Learning How To Crawl
Do you ever feel like you’re in a hurry? Or that you need to be good at something, and that it should have already happened yesterday? I’m learning a lot these days about new things: trying to start a business, exploring uncharted aspects of my skills and abilities, figuring out what things I am simply not good at, and entering into that uncertain human space of shared intimacy. All of these things are uncomfortable, and I find myself wishing that I was already good at them. For example, I can make a really good curried chicken, sing a song, and play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on the cello. Surely I should be able to master everything else with equal speed and dexterity?
Even though we might know intellectually that good things don’t happen overnight, we still act as though they should, or that they even could. At the same time, newness can be a double-edged sword. It forces us to bend, and sometimes it makes us really vulnerable. When you have spent a long time thinking that you should be quite capable of having it all put together, as I have, vulnerability can be a difficult pill to swallow.
So what to do? Well, each and every time, begin again. And each time with a tiny bit more awareness than the last time, each time with infinite care and patience. Just as if you have never walked…still crawling on tender arms and legs, but never stopping because there is some undefined primordial knowledge inside of you that eventually you will stand up and walk.
Once upon a time I thought that I had the world at my feet. Now I’m being forced to explore it on my hands and knees. It’s taking a lot of getting used to, but guess what? I have finally realized that the view from down here can be pretty amazing also 🙂
“Think of the small as large and the few as many. Accomplish the great task by a series of small acts. The master never reaches for the great; thus he achieves greatness.” —Tao-te-ching, Lao Tzu