practice failing

My grandfather would always say to us as kids that practice makes perfect.

It was usually when we were playing “tennis” against the bricks on the back of the garage. He taught me how to ride a bike and how to swim, despite not knowing how to swim himself. A first generation Italian immigrant from Brooklyn who eventually would become a self made millionaire and his story is properly epic. I promise to eventually write it. Cross my heart.

But as a kid, he seemed like one of us. When I think of him now, I marvel at the kind of man he was. He found so much joy in what he did. He played, really played. And he laughed and he was silly and he loved his family fiercely.

Not that he was perfect. He made mistakes. Big ones. Epic even.

More on that later, too.

“Practice makes perfect,” has always stuck with me in some way but it has evolved.

The perfection part needed changing. That word always makes me sort of furrow my brow and wrinkle my nose. Like- no thanks.

Let’s be honest, unless you’re some Olympic athlete training since you were 4 sacrificing everything going for gold-

aiming for perfection is a really good way of never being happy.

But the practice of it. That’s where the magic is.

Grandpa just never mentioned that you never stop practicing. He left that for us to learn ourselves. Sly old fox.

I am taking it a step further this morning as I find myself excited about practicing my writing habits. Not so much the skills and success of it. Not for perfection but for the exact opposite really.

For the unperfected. For the just ok, for the done is good, for the beginning stages. Maybe even for the mediocre or hell, the downright terrible. Why not, right?

Give it your worst shot.

And then do it again. And again.

Cook the worst dish. Run the slowest mile. Write the most terrible thing. Pitch the bad idea, ask the wrong question, take the ugliest picture, create the lousiest art. You get the idea.

Cause when you take away the negative part parts, what are left with?

Cook the dish, run the mile, write the thing, pitch the idea, ask the question, take the picture, create the art.

Then just keep going. This is not meant to be mistaken for being easy. No no. Sorry.

But practice failing enough and it just becomes regular old and honest practice.

And maybe that’s all there is.

Constant and ever changing. Maybe you’ll find perfection, good for you. But I bet you anything, by the time that actually happens, it won’t really matter.