I love NYC. I mean – in a “I don’t know if you should love a place this much” kind of way.
The sights, the sounds, even the smells. Yes.Even on trash collection day. it might be a problem.
While other folks might mediate to relaxing sound of ocean waves or birds chirping – I want horns honking, drivers yelling and sirens. No, I do not understand why – it simply IS. And yes, I love the ocean and the meadow and a blanket of bluebonnets and picnics and all of that too – I just adore the city.
So, my darling hubby takes me there as often as we can get away. We especially love it in the winter – or at least I especially love it in the winter. We usually go with minimal plans. We wander the streets. We pop into our fav restaurants. We people watch. We nap with the windows open. We sit in Bryant Park and sip the worlds best hot chocolate topped with house-made marshmallows. We scour the local papers for deals on shows and if we find something we go – a concert, a local band, sometimes Broadway, or our real love – off Broadway. The “off-er” the better.
This last time we found this fascinating show based on a true story that took place in a mental institution in the 1960’s. There were tickets available, reviews were good and it was a subway ride away – the trifecta! Score!
We arrived, filed in and someone had to use the restroom before the show. I’m not naming names but – hey – this time it wasn’t me!
This was a rather typical old New York city building that went up and down – multiple floors rather than acreage like we have in the south. So with sketchy directions we began descending to the basement. In short order, and with only a few mis-steps, we found the right area, took care of business and begin the long climb back up the steps – but it began to look slightly different. We were, after all, going UP this time rather than down, so I mentally chalked it up to that and kept climbing. Twisting and turning and maneuvering down tiny hallways.
We met a person in a janitor type uniform. I asked where the show was – he pointed in a general direction and we took off.I was hurrying now because it was time to start, and nothing is ruder that walking into a theater late… I thought…
I finally found the door, threw it open (but quietly of course) and stepped out on to the floor and immediately noticed it was a hard wood floor. The kind you use on stages, not typical in seating areas. Then I noticed there was no seating. And the lights were bright. And pointed at me. And so were peoples faces. They were looking toward me… AT me…
Somehow, with no one stopping us, we had walked right out on to the stage of the play and were standing there – mouth open while the entire audience waited for us to say something entertaining… assuming, naturally, we were part of the play.
Ahhhh, if only I had been quicker on my feet and burst into song or tap danced or told a joke or at least giggled. But alas, I did the whole “deer in the headlight” thing and, I’m sure my mouth did the “fish on dry land” gasping thing as I pushed and shoved my husband back through the door and into the hallway muttering, “wrong door, wrong door!”
And THEN we had to walk in to the audience and take our seats alongside the same people who had just been watching my little spectacle.
I’m glad my seventh grade self didn’t make such an error – I’m not sure she could have survived the humiliation. At this stage of life, I did laugh. Maybe it still took a moment – but I did. Life gives you perspective. Well that, and believe me, it is a LONG way from the most embarrassing or humiliating moments of my life. (If you’ve been a reader long – you know that already!) 🙂
Failure is something we can avoid only by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing.” – D.Waitley
Matter of fact – I don’t know if this event even qualifies as a failure! BUT… I do have a long list of failures. From small ones, like missing an appointment, or forgetting some paperwork – to the big ones that, years later, whisper in my heart at night when I want to sleep. The screw ups that torture me. The times I tried SO. VERY. HARD… and couldn’t make it work. The times I was so distracted by the wrong things that I didn’t really even try the right things = FAIL. Or when I simply gave up much to easily. FAIL.
And I know all the quotes about Thomas Edison and Dyson and so on and so on… I KNOW it… but sometimes… well, it just doesn’t feel like enough for a person who HATES to fail – and so easily sees her own shortcomings.
So. This year. 2016. I’m giving myself permission to fail.Based on the truth that failure is indeed part of life, and that things don’t get accomplished without failure, and that failure only wins if you stop trying and yada yada yada, I’m trying something different.
And if you are wired like me – where you will beat yourself up for 25 years for a mistake, you might want to try this too… And let’s just see how it works. It’s not a magic fix (ha ha ha – don’t we all wish!!) – but it IS a step… something tangible to move in the might direction… and sometimes that is the very best thing we can do… So….
This is a gift, from me to me – and to you.
This is a coupon good for “one epic fail.”
Use it as you need to. When you try – and it doesn’t go well – grab your coupon. Cash it in. Tear it up. Throw it in the air and say, out loud. “I tried something!” And learn – and then forgive yourself. Quickly. See, you had permission after-all.
Then print another one – and have it ready.
When we try things, we WILL mess up. Things WILL go wrong. Period. It IS going to happen. Let’s try things anyway.
Now – go out there and be ready to dance!
Because sometimes you accidentally end up on stage ~
and you still survive.