstand?
And how do I approach something
that brings up fear? It's
usually best to approach
slowly, with awareness.
If we're approaching a dog
that's unfamiliar to us,
we want to be slow, and
also watchful of the dog's
reactions. If we move to
fast, or aren't attentive,
what may seem like friendly
behavior at first may turn
into a nip on the hand.
Our fears are like that;
if we're not working mindfully
with them, they can snap
at us a bit. When we're
not being conscious, breathing,
and using our discrimination,
they can easily get the
best of us.
When we've laid the foundation
of knowledge, wisdom, and
experience, then we move
more into the more subtle
practices of courage, faith,
and letting go. We all know
that it takes courage to
approach our fears and challenges
in life. It's been said
that courage is not the
state of being unafraid,
but the willingness to proceed
with what needs to be done
in spite of the trepidation.
If we wait until that magic
day when the fear finally
goes away in order to make
the changes we want in life,
we may be waiting all our
lives. Courage is our inner
strength. The strength to
persist, even when we'd
rather not.
Faith adds fuel to that
inner strength of courage.
It is trusting that something
is taking care of us, and
therefore motivating us
to persevere. Something
greater than us will provide
what we need beyond the
knowledge and skills we
already have. In a yoga
class, that might be faith
in the teacher to help guide
the students in their learning
process, or that we've overcome
other difficult poses before,
we can do it this time,
too.
In life, faith may involve
trusting that the Divine
is taking care of our needs,
and in some way looking
after our well-being. It
also calls on us to trust
that when things are tough,
there's going to be a light
at the end of the tunnel,
and often a lot of wisdom
gained in the journey to
get there. Faith isn't something
that just happens—
it's an active, intentional
practice, just like getting
on the mat and working on
our downward dog pose. It
doesn't just appear—we
cultivate, explore, and
practice faith until it
becomes strong and solid
within us.
Finally, letting go—surrender
and nonattachment—are
needed in the process of
dealing with what feels
risky, new, or scary. Doing
our best is all that's required.
Whether or not the meal
we cook turns out the way
we want, or we kick up successfully
in Handstand, we're open
to outcome.
Making a breakthrough requires
that we let go of control.
In “The Four-Fold
Way,” Angeles Arrien
asserts that “an individual
who has difficulty with
surprises or the unexpected
has attachments, fixed perspectives,
and strong need for control.”
It's interesting to note
that controlling behavior
actually reinforces the
fears that it attempts to
keep at bay. When we let
go, release that control,
become open to outcome,
and surrender to the process,
things actually become possible.
It no longer matters whether
you end up actually doing
the pose, or taking off
on a wild adventure, or
not. It's the process of
exploring it that becomes
enriching and freeing. The
willingness to step out
into the wilderness is the
reward in itself.
When we bring these components
together—knowledge
and experience, wisdom,
faith, courage, and letting
go—we are able to
take intelligent risks.
Life is a risk. We're all
going to die someday, and
there are many things in
life that aren't safe. Yet
those things are among the
most precious and significant
aspects of life: giving
birth, being willing to
love someone, traveling
to a foreign country, speaking
up for what you feel is
right. Willingness to take
risks, from a place that
is grounded in our higher
intelligence and our trust
in the Divine, enriches
our lives.
After my good cry, I positioned
myself at the wall and,
in spite of my anxious mind,
was determined to kick up.
There I was in Handstand,
always available to me if
I had just let go and trusted.
I didn't have an experience
of transcendence, but I
did have a moment of peace
and clarity. In the moment
of taking that leap, with
eyes open and clear, I was
able to experience my own
aliveness. That's a risk
worth taking.
Copyright
2002 by Constance L. Habash