We had quite a learning curve, my fifth grade class and I, in all the practices leading up to now. But that’s what practice is for – to learn the material, work out the kinks and fix the mistakes so that the performance is…..flawless.
I’ve not changed much from that young girl anxiously waiting to deliver her lines in the school play about P.T. Barnum. I seem to think that all of life is a series of scenes requiring my perfect delivery of choices. I huddle behind the curtain paralyzed by fear of my own miss-steps. I lament my foibles, swiftly pointing them out to myself and delivering how disappointed I am in me.
I have very little patience for my own mistake making. There are no do-overs in life, which I take to mean I must never screw up. Life is not a dress rehearsal. I convince myself every decision seals the fate of the next 50 years of my life.
But does it?
Would I take that fifth grade girl and put her in front of a crowd on opening night without a script or practice of any kind and expect a command performance from her? So why am I so hard on myself, expecting that I can face the barrage of new and never before experienced scenes of my life without learning my way through them?
What if I looked at life as a grand dress rehearsal of sorts? Change my paradigm so that instead of performing life, I am practicing life – learning who I am and how to be myself as I navigate my way? I think I would have more freedom to learn from my experiences versus torture myself over them. I might welcome trying new things, even if I am terrible at them and fall on my face. I think I would find more fun. Be more fun. Laugh more. Maybe even at myself.
There were many things I read that have stirred this shift in how I see life. I saw myself or was encouraged by someone else’s writing. Take a look for yourself and see what stirs in you….