I am not very good at not being good at a thing.

Do you know what I mean?

Like, I know we all have to start somewhere, learning something new.  But I would rather learn and be rubbish in the privacy of my own home, only sharing learning with others when I am good at it, or at least not going to make a dick of myself or say something stupid.

Normally if I’m not good at something then no one else sees. I’m sure this says a lot about my dark and twisted psyche, but I am really good at pretending I don’t give a shite about that kinda stuff so we’re fine.

I’ve been training to facilitate a women’s meditation circle. It’s not easy. Not the actual leading the meditation although that’s not easy either, but doing the actual training, because I am not very good at it.

And the things I am not good at are hard, like being kind with myself, being open-hearted, being vulnerable.

Others on the course are way better than me, many of them are experienced practitioners in their own right, having profound feelings and being all wise.  I feel like I am stumbling along blind. It’s not an entirely comfortable experience.

I’d wanted to do this course for years but put it off for another day, when I had read more, or learnt more or was more centred and wise. I have not felt centred for a while. Then all in a rush and with two days to go until the deadline I filled out the forms and got a place. I should have been thrilled. Mostly I felt sick.

The course was a joy, the leaders are warm and compassionate.

I felt like a fraud.

Everyone else has something wise and inspirational to share, all I could think was that my heart felt heavy, and I felt disconnected and unexpectedly cross at the whole venture.

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe this was something I’d wanted to do in my other life. I don’t mean reincarnation, but you do you if that’s your thing. No, I mean in my other life, when I wasn’t sick, or when I was young, less broken, less jaded, less bloody tired.

Like others I struggle with how to do this, this connecting with the heart, this accepting myself as I am, this simply being, learning, making mistakes, asking stupid questions. I feel anxious and my heart hurts.

And then,

I breathe.

All I have to do is breathe. All we have to do is breathe.

It is hard learning something new, hard feeling foolish and out of our depth but really all we have to do is breathe.

I begin to settle. I begin to breathe into not knowing, not being good at it, not being perfect.

It seems I have been breathing wrong all these years, but that’s another conversation, I try to ignore that.

I try to breathe.

Simply in and out.

My mind whirrs, what with the breathing the wrong way.  My head feels like a snow globe shaken up and down, all my thoughts whirring in the air,

‘Is that candle safe, I don’t want to set the bed on fire.’

‘Are the neighbours going to be hoovering their grass for much longer?’

‘Did I turn my phone off?’

‘Am I breathing right?’

It goes on and on (you know I love a list)

But then,

I breathe.

And everything stills.

Thoughts settle in little piles around my feet, fluttering briefly in the breeze before settling once more.

I breathe again, getting the hang of it.

My heart softens.

I lean into it – this learning a new thing, this not being good at it, this not being perfect.

Maybe I can do this after all.

‘And you wait ‘till you see me at class next week – I’ll be fucking smashing it. I’ll get top marks, a gold star even.’

Old paths are hard not to follow.

Someone reminded me to breathe.

In and out, in and out.

I try to make sure I do it as best as I can today.

I was always a trier.

And at the end of the day the best you can do today is always good enough.

So, take a deep breath and breathe.