Drop the Act: We're Going to Fail at Lots of Stuff
I picked up the ukulele a little over a year ago and haven’t progressed much since. I had grand dreams of finally becoming my own version of Liz Phair or Fiona Apple, and I thought the ukulele was my way to indie angst fame.
I can strum a few tunes and know all the basic chords, but I still can’t figure out how to get my teeny fingers to span the length of more than two bars without visibly wincing. I can’t nail down all the fancy strum patterns. And I definitely can’t use the full range of my voice while keeping time, changing chords, and remembering lyrics.
This is a long-winded way of saying I’m not terribly good at playing the ukulele, even after a year of diligent practice and focused interest. It’s unlikely I’ll win a Grammy for spirited folk covers anytime soon.
I’m not very good and that’s okay. It’s okay because I’m teaching myself having worth and being passionate about something don’t correlate with excelling at a new skill set or being the best at whatever I set out to learn. There’s beauty, triumph, worth, joy, and adventure in the acts of learning, doing, being. It’s enough to try. It’s enough to be curious. It’s enough to want to learn. Let’s dig into this.
We’ve all been in situations where our passion outweighs our ability to perform. Serving a mediocre meal we spent hours preparing, dancing just a little off-beat to our favorite Selena hit, belting intense pop songs at karaoke with the confidence of Cher, only to realize half of my rendition of “Believe” was flat… It’s a little bit of a bummer.
But I want to question and explore why being average, or even less than, at certain hobbies or skill sets leaves us feeling guilty, ashamed, or inadequate instead of proud for being vulnerable, excited for trying new things, or loving to ourselves for giving it a shot.
We live in an unprecedented era where one can literally become a millionaire by posting videos of themselves applying makeup, discussing pop culture drama, or going down the rabbit hole of conspiracy theories (and I love all of those things for different reasons, so please don’t hear me judging those endeavors).
Instagram influencers are making the same kind of dough as award-winning actors, tech investors, and politicians. And I’m not saying work doesn’t go into those videos. I don’t mean they don’t have legitimate jobs or got lucky (though I am skeptical of millionaires who don’t redistribute the wealth, but that’s another blog post entirely).
I’m inundated with drop dead gorgeous strangers selling me skinny teas, crystal-infused beauty sponges, and appetite suppressant lollipops on a minute-by-minute basis. I play this incessant game of “how much worse can you feel about yourself” when opening and closing social media apps. There’s no escaping other people being exceptionally talented at one of my own interests and, more often than not, those folks are capitalizing off those talents in major ways.
And, look, this can swiftly veer into a conversation about “participation trophies” and our collective need to broadcast our daily ambitions for validation (sort of like creating a curated monthly newsletter for one’s blog posts, favorite articles, etc. to share with the world), but I’m not going there. I’m not judging people for thriving. I’m not judging people for profiting from their passions. Surviving capitalism is EXHAUSTING. If you’ve found something to lessen that load, I’m happy for you. Truly.
I’m teaching myself to say “good for them” instead of “but why not me?” If one’s mission in life is to find ways to capitalize off every hobby, I will recognize that is their prerogative, and I don’t have to follow suit (cue Britney Spears). I’m teaching myself to embrace adequacy in some things because this can’t all be about the final product. I’m much more than the things I’ve completed - I’m the embodiment of the things I’ve tried to do.
I’m nearly a photographer, a sort of singer, a sometimes poet, a lazy cinephile, a digital art drop out, and a resume filled with “almost,” “every once in awhile,” and “if I’m in the mood.” I’m relinquishing the incessant badgering in my brain telling me to master the craft or let it go. I will sit, happily, with my cheap ukulele and play the same three songs, creating bulging calluses on my fingers, for the sake of my ears only.
There’s a dangerous mindset, particularly between women and femmes, that we’re all each other’s competition. We’re constantly comparing and competing, as if recognizing the gifts in others and praising the gifts in oneself are mutually exclusive acts. I refuse to play into that warped and violent thought process. I see your work and respect it as I cultivate my own path.
But I still don’t understand why mediocrity is so undesirable. Why are we pushing ourselves and others to be the best at everything? It takes a serious sense of self-awareness to realize I’m not particularly good at something and continue to do it. That’s admirable. It takes humility to recognize there will be no capital gain, clout, or book deal from one’s hobby and continue to practice. Let’s center the act of doing around curiosity and wonder, not obligation or profit.
My plea to you is this: if you happen to find yourself in a similar situation as me with ukuleles (and, let’s assume, all other string instruments); if you pursue a new talent, hobby, or skill and realize, to your dismay, you’re not naturally gifted; if you begin to bury yourself in disappointment and doubt because the fantasy of making a livable wage off selling kitschy holiday wreaths is slipping away - hear me loudly. Triumph is in the pursuit. Humility is in the pursuit. Purpose is in the pursuit. The act of learning is enough to show at the end of your day and get you through the next one.
Bethany Swoveland is a poet and digital artist in Texas. She’s available for freelance work and can be reached at bethanyswoveland@gmail.com. Sign up for Bethany’s monthly email newsletter here.