6 steps to owning the day

A handstand is a stunt and a feat of strength, a departure from convention with novelty value and a trace of outrageousness. It requires panache and flexibility in equal measure. There’s an element of bravery in it. And because bravery is required there’s a high probability you’ll get butterflies when attempting one because it might not work and you could feel like an idiot either way. If you let yourself, you will. But if you cast aside distractions and focus on the moment — the act — you may find turning your day upside down a far-better-than-average idea.

Here we go. In the spirit of nothing ventured, nothing gained:

You’re going to make this happen. But you can’t just handstand anywhere — or at least you shouldn’t. You’ll want space, relatively level ground, and an area where if the operation goes awry, you’ll still be alright. Meaning unless you’re a literal advocate of the school of hard knocks, steer clear of parking lots, quarries, and pedestals. Think beaches and grassy parks. Now get in the zone. Don’t wimp out.

Position your hands slightly wider than your shoulders, with heel, palm, and fingers securely on terra firma. This is your solid foundation and it’s essential. Yes, you’ll get your paws dirty. You might even have to pick pebbles from your fingernails. Deal with it.

It’s time to deliver the goods. Some upper body muscle is required, but success centers more on balance + pace than brute force. The lift is therefore a deliberate roll onto the shoulders — quick enough to shift your weight, but not so fast as to topple forward in a somersault. And not so slow as to lack essential upward velocity. If you need to rock back and forth until this rolling sensation becomes familiar, do it. There’s glory in the effort; not a medal for nailing it the first time. Stay committed. It’ll happen.

Breathe. Point your toes upward while bringing your heels as close together as possible. You’ve made it this far…keep going. Did I mention you need to breathe? Good. You won’t achieve perfect perpendicular on each attempt (see above), but you must try.

Keep your ankles stacked atop your knees, your hips, your shoulders, your hands. Cast your gaze from the ground in front of you to the inverted world behind. Even if you lose your balance, the odds of falling on your head are slim (you’re much more likely to roll onto a shoulder). But we’re not thinking about that. Now hold, maintain. Stay in the moment. And don’t forget to smile.

The dismount can be more nerve-wracking and fear-inducing than liftoff because it feels less controlled. It is. But the good news is that’s OK provided you followed my opening suggestion. Hard surface: hard landing; soft surface: soft landing. Best case you return comfortably to your feet. Not best case, you crash onto your side in a heap, confirming Newton’s First Law. Whether graceful or not (and barring serious injury), I’ve found dismounts have little effect on the satisfaction of the participant or the impressions of passers-by. You accomplished what you set out to do. Now go own what’s next.

The handstand is an obvious analogy for experiencing the world through a different lens. But it’s not about appearing different. We see enough of that. It’s about being different — bridging the gap between thinking and doing, between talking about the thing and having the spontaneity (some might also say fortitude) to carry it out.

Like challenges of any size, there are no guarantees: you may find success, you may not. That’s part of the deal. The only real question is if you’re willing to risk a fall. Once you know, all that’s left is the doing.

Good luck.

• Disclaimer: As with any other physical activity, consult your doctor and consider your capabilities before attempting the above.

• And one more note: For truly exceptional, fully straight handstands, my wife Alison is unbeatable. Must be the yoga.