Do. Or Do Not. There is no TRY.

One of the nicest things a boss ever said to me was, "So you failed. So what. If you don't fail at something else by Thanksgiving, you're not trying hard enough." It was a petty event, that roller-skating night that no one showed up to six years ago. But Joe giving me free reign to fall flat on my face definitely opened the door to some creative thinking for the next few years.

I've been wondering lately where that freedom has disappeared to. It didn't exist working as Pete's assistant, where he used to email me from the plane to tell me he didn't like the seat he got stuck in (I kept telling him when you book a nonstop to JFK two hours before the flight, you don't get an aisle seat). I don't know whether it exists in therapy, where you're stepping into someone's life. Somewhere along the way the "safe zones," the places to mess up royally and gleefully in the name of experiential education, disappear.

So I've been making myself play intramural volleyball. "Volleyball," you ask, "what does that have to do with failing?" Well, you see, I suck royally at volleyball, and the compulsion to just go play more ultimate instead is pretty tempting, especially because everyone else on my team is really good, and I'm usually off in the corner trying to get out of the way or hitting myself in the face. But in a recent conversation with a friend, the question was raised, "would you still do something you weren't good at, just for fun?" I do it all day long professionally, but could I do it, on purpose, as a hobby, and find it fun? The truth is, I seethe for the whole first game of volleyball. I do not like to be incompetent. But my team is very welcoming, and they insist on continuing to set the ball to me despite the fact that I rarely hit it over the net. So I keep hitting, and every time it goes flying across the gym I tell myself that I am not defined by whether or not I do something dumb, and by the end of the second game I almost believe it, because the people around me believe it, and by the end of the third game I'm actually having a good time. And thus, being really bad at something is proving to be very good for me.

So maybe Yoda was wrong, maybe there is still a "try" and not just a "do," even a few years into grownupdom.