Trying hard enough to falter is far different than trying hard not to falter.

We’re supposed to make mistakes. That is life’s definition of not being perfect.

     As I was learning how to hula hoop (as an embarrassed American adult), the instructor would gently and repeatedly remind us all (this was not a private lesson, hence the chagrin), that if our hoop wasn’t hitting the ground frequently, that meant we were playing it too safe . . . we weren’t stretching . . . we weren’t risking anything new . . .

Fair enough, I thought, as I threw the hoop across the gym.

more honesty,

I was doing the minimum effort and only for show . . .

And soon stopped doing even that ……. because it was boring …….

. . . so it must have been a stupid thing to try to begin with, right? (my brain chirped in trying to be supportive) If it ended up being boring? (my brain added for good measure, convincing itself even further)

Fair enough . . . and . . . might I suggest an alternate perspective to consider? ( . . . not alternate facts . . . I hooped what I hooped and I felt what I felt. Oh, by the way, so did everyone else!) We hooped together individually . . . so perhaps . . . the attitude or approach I was using, and not the activity itself, might be what is making the difference . . . making everything seem so stupid and boring?

Just wondering

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    Disclaimer: Poetic license is at work both here and in my books. Any errors or anomalies are through no fault of my editor. These were left deliberately at my expressed intention to clearly indicate that goodness does not require perfection.

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