The First Diaries: That Time I Tried Aerial Yoga

Introducing The First Diaries, a weekly column in which one Coloradan documents her misadventures, trials, and triumphs in the outdoors as she tries a new activity or adventure each week. With humor, practical advice, and some serious real talk, our goal is to make the outdoor space a little less intimidating and a little more fun for all of us.

I get by with a little help from … anywhere I can get it, really. And let me tell you, at my first aerial yoga class, I needed a hand. Today I’d like to talk about two things: asking for help and acknowledging—without giving into—the parts of yourself that could hold you back.

First of all, let me clarify:  when you read “aerial yoga,” you might be picturing those tall panels of red fabric with aerial artists a-twirl in them at a potentially life-threatening distance from the ground. That’s not what I tried (this time). Rather, an aerial practice takes place only a foot or two above your yoga mat. It utilizes an abundantly wide loop of silk bunched into a thick ribbon. Your silk becomes a prop to get into and/or hold stretches, balancing poses, and upside down poses, which are called inversions.

I’m actually a dedicated practitioner and part-time teacher of vinyasa yoga, so aspects of the practice were very much in my comfort zone. I came to silks out of curiosity—Will I discover a new depth of upper body strength I didn’t know I had? Contort into an incredibly opening stretch I never knew was possible? And, honestly, I couldn’t wait to get upside down.

Per my expectation, the class  was relaxing rather than heart rate-raising—until it wasn’t. We moved through a gentle progression of balances, stretches, and core work, and then it was time for the grand finally: hanging, head to the ground, with feet twisted gracefully into a clever knot above the body.

The teacher demonstrated how to wedge into the the base of the loop, cloth intersecting the hip bones in a safety hold, legs splayed open. Then she just flopped forward. I repeat: She let herself fall face-first, only to be caught, at the last second, head dangling just above the ground in a sublimely spine-releasing inversion, grinning ear-to-ear.

Try as I might, the rational part of my mind just wasn’t winning over the primordial, stay-alive impulse deep in my gut that would not allow me to face plant, even in the safety hold.

“Now it’s your turn,” she said.

Hmm, is it, though?

Try as I might, the rational part of my mind just wasn’t winning over the primordial, stay-alive impulse deep in my gut that would not allow me to face plant, even in the safety hold. It occured to me that I might be able  to trick my fear … but it would involve beating some social fear, too. I didn’t want to call attention to myself, but I wanted to get into that inversion more. So, I swallowed my pride and raised a hand.

“Will you spot me? I’m scared!” I laughed at myself. Somehow, that chuckle took the edge off my insecurity. It was like a nod to my bruised ego, like I was saying to it, I see you, but it’s just not your turn right now. With the teacher’s help, I hoped to say the same thing to the part of myself that was afraid.

For the teacher, of course, me asking for a hand was no big deal. Her knowing smile suggested I’m far from the first or last to request a spot in his or her first inversion.

She came over and stood a few feet from me, arms outstretched, knowing full well that in that tried-and-true hold she had demonstrated, there was no way she’d actually need to catch me. But for reasons that continue to elude me, with her standing there, my rational brain was able to win over my fear. I felt safe.

Let me tell you, bouncing around spread eagle in a giant cloth is probably the closest feeling to being one-year old again, bobbing around in a baby-holder in your mom’s kitchen, that you’re likely to experience as an adult. Pure, infantile joy.

The bliss of that last inversion was miles more enjoyable than any headstand I could have imagined. Before checking in with myself and asking for help, I had no idea that that would be the reward. So, I guess my takeaway from my first aerial yoga class is to look inward when you hit a wall, with a problem-solver’s mentality. Put emotion aside so you can work toward your goal without getting in your own way. You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.