Getting Over Yourself: 4 Joys of Being Imperfect
On a whim, I decided to do something crazy.
It was something that I would never have considered even 10 years ago. Twenty or 30 years ago, it would have been one of my worst nightmares -- like showing up at school with no pants on.
I am not a "whim" person or a "crazy" person. I am a level-headed, decisive goal-oriented person. I like to know where I'm going. I also like to do things well. I prize competence -- maybe even mastery. That's a lie. I don't prize competence, I cling to it. Being a novice has always been extremely uncomfortable for me. Mistakes swept quickly under the rug, I buckle down, work hard and move as quickly as I can out of the messy white-belt area to rise in the ranks.
Until recently, I've been very comfortable in my attachment to these descriptors: decisive, solid, dependable, responsible, confident and competent. So much so that those tendencies have adhered to my identity.
So doing something on a whim, throwing caution to the wind, was nothing short of terrifying.
But this new experience was calling me, nudging me to step out of my comfort zone. And I've learned to listen to that quiet voice inside me that says, Go this way.
So I signed up for an improv class. (I keep wanting to add an 'e' to the end of that word -- because improving myself was the promise hidden in the unfinished looking word.)
I was terrified. The prospect was tantamount to my first sky-diving experience (something I actually have no desire to ever do).
I walked into the small room at my local improv theater, worried that I'd be late. With two minutes to spare, I made it. As the rest of the participants rushed into the room, I saw that each of us was scared in our own way. Some blustered in, with big improv-y gestures. Some slinked in, head down. Some apologized for being late, as they quickly found a chair against the white wall. I soon realized we were all in this together -- whatever this was.
We did a warm up, shaking a leg, then the other; an arm then the other while shouting numbers. The theme of the day was "Go Big. Look Stupid." With that as our backdrop, we moved into little sketches -- on stage, in front of the rest of the class. The teacher instructed us to be present to the other person with whom we were on stage.
I can do that, I thought. I can be present. By committing to being present, the Little Dictator of Perfectionism slinked off into the corner of the room. I'm sure he joined the other little dictators there. Here's what I learned:
When you are present, fears of looking stupid drop away.
When you are present, time flies.
When you are present in your own body, you are fully available to what's possible.
Presence and awareness are the fertile ground for discovery, delight and joy.
Perfectionism cannot co-exist with creativity. Spontaneity disempowers the little dictator. Life is growth. By nature it’s unpredictable. I don't know about you, but I plan on growing as long as I am living. Improv is to improve. With the goal of looking stupid yesterday, I think I may have shed some of my perfectionism. What freedom! Life, after all, is one big improv class. I am beginning to discover the joy of getting over myself.