And more importantly how to get up again.
It’s natural when you’re a kid. You probably don’t remember learning to walk yourself, but odds are, you’ve seen a toddler in the act. The falling, the getting back up, the trying and trying and trying. The cheering and encouragement for every effort.
The falls may include tears or laughter, or no emotional at all.
They’re part of the process.
They don’t mean anything, in and of themselves.
But then something happens.
At some point, we learn that falling is capital B bad. That tears over failures mean something. That laughter might not be appropriate. That falling means failing, and the end of trying.
It’s easy to stop trying. To not put yourself in the position of possibly failing. Staying safe.
Getting back to the beginning.
It helps when I remember there’s no failure, only feedback. It’s not always easy to put in practice though. More often than I’d like, falling still feels like failing.
Every once in awhile, I experience what it’s like to fall and laugh and get back up again. The falling doesn’t mean anything. It’s simply part of the process. Part of trying things. And when you try things, you learn and have fun, and great things happen.
Remembering I want to keep falling.
I’ve had literal and metaphorical falls. And it’s easy to want to hide under the covers, stay safe, not put myself out there. But when I do that, I don’t get to experience the thrills of crossing the finish line, reaching the summit, trying something for the fun of trying and challenging myself.
A few weeks ago, when Portland was blanketed in an unusually heavy snow, I went sledding. Watching this video reminds of how I want to fall (get cheered on when I do) and get up again.