The Joys of Falling

We saved our money over a period of months and went to Telluride, Colorado for a winter get away.  We settled in the day of our arrival adjusting to the altitude.  Day two we went snowmobiling and pretended we were all kids again.  Day three Isabelle and I took skiing lessons while Mike rode the ski lift and zipped down the mountains ignoring his aging knees.  Day four we skied together as a family.  Well, some of us skied better than others.  According to Isabelle, “Mom, your wipeout was EPIC!”  Yep, I fell and slid on the snow into a ski boundary pole.  I have the bruises to prove it.  We laughed for a long time.  Another time coming down Sundance ski run, I cartwheeled myself into a ski pretzel and a kind stranger came to my aid and untangled me.  When I got to the bottom of Sundance I felt so accomplished!  Only one wipeout the entire way down.

Yes, I fell.  Yes, my pride was periodically wounded.  I also got better and better as I continued to practice and used what I was learning.  And I had some great laughs with my family as we regaled the tales of “mom’s epic wipeouts.”  Part of learning anything new is being willing to make a fool of yourself.  So many times in my life I haven’t tried things because they scared me, didn’t come easily or because I thought I would look foolish. That’s not living.

What if you started today to challenge yourself to do those things you’ve been afraid to try—learning to paint or become a photographer; reach for the job opportunity that seems like a stretch but is really your dream; trying a sport that is unfamiliar because you don’t feel you are very “sporty”, riding a horse; going to a gym for the first time? Think how different your life would look a year from now.  Think about how much more interesting you become to yourself and others as you nurture your interests and passions.  Imagine how rich your life becomes as you invest in these experiences and yourself.  There will always be some fear and trepidation related to falling (literally and figuratively) into something new—tell yourself that feeling is excitement.

Maybe I’ve arrived at what my mother calls “the age of who cares”—meaning who cares what others think.  Or maybe I’ve finally learned how to embrace the joys of falling in all the things I try.