Sometimes, I feel as though I don't take on enough risks. Not life-risking endeavors like jumping off a cliff or wandering through a bad part of Oakland at night, but more like mental and emotional risk. I've realized that many of the skills or activities I've struggled with involve some degree of that type of mental or emotional risk. For example, I've always wanted (and have made many attempts) to learn how to improvise songs on the piano. Improvising is basically a series of small risks, one after another. Each time you play a new phrase that strikes you, there are two possible outcomes: it will sound good and you can keep building on the theme, or it will sound unpleasant and you will have to quickly think of a different route to take. The uncertainty of improvisation makes it a difficult skill to learn for risk-averse people, who may prefer the safety of sheet music, where each note is laid out with great certainty. In fact, the hardest part of improvisation for me is not coming up with a musical idea, but having the courage to play it and hear what it actually sounds like.
Now that I think of it, all creative endeavors involve some sort of risk. When you come up with a creative idea, you are essentially putting yourself out there, rocking the boat, and challenging the status quo. You risk the fact that your idea may be criticized, rejected, or ridiculed by others. You also risk the fact that your idea may not turn out to be as great as you had hoped. I've realized that often, a bit of risk-taking is required to move forward. Perhaps, instead of always taking the straightest path with the highest level of visibility, I should steer slightly off course into a windier path where you can't always see exactly what's beyond each turn. Who knows, maybe I'll find something pleasantly surprising.
