“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” ~Theodore Roosevelt
I first heard this quote a couple of years ago when I was at a work event. I thought it was a great quote, so I immediately googled it so I could save it before I forgot who said it.
And it’s been in my saved file ever since.
Until I was watching a new documentary on Netflix by Brene Brown called The Call to Courage. If you haven’t watched it yet, I highly recommend it. *Disclaimer: There is a bit of language.*
She shared this quote by Roosevelt in the documentary, and it really hit me hard this time…
- Am I in the arena? How far am I into the arena? Am I hanging out on the sidelines or am I in the middle with all the action?
- Do I let the comments and perspectives of those who are sitting in the “cheap seats” affect me?
- Do I put in the effort to get all dusty and sweaty and bloody, or do I cut corners and take the easy way at times?
- Do I look at my shortcomings as stepping stones to achieving my goals or as failures?
- Do I dare greatly? If so, how often? It it’s only when it’s comfortable, that is NOT daring greatly.
- That last one is THE question.
So what does it mean to dare greatly? Here’s what dictionary.com says:
To me, daring greatly means…
- I have to step out of my comfort zone.
- I have to be okay with not being perfect and constantly remind myself that it’s all about progress, not perfection.
- I have to remember that when I’m trying something new, I’m a beginner.
- I need to grant myself some grace as I’m daring greatly.
- I have to be vulnerable.
- I have to be willing to get some bumps and bruises along the way.
- I have to stay focused and not get distracted by all the things
- I just have to go for it!
*Sidenote: Brene Brown has a book titled, Daring Greatly, and I finished reading it a couple of weeks ago. Now I’m going back and rereading my highlights. I really want to get it!
PC: Etsy
And I actually ordered a print of “The Man in the Arena” that I hung in a prominent place in my new, first ever home office (which I’m beyond excited about, by the way, both the print and my own home office) because I want to be reminded—several times a day—of at least two things:
- The importance of making sure I’m always daring greatly.
- The importance of not being one of those people in the cheap seats who has lots of opinions but who hasn’t been anywhere near someone else’s arena, let alone smack dab in their arena with them.
Where’s my first daring greatly arena? I was learning to watercolor over 10 years ago, and I absolutely loved it! And then a couple of new seasons of life happened, and I put my brushes and paper away. For TEN years. I’ve had all the excuses:
- I don’t have anywhere to watercolor (Watercolor painting is NOT something where you can take out your supplies, watercolor for a few minutes, and then put everything away. You really need a space where you can leave everything out).
- I don’t have time.
- I haven’t done it for so long that I’ll be a beginner. Again.
- What if I can’t remember how to watercolor?
Well…it’s time for all these excuses (and more) to go away because I have an empty corner in my new home office that I’m going to dedicate to watercolor painting. I can get everything out and leave everything out.
That excuse is gone.
And I’m a firm believer, although I don’t always do it myself, that you make time for what’s important to you. And even if I only get to watercolor for a few minutes at a time, that’s definitely progress!
Another excuse is gone.
I have two whole series of watercolor instruction on DVD (from one of my favorite watercolor artists—Terry Madden), and John hooked up a TV and DVD player in my office. And I have a couple of Terry Madden’s books too. And I know deep in my heart of hearts that everything I used to know will come back…eventually. (Sidenote: I just learned recently that Terry Madden passed away a couple of years ago, and that made me very sad. I used to love to watch his show on PBS).
Two more excuses gone.
No more excuses left.
But it’s still scary!
So I’m determined to dare greatly and just jump in, knowing that I’m a beginner. Again.
And that’s okay.
And I’m going to try my hardest to just be patient with myself during this learning-again process.
Because when there’s something your heart is continually pulling you to do, you need to just go all in and do that thing.
What’s in your next daring greatly arena? Let’s dare greatly together!
We. Got. This.
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