i struggle with beginnings. with first introductions, with hitting the call button, with reaching out to people whose work i admire or who i’d like to get to know better. i struggle with blank pages and blinking cursors. i struggle with signing up to courses, with walking into an unfamiliar office or cafe or yoga studio. i struggle with looking foolish, or awkward, or not-good-enough.
i am a perfectionist.
i keep things to myself. in my head, or in my journal. i write dozens of blog posts that languish, unpublished, on my hard drive or the cloud. they could always be a little better, more succinct, funnier, more insightful. even as i write this, i’m pushing past the resistance that screams “you could do better” or worse still, “someone else could do it better, so why even bother?”.
that little voice, that constant comparison with others, has kept me quiet for most of my adult life so far. always dreaming, never doing. consuming but not creating. being a passive observer, admiring those with the guts to put themselves out there through writing or art, photography or videos, craft or design.
this stops now.
i’m embracing the japanese concept of wabi sabi, and learning to accept transience and imperfection. i’m embracing being a beginner again and all that comes along with it.
in the end, this blog may not be perfect, but it’s mine.