Day 345: Throw Your Hands In The Air

345 - check it out!

Typing 345 was strangely satisfying. I do say I'm easily pleased and it really is true, isn't it? 

This morning I was pleased simply by the capacity to rock up to open up the Hub after my swim without being obscenely late. That was enough. That and the water, of course. 

Gasp reflex, apparently.

We're back. We're back to water that robs you of your breath and makes you know with every cell that you're real. We're back to switching off the bit of your head that says 'What The Fuck?' as you take off your clothes and walk out, in a swimming costume still damp from the day before, across concrete, to a set of rope-handled steps to walk down into water colder than is sensible. And do you know what? I fucking love that we're back. My body loves it and my mind does too. It takes me back down to the cells that make me. It brings me into the water and back to the earth. It grounds me.

Check out the Dweck. She has shit to say about changing your mind.
http://www.aaronsw.com/weblog/dweck
The reason I liked this is because, despite lots of playing with failure and lots of doing scary things and lots and lots of trying, there are still things I'm definitely holding onto as far as my identity is concerned... and not all useful bits. I regularly laugh in my own face, now, as I tell myself I'm 'just not the type' that has long-term relationships, or that 'I'm a born addict/procrastinator/twat' - I'm massively attached to the twat bit, if I'm honest. I'd like to stop the other two. Twat's probably the money shot, then, isn't it. That's the one I need to let go of. 

Hippy dippy happy shit

One way I know that is how irate I get inside when I hear it in the mouths of others. 'I always .... (insert bullshit)'. 'I'm not the kind of person who ever... (flap, flap, flap)'. 'Ha! Typical me!' It's not a reason, it's an excuse. And if I never did that myself, why would it tug at my belly in that dull way that nags? I had a mole removed with local anaesthetic one time. That kind of tugging - you can feel shit going on and things being vaguely manhandled, but it's just sensation - not actual pain. That's what it feels like, only I get kind of mad as well - mad at how people limit themselves (how dare they?) and how they fail to realise their own potential for the sake of a faux-comfortable concept of who they think they are (the cheek!). 

Yeah, if I was out of that, I'm sure I'd feel a wave of warmth and love and I'd just flow on through. Nope. Not there yet. Still sitting on my potential like some sacred egg, scared to get off in case the fucking thing hatches on my ass and bleeds out alien babies that are going to suck the life out of me through my face or something. Surely doing what you love can't be THAT painful!

I just did what I love. I just ran an impro session that I thought was not going to happen. I ached in my belly, feeling bad that I hadn't advertised it enough and, if I'm honest, hoping it wouldn't go ahead. Chickenshit! I'd even suggested to someone who was going to come that the trip from Herne Hill might be too far for a class that was blatantly going to be cancelled. Sorry. So, just after 7, possibly just before, the person I got talking to on the train to Southend last Sunday turned up (Greek/German). We chatted for a good ten minutes before the buzzer went again and a French guy turned up, not even sure where he heard about it from. Then a Spanish guy showed up. It wasn't until he already had a cup of tea that he realised he was at the wrong session. The session he wanted to attend, about social enterprise and its potential effect on the Spanish economy, IS at Hub Islington... in TWO WEEKS' TIME. That's a fabulous mistake to make. 

Could you do it on here?

So anyway, he stayed. We played. We started so late and it was such a small group that I didn't charge them. It was really, really good, though. It's amazing what you can achieve in that kind of short period of time when people are open and willing and up for a fail. They were all new and one wasn't even supposed to be there! We did lots of lovely things. We laughed. We each found different things challenging and others easy. 

These gentlemen were all delightful and I was very glad to have them there. It rocked! That's what I love - and yet I was scared of it and hesitant. Maybe, like this guy says (http://www.aaronsw.com/weblog/dalio  - and I've mentioned this article before), we need to 'lean into' the things that give us pain when we even think about them and get really good at them. KEEP ON doing things that scare you. Keep biting off more than anyone can chew. Keep celebrating failure (as says Dweck, part of the same series). Keep on fucking up and throwing our hands in the air with glee rather than exasperation... I knew this would be meaty. What more can we get out of it?

I loved that someone told me that they liked that when I fuck up, I jump up in the air with my eyes closed and my fist raised, cheering 'like a little kid'. That made me very happy. It's true. I do it automatically now. Might try that when I write stuff I don't like. Could be a key.

Not hotel sex. AND repeat image. Still funny.

Lovely chat with lovely Dan who lives in my house. I hardly ever see him, but he's always a delight when I do. He told me I should have his room, if I can't sleep in mine. That's massively generous and possibly a bit mental. He bigged it up by saying it's really quiet and you see people having sex all the time. There's a hotel behind us. Apparently, he sees different people doing that daily. That's funny, isn't it? I'm sold!