Frisbee throwing caution to the wind

A few months ago, Dad taught me how to throw a Frisbee. I have a wicked sidearm. While my aim leaves a bit to be desired, the lift and distance of the toss is usually commendable. Last week, I approached Dad with the Frisbee: perplexed, frustrated, and downright mad.

Me: "I can't do it!"

Dad: "Sure you can, buddy! You're a champ at Frisbee throwing. Show me how it's done."

Me (studying the disc, flipping it over, clamping it with his left hand, then his right): "I don't know how!"

Dad: "Don't think about it so much, Ken. Remember, like this. Just pick it up and throw."

And so, I do. I hook my thumb under the disc, cock my right arm out and back, and hum-chuck this neon green Frisbee in a way that far exceeds anyone's expectations of a three-year-old and a beat-up old Frisbee. Impressive. And fun.

Since this fairly innocuous conversation, I find myself wondering how often we allow our thinking to stand in the way of ourselves. All of us have attributes that are impressive. And fun. Yet,we hold back, worry about the outcome, wonder if we'll fail. We're stuck inside of our heads - thinking about the steps it will take, wondering if we'll succeed, flirting with that ratio of risk and reward - a reward that might not even be there when it's all said and done. And so, we don't. Or we do, and we do so in a way that really isn't natural for us, and then the whole thing feels ... off. Know what I mean?

The tough conversation with a co-worker. The date with the new kid. The exercise routine.The small business idea. The updated resume. The half-written book. The dream job. We think: I could do it. I think. But what if ...?

Don't think about it so much. You're impressive. You're fun. Just pick it up and throw.
Love, Ken