The Yoga Pose I Can’t Do Right Now

I used to be able to do a headstand.

For years, going upside down was simply part of my yoga practice. It required strength, balance, focus, and a certain amount of courage—all things I loved about it.

But right now, I can't do one.

I've been dealing with neck and shoulder issues, and anything that puts significant pressure on my neck simply isn't a good idea. Maybe someday that will change. Maybe it won't.

And I've realized I'm okay with that.

That acceptance didn't happen overnight.

When our bodies stop allowing us to do something we once could, it's easy to see it as evidence that we're losing something. Especially as we get older.

I used to be able to do this.

I used to have more energy.

My body didn't used to hurt here.

There can be a surprising amount of grief wrapped up in those words: I used to.

When Yoga Becomes About Achievement

Yoga can be tricky this way.

Although yoga teaches us to be present and listen to our bodies, it's easy to turn the physical practice into another place where we measure ourselves.

Can I touch my toes?

Can I balance longer?

Can I still do the things I could do ten years ago?

But yoga was never about collecting poses.

One of yoga's foundational principles is ahimsa, often translated as nonviolence or non-harming. We often think about ahimsa in terms of how we treat other people, but it also applies to the relationship we have with ourselves.

Sometimes practicing ahimsa means backing off. Sometimes it means modifying. And sometimes it means accepting that a pose that once belonged in our practice no longer does.

For me, right now, that's headstand.

Acceptance Isn't the Same as Giving Up

This is where I've had to change my thinking. Choosing not to do headstand doesn't mean I've stopped challenging myself. Quite the opposite.

I still want to be strong. I want to maintain my balance, mobility, flexibility, and cardiovascular health. I want to keep challenging my body so that I can continue doing the things I love for as long as possible.

I just don't need the challenge to look the way it used to. Instead of focusing on the things my body can't do, I'm learning to ask:

What can I do?

There is so much.

I can build strength in ways that support my neck and shoulders rather than aggravate them. I can work on balance. I can walk. I can practice yoga poses that feel wonderful in my body. I can try new movements. I can challenge my endurance.

And perhaps most importantly, I can challenge my mind.

Because sometimes the harder practice isn't holding the pose. It's letting it go.

Our Bodies Are Supposed to Change

This lesson reaches far beyond my yoga mat.

As I've gotten older, I've had to navigate changes that came with menopause, changes in my body, and aches and pains I didn't have when I was younger.

My first instinct hasn't always been acceptance. Sometimes it's frustration. I want to fix it. Push harder. Get back to where I was.

But I'm beginning to question the idea that where I was should always be the goal.

Maybe the goal isn't to make my 59-year-old body perform like my 39-year-old body.

Maybe the goal is to understand what my body needs now and help it become as strong, capable, and healthy as it can be from here.

That's a very different relationship with ourselves.

Look for What's Still Possible

There is a balance here that I think becomes increasingly important as we age.

We don't want to stop challenging ourselves simply because something feels difficult. Our bodies need movement. Our muscles need resistance. Our balance needs practice. Our hearts and lungs need to work.

But challenge doesn't have to mean ignoring pain or forcing our bodies to perform the way they once did. We can adapt. We can continue to grow without constantly trying to go backward.

That's what my yoga practice is teaching me right now.

When everyone else goes into headstand, I stay on the ground.

And surprisingly, I don't feel like I'm missing out anymore.

I choose something else. Something my body can safely do. Something that challenges me in a different way.

Then I breathe.

Because perhaps one of the most advanced yoga practices has nothing to do with standing on your head.

Maybe it's learning to meet yourself exactly where you are—and discovering how much is still possible from there.