In keeping with the epiphanies Rob and I seem to be having with this new year, I’ve had yet another and this one has to do with my qigong practice. I wrote the other day about how I didn’t sink into the practice and just sort of gave up on it for the day. I tried again and pushed through the next day but the day after that the same thing happened. And, the truth is, even on the one day I finished it although I felt the energy (the chi) it never reached the full experience.
Today I chose not to give up nor push through. Instead, I allowed myself to feel the experience to see why I wasn’t sinking into the practice as I have before. It didn’t take long to feel the tension. It was in my feet because the vertigo was shifting my balance ever so slightly.
The tension in my feet was only the starting point, however, because as I kept adjusting for the vertigo, my legs and hips and lower back were also adjusting.

When I was finished I knew why my qigong practice felt so compromised. I talked to Rob about it and explained that I probably have to put the standing practice aside for now. I am going to listen through some of the cds I have to see which, if any, have seated qigong practices. (I have a dvd that has seated meditations and if necessary I will use that but I would prefer to use the cds that come along with the
qigong course I have.)
What will I do if the kit does not have a seated qigong practice?
I will begin doing Reiki to myself on a daily basis.
I will do yoga each morning and perhaps a second practice in the evening.
I will do the things I know that help me live more comfortably with the vertigo and . . . .
. . .avoid the things that exacerbate it, to the best of my ability.
All of this got me to thinking about the differences between reasons and excuses. I have a reason not to exercise—vertigo. There is a list of things I simply cannot do because they push me beyond my physical limits. The idea of a long hike through the woods is lovely. The thought that I might have a full episode halfway along the trail is not so lovely. Rock climbing and/or bouldering are no longer a possibility and although I’d hoped to someday learn how to enjoy inline skating, unless the vertigo goes away completely I doubt I’ll have the opportunity in this life.
And that’s okay. These are all things I cannot do *with good reason.*
However, there is a tendency to let a reason become an excuse. Because I can’t do so many things I have never tried and some things I love doesn’t mean I can’t do something. It is so easy to let reason slip into an excuse.
When the vertigo first hit, I was literally slammed into my bed and stuck. Imagine my delight when my mother sent me a book Yoga in Bed. When I grew stronger and more able to maintain my balance, I graduated from my bed to a chair and used a dvd Sitting Fit: Easy and Effective Chair Yoga.
Now, nearly two years later and able to walk without a walker, I still can’t do a full tree pose. Instead, my “raised” foot remains near my ankle, sometimes so low that my toes are touching the floor slightly. Sometimes I have a good day and surprise myself by being able to raise my foot closer to my knee. 
But two years ago when I couldn’t even stand without leaning on something, I didn’t avoid tree pose. Rather, I modified the pose. I created, although I’m sure I’m not the first to do this, the supine tree pose. In other words, instead of standing I lay on the ground and slowly moved into the pose just as though I were standing. Of course, I knew I was not reaping the full benefits of the pose because I did not have to work to maintain my balance. Still, as I lay there I visualized myself standing. Sometimes, I would even press my foot into the wall or a piece of furniture to add a physical stimuli reinforcing my visualization. I would feel myself standing on the floor and then slowly raise my one foot along my leg, draw my hands into prayer position, and breathe as I allowed myself to sink into the asana.
I have a reason why I can’t do tree pose. It is simply too easy for me to fall over and possibly hurt myself. But that reason cannot become an excuse.
I will continue to push my limits and hit many walls as I occasionally push myself too hard. This is the act of love I give to myself, a desire to not live within my limits but to expand them.
Maybe someday I’ll be standing in vrksasana and feel my raised foot move up to my thigh. I still hope and believe such things are possible. In the meantime, on a good day my foot will settle about halfway between my knee and my ankle and on a bad day you can find me lying on the floor somewhere.