…if you knew you could not fail?
That question was posed to me last week in Wolf Rinke’s book, Make it a Winning Life. It was far from the first time I’d heard or read the question, but it hit me like a ton of bricks this time.
Most of my life, I have lived as if I had this question tattooed on my forearm for easy reference. Similarly I read Goethe’s quote as a teenager…
Whatever you can do, or think you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.
…and thought not, “wow” or “gee, I wonder if…” but, “thank goodness someone with the verbal grace and influence to make it known saw this truth.” I find it interesting how sometimes it’s not my older self but my younger self I need to reach to for guidance.
At 20, I must say I had it pretty “together” in some powerful and unusual ways. Even then, folks in their forties and fifties enjoyed communicating with me, and I think part of it was a blend of tactfulness and straightforwardness. I would wait for the right time and place, but I definitely called it as I saw it and did what I felt moved to do even if it seemed unconventional, especially when I felt the stakes were exceptionally high. But in recent times, I’ve noticed myself doing these strange little mazurkas around what I really want to say, especially when there’s something quite important that needs to be made quite clear…and wondering, “if I try to do this, will it happen or will I just end up embarrassing myself?”
There’s a reason why I read books like Make it a Winning Life. I’ve started asking myself, what would I do if I knew I could not fail? The effects are already dual.
For one, there’s the sudden increase in action and willingness. Phone calls are happening a little quicker – not that they were at all slow or delayed before, but they’re happening, say, before I shower in the morning instead of after. I’m starting to wonder if perhaps the time has come to work on a second CD, and if maybe today could be the day I get the tech support I need to get my CBR software running. It doesn’t seem so improbable anymore that I could master more than one of the instruments I have in the house, though it would surely take years of effort. I’m wondering if perhaps, despite my busyness, I could do some more soft sculpture work once in a while just for creative variety. What would I do if I knew I could not fail? Start now, and have faith.
Also I’m starting to notice the Pygmalion effect more than usual. When I don’t doubt that something will work, it usually does. If I just throw the book, it will end up on the bed in just the right place. Nevertheless, if I think I’m going to have trouble opening a container of pomegranate tea, I end up wearing part of it. If I rattle off an impromptu rhyme (think something like a comedic version of a poetry slam) and don’t imagine myself having any trouble with it, it comes out clear as a bell. If, on the other hand, I’m worried about stumbling over something much shorter with a lot of alliteration, however, such as ordering a “blueberry bliss” smoothie…well, last time I went to the counter feeling wound up I ordered a “blueberry briss.” Well, if the blueberries are Semitic, male, and eight days old I suppose it’s time…and hiring a rabbi to help the barista would certainly explain why a simple cup of pureed fruit costs $5…
Well, now that I have a lot of disturbing questions in my head regarding the circumcision of fruit, I suppose I’ll wrap it up by saying that this is turning out to be a good question to ask myself. And what about you, the reader? What would you do if you knew you could not fail?
