“Fall seven times. Stand up eight.” ~ Japanese Proverb

I have a dislocated finger, pulled hamstring, numb left toes, and a bum knee. Finger due to racing down a mountain. Hamstring doing circuit training. Knee from forcing myself into lotus position. And the toes, well… investigating that with my doctor. Evidently my body has limitations and battle scars. I have put it through a lot.

I blame runner’s high for the dislocated finger. I was coming to the end of a trail race and feeling invincible. I was even plotting to run my first ultra trail marathon. Suddenly while sprinting down the mountain I tripped on a rock and crashed in the bushes. I got up and brushed myself off, feeling thankful my teeth were in tact! Then I looked down and noticed my finger bent in half.

Isn’t that the way life can unfold? One minute we’re flying high and the next minute we face plant. The injury can feel irreparable.

My finger never lets me forget. I move into crow pose and feel the strain of balancing with a broken finger. I drop my phone after losing grip with the finger. I see the bulging angle when washing my hands. These events at times frustrated me, but now they remind me of the inherent risk in living fully and why the heck it’s worth it.  The finger symbolizes saying “yes” to opportunities, even the scary ones, and revealing myself nonetheless.

I know there are risks. The uncomfortable feelings of vulnerability, confusion, self-doubt. I know they allow space for grace, intimacy, and connection. Living vibrantly doesn’t mean you get to pick and choose, it’s a package deal. The finger reminds me that for better or worse, I don’t hold back with what I love, despite the potential loss.

Anything we give our heart to – relationships, our craft, our philosophy – brings us to our fears and to our livelihood.  It can be a beautiful cycle, really. We climb the mountain of our passion, at times weary of the rocks and switchbacks along the way. Perhaps we do take a spill, feeling bruised. Yet we can eventually feel balance again, even feel a renewed sense of empowerment in knowing we survived. One day you may soar down a mountain once more, this time with greater wisdom.

Whether it be a relationship or a finger, it’s painful to bend in half, to feel fractured. There is the phrase “falling in love” but I prefer the notion of “face planting in love.” Whatever your passion or pursuit, I hope you face plant. I hope it’s a real digger. I hope it leaves a scar – like a bent finger – that’s visible and reminds you of your strength and following your heart. Because this is living and learning fully.  Invest, dive deep, become vulnerable, transcend.  Amidst all my regrets of falling, I realize there are no regrets.  Regret would have been not showing up in the first place.  As a yoga teacher my injuries help students with their own aches and pains.  As a psychotherapist my falls allow me perspective and awareness, enabling greater empathy and compassion.

My ultimate advice to you: do not fall into your life, rather, face plant. This will be your biggest teacher. This will bring you compassion for your mistakes, and for others. Whether you dive deep into your love for another person, your craft, your philosophy, your truth….go into it with gusto, despite the risks.

“In order to not leave any traces, when you do something, you should do it with your whole body and mind; you should be concentrated on what you do. You should do it completely, like a good bonfire. You should not be a smoky fire.
You should burn yourself completely. If you do not burn yourself completely a trace of yourself will be left in what you do.You will have something remaining which is not completely burned out. Zen activity is activity which is completely burned out, with nothing remaining but ashes.”

~ Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind Beginner’s Mind