True learning (as opposed to education) is a voluntary experience that requires tension and discomfort (the persistent feeling of incompetence as we get better at a skill).

Seth Godin, “The Practice: Shipping Creative Work”

Getting older (I know, you, the majority of my readers, will smirk and snigger at this, perhaps even roll your eyes) - getting older feels like a gradual discovery of our true selves.

A carving and chipping away at the marble block, which slowly takes the shape of the person you’ve always been. Midway through it, one can really see the tilt of your head but the special indentations where your neck meets your shoulders have not been developed yet.

A careful bathing of the photographic print of your personality in dangerous chemicals, timed and processed in total darkness, all designed to bring you into focus.

This is what it feels like to me. I sense this coming into focus, shaping and forming, brought about by external forces but exposing the features that have always been there.

I sometimes look at the pictures of my kids that I took when they there babies and along the way as they got older. I see their features sharpening, their quirks becoming more pronounced and their characters showing more and more. But I can also recognize all these features in the small rosebud of a person they were - only quieter, waiting to blossom.

It’s like that.

What has become clear to me lately is that I intentionally seek out discomfort. Not for the sake of feeling uncomfortable…but as a side effect of pushing boundaries, challenging status quo and in general feeling compelled to rock the boat. I confess. I feel nervous when things are static, structured, and comfortable. I feel restless.

I was surprised by this discovery because I’ve always thought of myself as relatively risk-averse…even though people who know me in personal or professional life tell me otherwise. My boyfriend Erik was telling me a few months ago about a childhood friend of his, the kind of a friend who incites you to do questionable things that might get you in trouble.

“Everyone has a friend like that.”

I thought pretty hard for a few minutes. I could not remember having a friend like that.

And then it hit me: I was that friend. I’d get my friends to follow me into the questionable decisions. I was the rebel.

Granted, my ideas were rather tame and I rarely engaged in anything too dangerous. I was an evangelical Christian for most of my adolescence and early adulthood, so that probably helped to keep me out of too much trouble (read: no sex or drugs. Limited rock-n-roll). But still…I remember, for example, challenging my barely teenage friend to walk on the parapet of our 9-story apartment building with me, for fun.

I am that friend. I am a rebel. I am a leader.

Somewhere, some time ago, the shaping and development of this feature got put on hold or maybe I was just more aware of other traits I needed then and there. Maybe it took all this time for the chemicals to be just right. I try to stay away from magical thinking and assuming that things happen for a reason when they happen - but I also think that if the time feels right, then it’s the right time.

The discomfort I look for feels exciting and a little bit dangerous. Reading Seth Godin’s “The Practice”, quoted at the very top of this post, I see the truth of sharing your art as a form of leadership. It carries the inherent risk of: rejection, indifference, embarrassment. It takes generosity and bravery to share it and it might not work.

It may be a mistake.

And this discomfort, this fear of being wrong, misunderstood or under-qualified, is always there when you step out of the box. It makes you work harder and burn brighter.

I will probably always be a little bit restless, I accept that. But as long as my itch to change the world around me is stronger than the fear of failing at it, it’s a good thing.

And I have so much respect and admiration for you. For daring to share your art - whatever form it takes - despite the flutter of fear in your stomach. For risking rejection or indifference. For trying to change the world.

Thank you.