What if you didn’t try so hard? What if you could do less, even less?
As a recovering perfectionist, the idea of not trying so hard has been an ongoing journey with many phases, levels, layers, and revelations. As someone who showed early signs of developing an ulcer in the 7th grade, trying to be good, right, and perfect was a deep knot to untie.
I was telling a friend recently about my experience in grad school with a professor who let us choose our grades. If we wanted an A, these were the assignments; if we wanted a B, then these were the required assignments; if we wanted a C, then these. The first semester I had him, of course I went for an A, why wouldn’t I? But the second semester I took one of his classes, I chose a B. Some tiny space of letting go had opened by that point in myself to consider it could be, not just okay, but beneficial to my well-being to choose a B. And it was. The deep knot began to loosen even more, and in the loosening, more aliveness and life could enter. In my body, good/right/perfect manifests as tension, rigidity, and constriction through the many layers of muscle, tissue, and fascia.
In my movement practice (5Rhythms), the dance floor has offered a tangible place to explore letting go. Whether it’s the big movements of my body shaking and head releasing, or the more subtle ways my holding back or carrying tension can surrender to my feet, to the beat. There is no other smile like the one I feel coming from inside when my body actually stops trying and doing and lets itself be moved.
When I was dancing this past weekend, following the impulse to move from within, not to force anything, I heard the facilitator say into the space, into our dancing cells, “what if you could not try so hard?” Something deep in my tissue let go, my face softened, tears rolled over the ridges of my eyes.
Really? Is it really that okay, to just do a little less? Maybe it’s worth finding out.
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