I used to go to this workout class at my mom’s gym. Three times a week, from 5:00 – 6:00 AM, I got my butt handed to me on a platter in the best possible way.
One of the stations was the exercise/stability ball. The purpose was to work on balance by sitting or kneeling on the ball for as long as the interval allowed. One morning, I saw this guy go from kneeling to standing on the ball. Being the competitive gal that I am, I thought, “I have to learn how to do that.” So when my turn rolled around, I decided to try. I mean, how hard could it be, right? HA! I couldn’t even comprehend how to maneuver my body anywhere near a standing position. And that guy made it look so easy!
Over the next couple months, every time I went to the class, I continued my standing pursuit. Ever so slowly, I got closer. Closer. Closer. Until for the first time, I took my hands off the ball and actually crouched into a very wobbly standing/squatting position and straightened my legs.
The instructor, who’d been watching me attempt this for the past several weeks, slapped me a high five. This wasn’t smart. It interrupted my concentration and I fell. Nevertheless, I kept trying. Now I can stand on the ball, no problem. I got so comfortable up there that the instructor would toss me a light weight medicine ball as I stood on my rounded perch. Either that, or I’d do squats.
What once felt impossible – absolutely, utterly impossible – somehow became totally doable. Easy, even. Second nature. To the point that I almost forgot it was hard in the first place. After class, somebody would come up to me and say, “How in the heck do you stand on that thing?” I’d say, “I practiced. A lot.” And then the next day, I’d see that person wobbling on the ball, trying to stand too.
Isn’t this such a good analogy for life? Ever hear a talented pianist play something fancy, like Rachmaninov’s Concertos? Or watched Shaun White snowboard? Or admired a painting in an art museum? Do you think the pianist woke up as a young child and started playing Chopin with ease? Or Shaun White hopped on a snowboard one day and started doing 360s off the half pipe? Or the painter picked up a brush for the first time and painted the next Monet?
Of course not. We all start off wobbly. The pianist started with chopsticks. Shaun White caught his edges and fell on his face. The painter had to learn how to hold a brush before he could weild it with any finesse. Often times, I see somebody doing something difficult and disregard all the hard work it took to get there. They make it look so easy. Like Bob Ross and his happy little trees.
The truth is, if we want to learn something, or be good at something, we have to practice. We have to give it time. There’s no getting around it. Sure, some might possess a natural gift, an inclination toward a certain talent, but we still start raw. If we want to hone that talent and make it blossom, then practice we must. Wobble, we must. Fall, we must.
If I’d been afraid of getting hurt, afraid of making a fool of myself, I never would have stood on that ball.
Same goes for writing. I mess up every day. I read a book by somebody like Mary DeMuth or Christa Parrish (the list goes on) and I think….How in the heck did she do that? Then I remind myself that the answer isn’t magic. They practiced. They learned. They took the time to hone their craft. They wobbled. They fell. They got back up and kept trying. When you’re in the midst of the wobbling-stage, it’s a good thing to keep in mind.
Question to Ponder: What ball are you trying to stand on these days?removetweetmeme
