Your not cray cray - you just need to get down to get up!
“You need to get down to get up!” That’s what Sharon and David always said. At first, it sounds like just a catchy phrase, but like all good teachings, it reveals layers of truth the deeper we go. The wisdom of this simple statement echoes through our yoga practice, our relationships, and even the way we move through the world.
Think about it—whether it’s in urdhva dhanurasana, sirsasana, or tadasana, true stability comes from rooting down. It’s not just about the lift; it’s about the connection to what’s underneath. And isn’t that true in life as well? We want to rise, expand, evolve—but first, we have to do the work beneath the surface. We have to dig deep, to acknowledge what’s rotting, to compost what no longer serves us, and to plant seeds of compassion, forgiveness, and love.
Our teachers remind us to look beyond what’s convenient, beyond what society tells us is important. Instead of skimming the surface, we’re invited to go down to the roots—radically, generously, courageously. To see life not as a series of isolated moments but as an interconnected web of interdependence. Like mycelium beneath the forest floor, we are connected in ways we often don’t even realize.
Yoga teaches us reciprocity—receiving and giving back. Standing like a mountain is not just about balance in asana; it’s about showing up with presence, supporting others, and allowing ourselves to be supported. It’s easy to celebrate the moments when we hold the pose perfectly, but the real teachings are found in the falls—the wobbles, the tipping points, the times we land flat on our backs and have to decide whether to get back up.
And here’s the paradox: We grow the most when we stop trying to escape struggle and suffering. When we let ourselves feel the fire, when we allow discomfort to teach us, we transmute pain into empathy, victimhood into sovereignty, anger into forgiveness. This is the alchemy of yoga. This is how we move from scarcity to abundance, from fear to love. It begins with us, right here, in this moment.
Life is continuously becoming and unbecoming. Rivers into oceans, oceans into clouds, clouds into teacups. We exist in the pulsing rhythm of expansion and contraction. And in this dance of opposites—ida and pingala, sun and moon, stillness and motion—we come to see that the polarities don’t exist to divide us, but to deepen our understanding.
Polarity is not a flaw in the system; it is the system. We are creatures of ecstasy and agony, joy and grief, contraction and expansion. Just like no two blackberries from the same bush are exactly alike, no two humans are the same—and that’s where the magic is. Creativity, transformation, and evolution don’t come from sameness. They arise from contrast, from difference, from the sacred tension between opposing forces.
When life shakes us, when our minds are disturbed, what does Patanjali tell us to do? Contemplate the opposite. Not as an avoidance, but as an expansion of perspective. When fear grips us, can we remember love? When we feel limited, can we consider possibility? When we experience struggle, can we see the hidden gift? As Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us, “One speck of dust can be the Kingdom of God, the Pure Land.”
So, let’s not just stand there. Let’s root down. Let’s be willing to feel it all. Let’s hold ourselves and each other upright through the difficult times. Let’s take this practice off the mat and into our lives, because yoga isn’t about escaping reality—it’s about meeting it with an open heart, a steady mind, and a willingness to transform.
And remember: You need to get down to get up.
Mantra - vitarka-badhane pratipaksa-bhavanam
When the mind is disturbed, contemplate on the opposite.
Music - Crazy by Gnarls Barkley