Excitement.

With a mixture of fear.

I’ve noticed these two emotions crop up simultaneously, without fail, whenever I am contemplating the act of creating something.

They two are Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Seamless twins – there is not one without the other.

I  feel both welling up, threatening to either jumpstart me into action or stop me dead in my tracks, depending on which emotion wins the battle brewing within.

Truthfully, I’ve been walking this planet for 4 decades and almost every time this battle begins, fear wins.

Why?

Because that is what I choose.

It is a beautiful winter day, I am at the ball field watching my 14 year old daughter, Olivia, play in an 18U softball tournament.

I should be holed up in my cabin in TN, maybe sitting by the fire, reading a book while drinking myself numb. Wishing I were someplace else… someone else… aware enough not to be completely out of it, but gone enough to drown out the relentless voice inside.

You know, that critical voice that always lets me know that somehow I’m not good enough, not prepared enough, just not yet… perfect.

‘But don’t worry,’ it consoles. ‘You’ll get there… one day. Just keep working on it. Try a little harder. Eventually you’ll figure it all out, you’ll arrive, and then… then, you can create something.’

This year things are different.

Six months ago I asked the old me to exit stage left. As a rule of thumb I’m pretty amiable, so I complied.

Enter the new me, and here I am stone cold sober, enjoying the beautiful, 77 degree, clear sunny skies that SW Florida has to offer in Mid-January. I soak up the sun, gratitude filling my heart and soul. So very thankful that Life has moved me here, to this place, at this time.

I am half listening to a podcast on creativity, half watching the game.

Confidently, Olivia stands at the pitcher’s plate, her 5’ 8” frame is cool, calm, and collected… She is waiting for her coach to call her next pitch.

The score is 1-1. There are two outs, runners on 2^ndand 3^rd, she has a full count, and she faces the very large, 4 hole hitter.

“Base hit, ball four” The coach for the other team reminds the batter.

The girls in the opposing dugout begin their sing-song chant in unison, “3-2, Watcha gonna do? Say walk her, walk her.”

The inning is on the line.

Nervously, I bite my nails.

I am distracted momentarily by the voice in the podcast.

“The idea of perfection stops us from all creativity,” The voice says. “If we waited until we thought we were ready, we would never create anything.”

Time stands still.

When Olivia was younger I never considered her very athletic. She was always bull-strong but she ran like a girl, threw like a girl, and danced like an elephant. Graceful she was not.

Remembering back to her earlier days in softball, there were times I thought she didn’t belong out there. Her Dad, equally bull-headed, thought otherwise and persisted. The two continued to work together, taking rep after rep, and slowly, patiently working to improve her craft.

She wasn’t naturally talented, show-stopping skilled or anywhere near perfect.

She just showed up.

Every. Single. Day.

“7-3-9-2” Olivia’s coach calls from the dugout.

“7-3-9-2” a chorus of girls echo on the field.

Olivia makes a show of checking her wristband, but she already knows what 7392 means. Cutter – Low and In. Now graceful, she rocks back and begins her pitch. A brief, beautiful dance that she has spent years perfecting. Circling her arm, she releases the ball.

As the ball sails through the air into the zone, a cocky smile explodes across the 18 year old batter’s face. This pitch, she knows she is going to crush. I mean, the ball is right in the zone.

The batter launches the bat, throwing every ounce of her 250lb. frame into the swing. At the last second, the softball cuts out of the zone, darting down and in.

The bat whiffs, making contact with nothing but air.

“STEEEE – RIKE THREE!” The umpire yells as he violently karate chops his hands to visually confirm his call.

The catcher rockets the softball back to the beautiful young pitcher. Olivia simultaneously catches and releases the ball to the dirt as she saunters off the field, an enormous smile spreading across her face.

The podcast is still running…

“And don’t defend your art. Because when you defend it then you have to babysit it, take care of it. It’s not yours, it’s art. You do it and release it.”

Tears are welling up in my eyes.

For a moment I am caught in the middle of two worlds. In one, I am watching years of hard work, persistence, and just plain showing up blossom like a vast orchard of Dogwoods in early spring. All I can do is bask in the pride that is welling up in my heart.

In the other, I am left with an invitation, an invitation to myself to stop asking for perfect and just start showing up.

Create something…

Today, for the first time in 41 years, as my inner battle between Excitement and Fear wage, I feel a shift.

This time…

Excitement wins.

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I wrote this piece roughly 1.5 years ago. It was my first blog entry back when I had 0 followers. Growth is amazing… I am thrilled about the decision I made. That day I decided to face my fears, give my perfectionism the boot, and take a chance.

My daughter has since grown into a powerhouse. At nearly 16, she stands roughly 5’11” and continues to hone her craft daily. She is a true inspiration to me and it is a joy to watch her as she works to master her sport.

The featured image “Sweet Sixteen” is a sketch I did of her from a photo taken at one of her games.