Mistakes. We all make them. Kind of like death and taxes, you can count on making mistakes until the end of your time on this planet. A gaffe made at a dinner party. An error in calculations. A near miss driving down the road.
Tonight I found myself staring another mistake in the eye. I decided rather than trying to run and hide, which never works—the mistake always finds me, no matter how long it counts while I hide—I would stare into the eye of the beast until it backed down. I figured it was It or me. And I had to live with myself. The mistake was free to go.
So I stared. “Hmmm. This is what making a mistake feels like?” I mentally squirmed. “Yeah, it feels downright uncomfortable. Darn, I wish I hadn’t made that mistake.” “But,” a small voice in Piglet style piped up, “It is an opportunity to not run. To sit with the discomfort. And be OK.” And so I mentally sat. And stared. And sat. And then turned to words as an outlet. Mistakes. Bah! Hopefully, I’ll remember to stare down the next one. And win the staring contest faster.
I’m still staring…the eyes of the mistake are watering.
