I like to imagine that I am a rational person. I would like to believe that I don’t care so much what other people think. It’s nice to pretend that I have enough sense to know that a beginner is not expected to do things perfectly all the time. Or ever.
So why was I wound tighter than a sharp E string last night in class, when I felt like I didn’t know how to do a technique correctly? I reminded myself to breathe, drop my shoulders, settle, breathe, drop my shoulders… It had no effect on the fear of humiliation turning my stomach into a knotted wet rag.
Watching myself from a sort of disembodied perspective it was pretty funny. Like “You idiot. Knock it off. You’re a freakin’ 6th kyu. Get over yourself.” But even when you know you’re being ridiculous it’s not always easy to shift to a more effective way of being.
It’s easy being a total newbie. It’s OK to know nothing at first. There’s no pressure. Maybe I’ve reached a point where I expect that I should know something by now. After a whole, what… less than a year?
And so here I am, being impatient with myself for being impatient with myself. Stupid ego.