Dropping Things
I've dropped a lot of things in my time.
Twenty-six years ago, when I was twelve, I went into my backyard with three tennis balls and didn't come out until I could juggle.
The strangest thing: I had no idea what I was doing. Sure, I'd seen Steve Martin juggle. I'd seen footage of jugglers. I'm told my great grandmother on my father's side juggled for me when I was so young I don't remember her.
But I wanted to juggle for some strange reason and with no instruction and the wrong method in my mind, I dropped and dropped until I figured it out.
* * *
While I've dropped a lot of things in my time, I've also picked things back up a lot, too.
Only to drop them again..
And again...
And again...
* * *
Juggling's a strange hobby. To get good, you have to suck.
A lot.
You may drop thousands of times before getting that one goofy trick that only another juggler who's worked hard truly appreciates. Your arms may burn; you may find yourself alone as it gets dark when you finally get that one thing you want to do more than anything at that moment in your life.
Few things feel better to me than finally getting a trick down as night falls with nobody around.
As visual as juggling is--as much fun as it is to share with others--it's those moments alone when you finally get it that chokes me up just thinking about.
It's those moments when you realize all the effort you've put into something finally paid off.
And then you move on, drop a lot more things, and keep doing it over and over.
It's a humbling hobby, where failure is the norm, and obsession is your only ally.
* * *
At my best, I could juggle seven things. Not for very long, but long enough to officially juggle seven things. There's no telling what my drop to success ratio is with seven things, but the day I officially juggled seven things, every drop getting there was priceless.
Without all those drops, I would have never known what it felt like to do something few people will ever do.
* * *
Somewhere along the way I stopped picking up the things I dropped. It became easier to leave things on the ground than it was to pick them back up and stick with them into the night, the next day, and the days after that. Sticking with it until succeeding, no matter how long it takes.
Quitting is easy.
When you've dropped something for your nth-thousandth time, sometimes the thought of getting through a pattern for a full cycle isn't enough inspiration to keep going.
Somewhere along the way I stopped juggling.
Everything...
* * *
I've never really thought about why I juggle--it's just something I always did. I used to say, "Juggling is who I am"; I used to say it was everything to me.
And it was.
But it wasn't about juggling--it was about the way I approached everything in my life.
I went into big things not afraid to drop thousands of times because I truly believed that in everything I tried, as long as I obsessed and picked things up and kept at it, I would one day feel the rush of its equivalent of juggling seven things.
* * *
I've forgotten what it feels like to juggle seven things.
I need to change that.
* * *
I've forgotten what it feels like to know I can do anything I set out to do.
I need to change that.
* * *
There's a lot of stuff I left laying on the ground over the years, and it's time to pick it all back up and finish the things I started.
Because juggling is who I am; it is everything to me...
Twenty-six years ago, when I was twelve, I went into my backyard with three tennis balls and didn't come out until I could juggle.
The strangest thing: I had no idea what I was doing. Sure, I'd seen Steve Martin juggle. I'd seen footage of jugglers. I'm told my great grandmother on my father's side juggled for me when I was so young I don't remember her.
But I wanted to juggle for some strange reason and with no instruction and the wrong method in my mind, I dropped and dropped until I figured it out.
* * *
While I've dropped a lot of things in my time, I've also picked things back up a lot, too.
Only to drop them again..
And again...
And again...
* * *
Juggling's a strange hobby. To get good, you have to suck.
A lot.
You may drop thousands of times before getting that one goofy trick that only another juggler who's worked hard truly appreciates. Your arms may burn; you may find yourself alone as it gets dark when you finally get that one thing you want to do more than anything at that moment in your life.
Few things feel better to me than finally getting a trick down as night falls with nobody around.
As visual as juggling is--as much fun as it is to share with others--it's those moments alone when you finally get it that chokes me up just thinking about.
It's those moments when you realize all the effort you've put into something finally paid off.
And then you move on, drop a lot more things, and keep doing it over and over.
It's a humbling hobby, where failure is the norm, and obsession is your only ally.
* * *
At my best, I could juggle seven things. Not for very long, but long enough to officially juggle seven things. There's no telling what my drop to success ratio is with seven things, but the day I officially juggled seven things, every drop getting there was priceless.
Without all those drops, I would have never known what it felt like to do something few people will ever do.
* * *
Somewhere along the way I stopped picking up the things I dropped. It became easier to leave things on the ground than it was to pick them back up and stick with them into the night, the next day, and the days after that. Sticking with it until succeeding, no matter how long it takes.
Quitting is easy.
When you've dropped something for your nth-thousandth time, sometimes the thought of getting through a pattern for a full cycle isn't enough inspiration to keep going.
Somewhere along the way I stopped juggling.
Everything...
* * *
I've never really thought about why I juggle--it's just something I always did. I used to say, "Juggling is who I am"; I used to say it was everything to me.
And it was.
But it wasn't about juggling--it was about the way I approached everything in my life.
I went into big things not afraid to drop thousands of times because I truly believed that in everything I tried, as long as I obsessed and picked things up and kept at it, I would one day feel the rush of its equivalent of juggling seven things.
* * *
I've forgotten what it feels like to juggle seven things.
I need to change that.
* * *
I've forgotten what it feels like to know I can do anything I set out to do.
I need to change that.
* * *
There's a lot of stuff I left laying on the ground over the years, and it's time to pick it all back up and finish the things I started.
Because juggling is who I am; it is everything to me...