My Year of Doing Things Badly

Welcome to 2020, and My Year of Doing Things Badly. I have decided after spending far too much of my life fearing failure, that I’m going to jump wholeheartedly into trying new things, often failing miserably, and loving every minute of it.

To kick off the year, Santa delivered a lovely old upright piano, and I’m trying to reteach myself piano after 30+ years away from the ivories.  So far, I’m playing murderously sloppy versions of Für Elise and Gymnopédie No. 1. I also started playing racquetball with my husband. I’m truly horrible at it – the ball ricochets all over and bounces way too many times on the floor, I often swing and miss by a mile, and my forearm is killing me. But I can’t wait to do more.

Who knows what else lies ahead? Maybe I’ll take up cheese-making. Or martial arts. Calligraphy? Knitting?  Maybe I’ll try to learn Arabic again. My friends have advised me that failing miserably at skiing can break bones, but I’m still tempted to finally learn how to ski someday. There are so many possibilities, and I’m looking forward to being ridiculously bad at all of it because, well, we all have to start somewhere.

I have belly danced for about 25 years now.  While there are always new things to learn, and I can hardly say that I’ve mastered it, belly dance is definitely my comfort zone.  I gravitate to belly dance mostly because I love it, but I’ve realized lately that it might also make me feel safe, and that sense of safety sometimes prevents me from taking risks to learn new skills.  So, this year, I’m going to take more risks and give myself the freedom to make mistakes. Lots of them.

It’s refreshing to feel like a beginner again. Bravo to those of you in my classes, whether you’re just starting out or have been studying belly dance for a few years now. Jumping into something new and approaching the learning process with an open mind takes true courage. Sticking with it even when it’s challenging or frustrating takes strength.  Thank you for letting me be part of your journey. Let’s grow and create big, gorgeous lives worthy of the universe we have been dropped into. 

I leave you with a poem that I wrote in 1999 that seems fitting. My own words, providing an encouraging nudge from the past… 

Yellow Flower

I saw a little yellow flower today

Blooming mightily

Winking haughtily

At the brittle bone clouds

Of a January Sunday

I couldn’t help but to be jealous

This little yellow flower

Was at once

All fire and ringlets

Riding naked and voluptuous

On the velvet of a horse’s back

And simultaneously a lined old woman

Shuffling in sandals up rocky cliffs

Bringing coal to the mountain gods

But I

Lazily rambling on a gravel path

Heaving up steps made with the sweat of the sunburned

I am not swimming in uncharted waters

Leaping without looking

Guiding masses to something brighter

My face is shyly dipped 

Into the cold comfort of my breast

Sometimes

I would like to emerge from this clay, rise up, raise a beckoning hand

Shout my heart’s whispers, even be a fool

Sometimes

I would like to glow yellow on a hillside of branches that lie bare