Beautiful Readers,
I have been afraid to ice skate for over a decade. A totally irrational fear of falling on the hard cold ice, and maybe getting run over by someone in ice skates, has made me resist every invitation for years. It would not be enough to say that I just didn't like it (though that is certainly what I said whenever I was asked) but I was really afraid. Of course, my resourceful eight year old daughter somehow managed to get to the ice without me, fell in love with ice skating before I could thoroughly frighten her, and so, I was faced with a problem. Several skeptical friends have asked why I love having kids. And I think this is why. They make you do all kinds of things you don't want to do.
If you have seen this blog before, you may notice a difference in the title. For a long long time I was committed to starting each post with a collection of B words, like 'Beautiful Boys Bowling' hoping that it would amuse readers and help them remember that the name of our company was Beautiful Fitness (which, as you may notice, also starts with a 'B'. Gosh.)
But I've given that up because I was finding it too limiting. And without thinking much about it, I believe I may have made a kind of internal New Year's resolution this year. I will give up more easily on restrictions, rules, people, fears, and things, that require more effort than they offer reward. I have kept too many clothes that don't fit right, and stuck with too many plans that just didn't work.
A few things have conspired to put me in this state of mind. One, the recent move, while harrowing at first, has done the thing that any big move does--it shook things up. Bad in some ways, good in others, but we got through it and things are settling down differently both physically, and in my mind. And then, before our very eyes, the world became a slightly different place. The first African American president was sworn in, and on TV we all were able to watch a black man, who not 150 years ago would not have had the vote, give this inauguration speech. Don't ever again try to tell me that people can't change. Even if this ends in tragedy or failure, it happened at all, we know it is possible, and that is huge.
I'd also like to give some props for my new lighter state of mind to Seth Godin
self proclaimed author, entrepreneur and agent of change, author of The Dip
The Dip, among other things, talks about companies making it through that phase of life that can feel like being a snowboarder discovering that the run you are on leads to a long, extra flat, stretch of catwalk where you sit on you butt for a bit thinking about whether or not to unstrap your board and take a walk to the bottom of your snowy hill. I think that's the kind of dip Mr. Godin was referring to.
But at that moment (or if you are very clever, perhaps before you hit the really big dip) you make a choice, you take action, and refuse to be paralyzed by a fear of failure. In fact, Seth Godin suggests that you could transcend a feeling that quitting, in a situation like the one I described, constitutes failure at all. In fact, sometimes quitting is just the right thing to do. It can lead to all kinds of nice things like, better runs next time, tasty hot chocolate at the bottom, not ending up tumbling down the hill instead of merely walking down the hill, or spending that precious time that would be spent in agony, doing something you benefit from more-like taking a lesson maybe, so that next time you can manage the cat walk better.
Anyway, my daughter had an ice skating party recently. I planned it and hosted it, and because there were so many unsteady eight year olds to shepherd around on the ice I gave up my fear of skating. Just like that. No bravado. No whining. Just did it, like they say in the advertisements. And then last weekend I went skating again, and then tonight I took my daughter to her school ice skating party. I'm actually a pretty good skater. But more importantly it reminded me again of what freedom from fear really feels like and how easily attained it can be-how sometimes it's just a question of letting go.
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