My ‘traditional’ work in unusual places – speaking at events and running workshops in unfamiliar countries, followed by ‘untraditional’ work in a more common location – time in a dance studio in Bedford, where I once lived 20 years ago, followed by coming home to a house of revision and division as teenage angst and exam stress play out.
I’ve pushed and pushed and pushed myself. Where is my comfort zone? I’m not sure any more.
I feel disjointed, unravelled, not quite together. I feel like my bags. I have things left in cases I’ve not had time to unpack. Stuff thrown in unordered and unsorted in the rush to move from one place to the next too quickly. It’s as though my stomach hasn’t caught up with me. It’s lagging a country behind.
In the studio we worked on our flaws – what do they look like, how do they move? I have plenty of material to draw on.
I find seeing so-called flaws in others beautiful – the reminder that people are human, the vulnerability, the universal recognition of imperfection. Have a look at ‘show me your ugly’ and see what I mean.
Yet I find flaws in myself less easy to accept, to forgive, to find beautiful.
They say it takes 5 positives to neutralize 1 negative. It takes 20 positives to 1 negative to equal happiness.
I’m not sure I have 5 points of beauty for every flaw I see in myself. I’m not sure I can find 5 times the positive within every negative. I know that to find 20 feels like a mountain.
I can work in many places and in many ways. Of this I am proud. I can gain fantastic responses, feedback and comments – and can bask in the warmth that comes from these. I can face the wrath of one person’s anger and find myself going to pieces inside. The sun goes in, pride shatters, scatters like paper confetti and failure comes out to play – this feels far more familiar, I feel far more at home.
Is this my comfort zone?