Perform

Many years ago, I was reading a book about Cold War submarine history.  I assume most people have heard of the USS Nautilus, the first nuclear-powered submarine, also setting many records for undersea travel.  Also prominent in popular culture, of course, is Clancy's Hunt for Red October, a story of intrigue and sneaky-ness and "thingsh that do not react well to bulletsh".  All that's well and great and makes for good drama, but doesn't talk about the day-to-day grind of cat and mouse that the Soviets and Americans played.

It wasn't always a fair game, though.  The Nautilus was the first nuke sub in the world, able to travel submerged for long distances and exhibiting technology that far outstripped the Soviets at the time.  Even as the US and the Russians invented and incorporated technological improvements, the Soviets were behind for a long time.  (at least, the way my book read.)  One of the chief figures of merit of a submarine is its sound output - the closer to silent it operates, the easier it can evade detection.  Many improvements to subs are to make them quieter. 

In true Cold War political tradition, the Soviets felt the need to show opposition to America's supremacy undersea even though their submarines were quite inferior.  Some may even have still been diesel-powered (an outdated and poorer technology), but all were substantially louder than their adversaries.

The passage that always stuck with me from the book described this situation and the determination shown therein:

"Knowing they were inferior, the Soviets patrolled anyway.  Clanking and clunking past the American boats, they doggedly continued on towards the US coast." 

[Memory may have edited the words slightly for me.]

Hold on to that idea of "continuing anyway."

A couple weeks ago, I was at a local swing dance venue for some "social dancing", also known as "dancing outside the highly structured environment of the team practice."  It was enjoyable and enlightening, but also challenging.  In between dances, I was watching the other dancers, comparing myself to them and also to my own perceptions of past self.  (I know, shades of the "ladder system" that I've forsaken.)  I am noticeably better than I used to be, although I'd hope so after 4 months of weekly lessons.  I'm even better than a few of the other "regular customers", which boosted my confidence.  As always, though, there were several leads that were far and away better than my current state.  I'm used to that.  What I'm not used to, though, was the mixed feelings of accomplishment and disappointment.  Why disappointed? 

For a project a couple months ago, I put a big paper on the wall and listed out all the swing moves I knew, those I'd been exposed to and needed to practice, and those I had yet to learn.  As I learn more, moves get transferred from "Learn" to "Practice" then to "Known".  When I got home from the social dance, I looked at the "Known" list and realized that I'd led maybe half of it.  These aren't risky moves or "maybe if I'm feeling good" stuff, these are simple bread-and-butter lindy hop and charleston steps.  Why didn't I lead more of it?  Was I too nervous, too distracted, just too stupid?  I have no idea.  At least I found the root of my disappointment.

I was discussing this phenomenon with a more experienced dance team member and was complaining that I didn't "get it" and I didn't understand why I couldn't lead up to my ability level.  He responded, "No, you don't get it and you won't get it.  You didn't do your best.  You'll probably never lead to your max ability.  But you do it anyway and you try.  Maybe pick two moves that you make sure to lead every dance for one night."   You do it anyway and try your best.  Hang on to that too.  (sounds familiar, doesn't it?)

Tonight, I perform with DSP for the first time.  I'm a bit nervous, not gonna lie, but I'm going to do it anyway.  A couple weeks ago, we took turns critiquing every couple's rendition of the routine.  One of my critiques was to emphasize "performance qualities, even in interesting parts" which means "look like you know what you're doing and that it's easy, even if it's not".  The routine has to be "sold" and I'm the one who has to do the selling.  Although I'm pretty solid on the routine, I know there are subtleties and flourishes that I won't get.  However, I have to constantly maintain the "happy carefree face" and pretend it's all according to plan.

It's like Pastor Jay used to say - it's easier to act your way into feeling than to feel your way into acting.  I'll act like I may or may not feel because the converse will not be acceptable. 

So I will walk onto stage and stand, ready for the routine, shoulders back, left hand held high with my partners', shoulders back.  And I smile because I know I own this.  And sure enough, I will.  My part of the routine may show rough spots and bad footwork and lack of stylization, but gosh darn it, I will own it and pretend that I am rocking it, even if I don't.

Continue anyway.  Do it anyway and try your best.  In that, the pretend will become real.

Actualization is the power of determination.