It only hurts when I breathe/ It only hurts when I try/ It only hurts when I think/ It only hurts when I cry

The other day Drew and I were talking about how flying trapeze inspires intense emotions among people and speculating as to why that is. Take me for instance: I sometimes may get frustrated by a static trapeze class, but it never leaves me devastated the way that flying trapeze can, and it never brings the same amazing highs. Why oh why is this?

We never found a really satisfactory answer. Some is just that it's already such a charged experience for me because of the fear factor; some is that you just get few turns and one mistake can waste a whole turn; some is just that trapeze is magical and unique, I guess. I do think that some is also that trapeze invites comparison, since there are levels and privileges and objective facts (you caught or you didn't; you're ready to remount or you're stuck on roll-ups for another week, etc.).

That said, there are great things about having a hobby at which you are terrible, a fact that I remind myself pretty regularly. Here are some of them:

• If you stick it out, you know for sure that you truly love it and that you aren't just doing it to achieve something; because you're really not achieving, as it were.
• There is something luxurious about doing something at which you are bad; it's the ultimate self-indulgence.
• This one may sound a bit arrogant, so I apologize, but if you are like me and a bit type A, good at the things that the world asks you to be good at (standardized tests and academics and getting people in authority to like you and interviewing and "leadership"), then being bad at stuff and struggling with things helps with your empathy. When much comes easily, it's good to struggle.
• It forces you to genuinely focus on process rather than product, which is an important skill to apply to many areas of life.
• You never have to agonize about wanting to quit your day job for your hobby, because you know it would never make sense.
• You can make other people feel better about their skills and abilities comparatively speaking (yes, I'm still working on my shooting star, but hah, at least my take-off isn't as bad as hers).

Basically, even though I feel hyper aware of product and destination sometimes with flying, the more I can focus on process and journey the happier I am and perhaps not surprisingly the better my flying is. (Side note: this is an interesting contrast to my immediately prior hobby, hip hop; with hip hop I just got really good without trying or noticing at first till the instructor told me that I was really good; in fact, my hip hop journey is perhaps completely encapsulated in that description, in being so caught up in my own world of being me to not notice the effect I was having on my surroundings, which is something that happens to me not infrequently).