“Expectations lead to tension, “ said Susan McCulley, my dance instructor. Then she told us to look at ourselves in the mirrored wall. She asked, “Does what you see meet your expectations?”
Nope. Not so much.
I was expecting to appear a little taller. I stood near the front of the room and looked at the reflections of my classmates. Clearly, they all towered over me.
In addition, when I dance, I picture myself as a svelte, sophisticated ballerina. You know, someone who’d be twirling next to Mikhail Baryshnikov. However, in my lime green shirt and baggy blue yoga pants, I looked more like a munchkin from the Land of Oz.
As the class stared into the mirror, many people grimaced. Some smoothed wayward strands of hair; others tucked in shirts, tugged on sweat pants. Adjusting and re-adjusting, we all were trying to coincide our internal ideal with the indisputable reality before us. We felt the tension Susan had predicted.
If expectations produce tension, that tension can paralyze us. Take painting, for example. I like to paint portraits. Sometimes my portrait looks like my intended victim and other times, not so much. Last year, I painted a portrait of a family member. I planned to surprise her with the picture as a gift when she visited next. Another relative (who will remain nameless) didn’t know about my surprise. He took one look at the painting and he suggested I hide it before she arrived!
So, I hid it.
Then about a month ago, I decided to start a new portrait. I sketched my idea on the canvas, put the canvas on an easel and there it’s sat for a month. I’m afraid to pick up a paintbrush. I want the painting to be perfect and I expect it to start out that way. No mistakes, thank you very much.
Do your unrealistic expectations make your life miserable? If so, I’ve discovered the perfect antidote. Take an improv class. I just finished a yearlong set of classes given by Joel Jones at The Big Blue Door and am now I’m part of a troupe called The Lady Pills.
Improv is terrifying, in a good way. You have to leave your expectations at the door, throw yourself into the moment, say yes to whichever prompt your audience suggests and then cooperate with whatever your partners dream up on stage. You have to think on your feet, no analysis, no judgment, no nothing but leaping into the present where you hope you will fly heavenward but know that you may just as easily fall flat on your face.
But, here’s what I love about improv—I get to be a child again, playing with my imagination and entertaining all possibilities. I get to journey through my mind, as rambling and chaotic as it might be.
Another benefit of letting go of expectations is that you make room for gratitude—being grateful for what you discover in the moment. The other day, I was blowing bubbles with my two-year-old grandchild. With each new set that went airborne, she screamed with delight. She kept saying, “Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles…”. She’s who I want to be.
So, happy New Year. I hope that all your expectations are met. And when some of them are not met, as likely will be the case, I hope you (and I) can find joy in the moment.
Deborah Prum is author of an audio book collection of essays, First Kiss and Other Cautionary Tales. More of Prum’s essays can be found here.
