Not being very sportsy, I haven’t played basketball much. A few days ago I got to watch my 12 years old grandson participate in a basketball camp. It was very interesting to watch. The boys were divided into groups of four with a high school mentor helping them with their skills. There was much attention to detail, such as how to hold your elbow when you shoot; when and how to use your toes; which muscles contribute to the power in your shot. Playing basketball is more than just accidental talent. It takes skills which can be carefully cultivated.
Life takes skills too; skills that can be carefully cultivated. I thought how nice it would be if we could have a little life skills camp. We could divide into groups of four with a carefully chosen mentor and we could practice our skills in classes like Courage For Beginners, Intermediate Trust, or Confidence 101. We could include things like how to deal with disappointment; how to keep trying when we feel like giving up; how to get along with difficult people.
Sometimes life is hard. We may struggle because we have been hurt. Maybe we have been told that we are not good enough. We may struggle under a burden of criticism, doubt, and blame. If we accept this negative programming, the battle will be long and there will be no victors. Perhaps we could learn in our life skills camp how to believe in ourselves; how to enjoy the journey; how to choose again.
Sometimes the enemy is within. We battle our own high expectations, often coming up short. We demand a degree of perfection that we cannot deliver. We may grapple with guilt, feelings of worthlessness, and shadowy fears. We beat ourselves up when we could be building ourselves up. We can be our own worst enemy. Wouldn’t you love a life skills camp that would teach us how to release our negative programming, how to love and support ourselves; how to be true to ourselves; how to remember who we really are.
I once read that most of our programming, both positive and negative, happens by the age of three. It sounds like we have been carrying those negative beliefs for a very long time. Isn’t it time for a change?
Do something kind for yourself today. Be willing to change some of that negative programming. Believe in yourself. Believe that you are good enough. Be your own best friend.
Believe.
Linda Garner
Showing posts with label confidence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label confidence. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
What Would I Do If I Was Not Afraid?
Fear is in the air we breathe today. We read fear in the newspapers and listen to it on the 5:00 news. We live in tumultuous times. We hear the evidence crashing all around us. The fear is almost tangible. This is more than a personal fear. This is a collective fear. I refuse to participate in the collective fear, for I have fears of my own.
What would I do if I wasn’t afraid? I read this question last week on Michelle Ashman Bell’s blog. I have been turning it over in my mind every since. What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?
Recently I have been on a personal quest to let go of things that no longer serve me. I want to dejunk on every level. I want to let go of clutter in my home, clutter in my life, clutter in my mind, and clutter in my heart. It isn’t easy, for I have been collecting clutter for a very long time. I have bonded with my clutter. I am emotionally attached to my clutter.
When it comes to emotional clutter I have a long list negative emotions I want to get rid of. I want to let go of anger, judgment, greed, envy, doubt, pride, worry—and yes, fear, to name a few. I want them gone. I want to send them packing. These negative emotions have been with me long enough. Oh, they pretended to be my friends, giving me a false sense of security, while all the while nibbling away at my peace and contentment, but it was all for show.
What is fear? Where did it come from? What am I afraid of? What is it costing me to maintain that fear? Who would I be without that fear? These are hard questions for me. Can I examine them without turning myself inside out?
I am only vaguely aware of fear’s shadow in my life. I have pushed him in a small closet and I pretend he isn’t there. I am a good pretender. Still, a shadow is a shadow, and he can be such a nuisance. What would it be like to have him gone? Where do I begin? What tools should I acquire? Do I need a pick-axe, or a scalpel? A sword, or a razor blade?
I have been scoring small victories in my personal battle with fear. They are little things, but they are adding up and that little closet is shrinking. I would like to build something in its place. Perhaps a spacious room called hope. Perhaps a lovely suite with room for trust and confidence. I’m drawing up the plans.
Last week I had the chance of a lifetime. Friends invited us to tour the tabernacle with a friend of theirs who had restored the tabernacle organ. It was not the twenty five cent tour. It was the twenty five dollar tour. We saw things that few ever see. We saw the wind chamber that supplies the temperature and humidity controlled air that feeds the hungry organ. We saw many of the 11,000 pipes that create the amazing sound of the giant instrument. We saw the view from above, below, and behind the organ. For two hours we saw and heard the intimate details of the life of this magestic musical creature. At the end of our tour, I was given the unlikely invitation to play the organ.
Those who know me well, know that I do not play the organ. Let me say that again. I do not play the organ. I have my own reasons, some of which are more reasonable than others. I am on friendly terms with the piano, but I am really uncomfortable playing it in front of people. I teach piano, but I rarely perform. It is so far out of my comfort zone that it is on another planet.
Imagine my dilemma. I have been invited to play the tabernacle organ in front of people. I do not play the organ—not ever. I do not play in front of people—almost never. This is the chance of a lifetime. What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?
Get back shadow. Close that closet door. Close it tight. Lock it. Throw away the key. You are not in charge here.
I am happy to report that I played that organ. I did not shake. I did not clutch. I was not amazing, but I was adequate, and for a moment or two, I was not afraid. I have a photo of my mother playing that same organ. Wouldn't it be fun to place my photo next to hers. We did not have a camera with us to capture my moment, so memory’s camera will suffice. I hope my mother was watching. Perhaps she had something to do with the invitation. It wouldn't surprise me.
What would you do if you were not afraid?
Linda Garner
What would I do if I wasn’t afraid? I read this question last week on Michelle Ashman Bell’s blog. I have been turning it over in my mind every since. What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?
Recently I have been on a personal quest to let go of things that no longer serve me. I want to dejunk on every level. I want to let go of clutter in my home, clutter in my life, clutter in my mind, and clutter in my heart. It isn’t easy, for I have been collecting clutter for a very long time. I have bonded with my clutter. I am emotionally attached to my clutter.
When it comes to emotional clutter I have a long list negative emotions I want to get rid of. I want to let go of anger, judgment, greed, envy, doubt, pride, worry—and yes, fear, to name a few. I want them gone. I want to send them packing. These negative emotions have been with me long enough. Oh, they pretended to be my friends, giving me a false sense of security, while all the while nibbling away at my peace and contentment, but it was all for show.
What is fear? Where did it come from? What am I afraid of? What is it costing me to maintain that fear? Who would I be without that fear? These are hard questions for me. Can I examine them without turning myself inside out?
I am only vaguely aware of fear’s shadow in my life. I have pushed him in a small closet and I pretend he isn’t there. I am a good pretender. Still, a shadow is a shadow, and he can be such a nuisance. What would it be like to have him gone? Where do I begin? What tools should I acquire? Do I need a pick-axe, or a scalpel? A sword, or a razor blade?
I have been scoring small victories in my personal battle with fear. They are little things, but they are adding up and that little closet is shrinking. I would like to build something in its place. Perhaps a spacious room called hope. Perhaps a lovely suite with room for trust and confidence. I’m drawing up the plans.
Last week I had the chance of a lifetime. Friends invited us to tour the tabernacle with a friend of theirs who had restored the tabernacle organ. It was not the twenty five cent tour. It was the twenty five dollar tour. We saw things that few ever see. We saw the wind chamber that supplies the temperature and humidity controlled air that feeds the hungry organ. We saw many of the 11,000 pipes that create the amazing sound of the giant instrument. We saw the view from above, below, and behind the organ. For two hours we saw and heard the intimate details of the life of this magestic musical creature. At the end of our tour, I was given the unlikely invitation to play the organ.
Those who know me well, know that I do not play the organ. Let me say that again. I do not play the organ. I have my own reasons, some of which are more reasonable than others. I am on friendly terms with the piano, but I am really uncomfortable playing it in front of people. I teach piano, but I rarely perform. It is so far out of my comfort zone that it is on another planet.
Imagine my dilemma. I have been invited to play the tabernacle organ in front of people. I do not play the organ—not ever. I do not play in front of people—almost never. This is the chance of a lifetime. What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?
Get back shadow. Close that closet door. Close it tight. Lock it. Throw away the key. You are not in charge here.
I am happy to report that I played that organ. I did not shake. I did not clutch. I was not amazing, but I was adequate, and for a moment or two, I was not afraid. I have a photo of my mother playing that same organ. Wouldn't it be fun to place my photo next to hers. We did not have a camera with us to capture my moment, so memory’s camera will suffice. I hope my mother was watching. Perhaps she had something to do with the invitation. It wouldn't surprise me.
What would you do if you were not afraid?
Linda Garner
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