I want to fly. But I’m scared.

Scared to leave the ground. The safety and certainty of the earth supporting us beneath our feet. Every time I attempt a flip, my entire system rallies against the fear. I grasp at the ground for safety, as if landing faster would somehow make the entire ordeal more secure, less risky.

Nothing can be farther from the truth.

I learned that the hard way. Two years ago, in a bold and ignorantly optimistic attempt at an acrobatic move called a side-swipe, I hurdled myself aggressively sideways and upwards into the airlanding—exactly as the move calls for—on my takeoff leg…

…in an instant, my left knee joint separated on impact, bending my knee past 180 degrees before sending me crumpling in pain onto the ground..

Now, two years later, I finally find myself back at the gym, ready to get back on the proverbial horse.

I had been injured before, but this one left me humbled. It took a year of cold plunging, deep breathing, meditation, and physical therapy before I was able to really dance again. Then another year of strength training, conditioning, and measured patience before I allowed myself to step back into the gym.

I’m not naturally gifted in acrobatics by any means. In fact, I would consider myself the opposite. In spite of going at this since I was about 10 years old, my back handsprings are ugly and twisted. Throughout the years, I’ve dislocated my elbow, landed on my shin bones, pulled neck muscles, and more. Yet, in spite of the injuries, I don’t see myself ever wanting to stop pushing my edge as a layperson gymnast.. I want to persist, no matter how terrible I am.

I guess that’s true love.

The gym has become my literal and metaphorical dojo. Because it’s never just about the flip. You see, what my dojo of acrobatics has taught me is my patterns. Not just the ways my body seems to throw itself sideways when it should go straight, but it shows me my stubborn biases, my fears, and how my ego—persistently, in its attempts to keep me safe—brings me closer to injury and harm by running the show.

In Ayurveda, I am what is referred to as pitta, a fire type, through and through. I tend to force and muscle my way through things to get them done. I overachieve, over-effort, so that I can over-deliver. Unfortunately, with flips, that only gets you so far before you get injured. Analytical skill, grace, timing, awareness—it requires mastery in all of it.

And it requires acknowledging your insufficiencies.

Rather than saying, ‘I’ve done this so many times, it should be enough’ (which will cause you not only frustration, but will hold you back dramatically from progressing), you need to be able to say ‘let’s look back at how we’ve been doing it, and what needs to change.’

The problem is that fear often prevails.

Because no matter how brave you can make your conscious self believe you are, once you’re in the air, another part of you is going to say “oh shit, oh shit” and try to get you back to the safety of the earth. The reason my flips have - up until this point - been fast and low is because of fear.

But it’s not about getting rid of your fear. It’s about how you strategize facing it. It’s about how you train your awareness to expand to see more, feel more in your body, and build trust in your senses to guide you to how to maneuver. If you can’t expand your awareness, you’ll keep repeating the same dysfunction, over and over again, just like I have in the almost 30 years I’ve been at this.

And that’s what I’m refusing to practice anymore: dysfunction dressed up as determination.

So this year, I’m back in the dojo with a new humility. In Brené Brown’s latest book Strong Ground, one of the first statements she makes is that “we will not build on dysfunction.” Whether it’s in your body, in sports, the boardroom or otherwise, dysfunction breeds disease, bad habits, and poor resilience, leading to injuries, accidents, and preventable loss. This year, I’m going back to the basics. Tuning into the body, learning from experience, failure, and feedback. And moving with intention, one firm step at a time.

This time, I’m not chasing airtime. I’m building strong ground.

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