Have you ever had a moment that was so heart breakingly perfect that you don't think you'll ever be able to describe it or contain it... That maybe part of the pleasure in it is that small twinge of despair as you watch it float away like a bubble and pop upon a light breeze. Have you ever wondered if you would ever have another moment like it? A family evening on the deck on a warm May night. The perfect party dress and a smile, your two front teeth hadn't come in yet. A dance class: the imperfect perfection of new choreography, laughing, bouncing, and shaking it. A morning in bed with a new someone, giggling, lazy and lustfilled glances, and being told you are beautiful by fingers on your cheek and a slight, sad smile.
So many 'hell yes', 'yes', 'le sigh', or sweet smiling moments. All required a certain degree of ballsy-ness. Call it a back bone. Call it cojones. Call it your courage. You need to show up and you need to play. No medals for just being there and standing on the sidelines. I've never been good at falling. Both literally and metaphorically. I can count the number of times I have fallen off a bike. I can tell you the number of times I didn't show up or didn't engage because of a desperate fear of failing, sucking or not being good enough.
'The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be constantly fearing you will make one.' Elbert Hubbard
I am learning to fall now. No kidding; it's part of my martial arts training. I'm giving myself permission to screw up. To be a work in progress even when it isn't pretty. Moving messiness. Trying and trying again and trying something different. I'm giving myself permission to fall. Steps. Dance steps. Baby steps. Snow shoe tracks. Front kicks. Drum beats and all.
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