Learning to Live with a Little Fear

What is it about getting things right that matters?  I mean really--I work with many competent people who I give permission (mentally or actually) to mess up or not know on a daily basis--but sometimes I fear doing those things myself.  Some people might not see that as problematic and could rationalize that as my having high standards for myself.  The trap in this way of thinking though, is that the fear of messing up can get in the way of my trying new things or make me regret rather than appreciate going through an inevitable learning curve. 

This lines up with something I read recently about risk taking and failure as the only real way to get better at something.  The writer was citing research findings from Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert whose work shows that we fear failure will hurt more than it does. Gilbert found not only that, but also that when we don't act because of that fear, the things we never did become the territory for regret.  Essentially, Gilbert's findings are that we should experience, experiment and fail rather than play it safe and "get it right." 

I can see that I have gravitated over time toward things I like, things that align with my strengths, and thus things I am good at.  There's nothing wrong with that on one level.  Honestly, it's a bit of a relief not to be trying to do it all--like the equivalent of taking flute lessons and learning to speak Spanish and going to soccer camp all at once when you were a little kid.  As I found hobbies I loved or academic subjects I preferred to study, though, and I went further and further in those directions, I moved farther away from what I didn't know or what pushed me outside my comfort zone.  I have gone in the direction of things I am good at--and this has led me farther and farther into comfort and away from risk.

As I experience less risk, I then become less comfortable with the fear.  For example, I have been working on several arm balances in my yoga practice.  If you ask me in the abstract what would be so bad about falling out of headstand or crow, I would say I might get a bump or bruise, or honestly worse that that, it might be embarrassing.  If you ask me if that is a big enough concern to stop me, I would say no.  Put me in a room full of other people doing yoga though and every time I go into headstand, I hit a moment of hesitation-- an instant of fear.  I typically push through it but it's amazing that it hasn't gone away!  The lesson I am finding there is about the importance of experiencing risk so that I have a tolerance for it--because I am beginning to see that the fear doesn't really go away as much as I get used to it, appreciate it, and need to remind myself that whatever I'm afraid of is not going to be that bad.










 

A Gift of Time and Space

One of the greatest gifts of being a teacher is a snow day--and not just because I get to sleep late.  I love the gift of time and space that a snow day brings. 

Instead of seeing the inconvenience of needing to get groceries in the crowds and then being trapped at my house, I appreciate the open space the storm creates.  In a storm, especially one predicted to be as nasty as the one currently blanketing much of New England, I can't run around and try to do too much--which might be my natural tendency on any other day when I am not at work.  It would be too physically dangerous in the midst of a blizzard.

As I sit here on my sofa, having crossed a few tasks off each to-do list I have, but also having watched a show that has been sitting on my DVR and having stared out the window a bit and having talked to my mom, and having given the dog a good scratch--none of which I would have planned to do if I had known I was going to have all these hours of time I didn't expect to have--I am appreciating the sense of space I suddenly feel. Why is it so hard to find this without the storm?  Why do I have to be surprised into keeping time free?

Here's what usually gets in my way: I find it so easy to get caught up in all the things I want to get done--or need to get done--and I plan (or overplan) any "open" space until it's no longer space.  When I have time "free" on the weekend--I plan brunch with friends, I schedule a hair cut, I go food shopping.  That is not the kind of free time I need more of.  What I want is time when I don't have a plan or the pressure to move through any checklist.  I want the freedom to decide what to do based on what I want to do right now--not on the plan.  Yesterday afternoon, I came home from work knowing school was cancelled today.  I ditched my plan to go run at the gym--because I knew I could fit it in today if I needed to.  I came home and cooked.  I just felt like hunkering down and doing some baking--so I did. 

There is something freeing about this gift of time--I can't waste it because I didn't have anything planned.  Even if I sat down and stared into space for a few hours, that's not a waste of this time I didn't think I would ever have. All of this has me thinking about how much pressure it creates to plan every spare minute or even to keep a running list of things to do if I get a spare minute.  Sometimes it pays to ditch the to-do lists and just do what I want, right now.  Thank you mother nature for this reminder.