Accidentally peeing in public, falling face-first in the dead center of a party, completely losing your place in a pitch to a new client team because of your jack-hammer stuttering until you give up, fall silent, adopt a catatonic blank stare, turn and walk right out... Episodes like these are evidence that you are in the game. In my quest for ninjahood, I've learned the key to success is not in achieving flawless, fall-less, confident perfection, but in learning how to take chances and navigate the tumbles. We ninjas call it "Kung Fu Falling."
Traditionally, as boys grow up they are encouraged to take risks, try new things, compete in sports, skateboard all night and bleed all over their little skater shorts. They become well-versed in taking tumbles. Girls, on the other hand, are encouraged to value fitting into the group, never standing out and cooperating even if it means diminishing ourselves a little - or a lot. Never the break dancing superstar, just the girl standing by with the boom box. This has created a great reticence in many of us, a discomfort with falling, failing, or ever trying. An interesting statistic: Only one in ten girls will volunteer to try a new technology in the classroom, whereas nine in ten boys volunteer.
Ninety percent of having the confidence to try something new is rooted in your comfort with falling, even if it's in front of an audience suppressing laughter at your expense. When I used to take riding lessons, my horse would often give me a nice, public humbling in front of my fellow riders (a few being very cute and adorable "jocks"). I frequently wound up on the ground instead of maintaining my seat, as my horse tried every trick in the book to dismount me. (I found out later he'd secretly been reading the equine manual "Ridding your Rider for Good: A Step-by-Step Guide to Reaching Every Horse's Dream of a Luxurious Life at Pasture.")
Despite having my ego shoveled down my throat, along with a pound of dirt and grass, actually experiencing those falls and surviving them lessened my fear of how horrible they are. Sometimes I even manage to rise in a fit of laughter at my dorkitude because falling is freeing. Bruises are beautiful, couraeous to acquire, and sassy to show off later. They are like postcards of ninja living.
Isn't it cool that when someone really sheds her ego and gets real, gets human and makes mistakes, it actually invites other humans to connect with her? When someone says, "I know it all, I've got it covered," there isn't any room for anyone else to participate, relate or share wisdom. But when you are humbly fallible, you become more accessible. The anxiety of perfectionism lifts while fluidity and community step in. The biggest comfort is in knowing that your genuine loved ones will stick by you whether you stay on the horse or fall off headfirst.
So dive in. Try. Kung Fu Fall. Laugh, get up. Then stay up.
Until next time,
