Part Two: What If You Actually Tried?

Part Two of a four-part series on the stories we tell ourselves and the choices we make.

One of the things I hear regularly in my studio is, "I can't dance."

Someone will come in for a dance class, look around, and announce this before we've even started. Sometimes they tell me someone said they had no rhythm when they were young. Sometimes they remember being teased when they tried to dance at school or at a party. Others never took dance lessons as children and somehow concluded that dancing was a skill they missed their chance to acquire.

Poppycock.

Now, I understand that being teased can hurt. If you were embarrassed in front of your classmates when you were twelve, you might remember that experience for a very long time. And if someone you trusted told you that you weren't good at something, it's understandable that you might believe them.

But let's look at what actually happened. Someone made a comment. You had an uncomfortable experience. Or you simply never learned a particular skill. Somewhere along the way, that information turned into a conclusion about who you are.

"I had trouble dancing in gym class" became "I can't dance."

"I've never learned how" became "I'm not capable of learning."

Those are very different statements, aren't they?

In Part One, I talked about how easily an experience or an idea can turn into a rule we live by. Sometimes we accept those rules without ever checking to see whether they're accurate. And sometimes, even when we begin to question them, we still hesitate to do anything that might prove them wrong.

Which brings us to an interesting question: What if we actually tried?

You Don't Have to Be Good at Something to Enjoy It

Here's what I wish more people understood. You don't have to be a naturally gifted dancer to enjoy dancing.

You don't have to have a beautiful singing voice to enjoy singing. You don't have to be a brilliant writer to write or an accomplished artist to enjoy painting.

We seem to have developed this idea that an activity is worthwhile only if we're good at it. If we can't picture ourselves doing it well, we decide there's no point in trying. And if we do try and discover that we're not particularly good at first, we take that as confirmation that we were right all along.

But where did we get the idea that everything we do has to be a performance?

Somewhere along the way, we seem to have confused learning a skill with proving our worth. We look at people who've been dancing for years and compare ourselves with them on our first day. We hear an accomplished singer and decide that because we can't sound like that, we shouldn't sing at all.

It's a rather ridiculous standard when you think about it. Nobody expects a beginner to have the skills of someone who's been practicing for twenty years. Yet we can be remarkably hard on ourselves when we don't immediately perform at a level we admire in someone else.

I think we need to give ourselves permission to be beginners again.

But What If I Tried and I'm Still Not Good at It?

That's a fair question. And the honest answer is that you might try something and discover you're not particularly good at it.

You might find that learning takes longer than you expected, that you need more practice, or that some aspects of the activity are harder for you than they are for other people.

You might even discover that you don't enjoy it very much.

That's all useful information.

Trying something doesn't obligate you to pursue it for the rest of your life. You're allowed to experiment, learn something about yourself, and decide whether you want to continue. But at least then you're making a decision based on your own experience rather than an assumption about what will happen.

And here's something else worth considering: the first attempt may tell you very little about what you're capable of doing with practice.

When someone comes into my studio for a dance class, I don't expect them to walk through the door knowing how to dance. That's why we have classes. We break things down, practice the movements, and learn together. Some people pick things up quickly, and others need more time. That's perfectly normal.

The goal isn't to identify the people who are naturally talented and send everyone else home. The goal is to help people learn, move, and enjoy themselves.

You don't have to become an exceptional dancer. You can simply become someone who dances.

You May Never Make It to the Big Stage

Let's say you've always wanted to sing. Perhaps you imagine yourself performing in front of an audience, but the thought of doing so makes you nervous. You worry that your voice isn't good enough, that people will laugh, or that you'll embarrass yourself.

What if you started somewhere smaller? You could take a few lessons, join a community choir, or find a group of people who enjoy singing together. You might discover that you love it. You might become a better singer than you ever expected. Or you might simply enjoy getting together with other people once a week to make music.

You may never sing on the Grand Ole Opry stage. You may never make a living as a singer. But does that mean the experience isn't worth having?

The same applies to dancing, painting, writing, acting, photography, or making a podcast. You may never become famous. You may never attract a large audience. You may never reach the level of skill you admire in someone else.

But you could find something that brings you pleasure, gives you a reason to get out of the house, introduces you to interesting people, or provides a satisfying challenge. You could discover a part of yourself that has been sitting on the sidelines for years.

I think that's worth a great deal.

Sometimes We Need to Challenge Our Own Stories

It's one thing to recognize that an old belief might not be true. It's another to do something about it.

If you've always believed you can't dance, take a dance class. If you've always wanted to sing, find a singing group. If you have something to say and have been thinking about starting a podcast, try recording a short episode. You don't have to publish it. You don't have to tell anybody. You can simply see what happens when you give yourself permission to try.

And please, give yourself more than one attempt if the first one is awkward. The first time you do something unfamiliar, you're learning the activity itself, figuring out how it works, and getting used to being a beginner. It's a lot to take on at once.

Give yourself time to become comfortable. Find a teacher or a group that makes you feel welcome. Look for people who encourage you to learn rather than making you feel that you need to prove yourself.

You don't need to throw yourself into the deep end to demonstrate that you're brave. You just need to take a step that allows you to find out something new about yourself.

In Ayurveda, we talk about developing discernment, or vichara. We learn to observe our thoughts and habits, examine our assumptions, and make more conscious choices. That process doesn't end when we recognize an old belief. We can also use it to decide what we're willing to explore.

Perhaps you discover that the voice telling you not to try something belongs to an old experience rather than your present circumstances. Perhaps you realize you've been waiting for permission that nobody else needs to give you. Or perhaps you simply recognize that you're curious enough to find out what might happen.

You don't need to replace "I can't do that" with "I can do anything." That's just trading one sweeping assumption for another.

Instead, try saying, "I don't know whether I can do that yet. Why don't I find out?"

I like that much better. It leaves room for learning, for surprises, and for the possibility that we might enjoy something even if we never become particularly good at it.

What Have You Been Waiting to Try?

I think we sometimes get so accustomed to the boundaries we've placed around ourselves that we forget they're there.

We stop noticing the things we'd like to do because we've already decided they're not realistic, not sensible, or not meant for people like us.

I'm not suggesting that you abandon your responsibilities or chase every passing interest. We all have limits on our time, energy, and resources. But there is a difference between making a thoughtful decision about how to spend your time and ruling yourself out before you've even given something a chance.

So, is there something you've wanted to try? Something you've told yourself you're too old for, not talented enough for, or simply not the sort of person who does?

What would happen if you gave it a fair shot?

You might discover a talent you didn't know you had. You might find a new community. You might laugh at yourself a little, learn something, and decide it's not for you. Or you might find a new activity that becomes one of the most enjoyable parts of your life.

You don't have to make it to the big stage. You don't have to impress anybody. You don't even have to be particularly good.

You just have to be willing to find out what happens when you actually try.

And once you've decided to try, there's another question worth asking: How do you find an approach that works for you? Because what helps one person get started, stick with a plan, and keep making progress might be exactly the wrong approach for someone else.

That's what we'll explore in Part Three: Why the Same Plan Doesn't Work for Everyone.