If you think you're doing it wrong, you're doing it right

On playing when the live commentary is full of cringe and doubt

Frog Blossoms by Song Kang

Dear reader,

This June, I attended a poetry and meditation workshop led by Brooke McNamara. Brooke is incredible. She would read stunning poems and talk about meditation with a rare simplicity. I would feel wildly inspired. Until it was time to actually write a poem, or to meditate.

My inner critic cleared its throat as soon as the Zoom room fell silent.

“Can’t even meditate in a meditation workshop, such a waste”

“You’re cheating! You’re thinking about Pav Bhaji. That’s not mediation!”

“You call this a poem..?”

“YOU ARE DOING THIS WRONG!”

My chest was heavy, my nostrils flared, my forehead was scrunched.

Somehow, I didn’t give up. I continued to scribble and breathe. So what if I am doing it wrong? What if doing it wrong is a part of doing it right? What if it is not supposed to feel buttery to write a poem and flowery to meditate?

“What if THIS is what it means to be human today?,” Brooke suggested as she spoke about accepting every experience of meditation.

I kept going.

Every session, I surrendered a bit more to the process, tuning out the cynical commentary of the mind, and the physical sensations of cringe¹. Faith carried me to the other side of a poem or meditation, even if was a nonsense draft or a failed mediation. After the session was over, a little meaning would quietly emerge from the words. The meditation that felt like chaos in my mind calmed me down by a notch.

It felt like a worm’s awkward, forward movement. Humans have invented a way to fly around the world. Yet we have to crawl, wriggle, and tumble our way through real creative or psychological work.

Something had shifted in me. While facilitating a doodling activity at the Ochre Sky Memoir Workshop, I uttered, “If you think you’re doing it wrong you’re doing it right.” I was surprised. I am not used to saying things so clearly.

Most of my teaching experiences at schools were about letting my cringe exist. My sweet lesson plans would get demolished daily, due to tech glitches or some new dynamic amongst the students. I became better and better at continuing the class even when my mind had declared it as “the worst class ever”. Once it ended, I would say to myself, “That wasn’t as awful as I thought!” Some of my best classes happened that way. Plus, no matter how strange it gets, a teacher doesn’t abandon the class.

I wish I showed the same responsibility to my writing. I wish I didn’t abandon my misbehaving sentences. I scold my drafts. Too bland, too complicated, too this, too that. I give up and head towards YouTube. While watching videos or reels, I never have doubts.

Consuming is so easy. Everything else is hard.

I saw myself cringe a lot. While drawing, painting, resuming yoga. Seeing old Canva posts, making notes, looking at the mirror on a tired day. We are used to seeing everything being polished, cling wrapped, and in 1080p. Anything slightly raw makes us uneasy. We want to make it perfect or avoid it altogether. I am sick of these two options.

Landcorals by Song Kang

So, I started telling myself: I’m allowed to hesitate while I write. I am allowed to hesitate when I create something out of nothing — birthing it through the canal of cringe and doubt. I might not be able to love every draft but I love the process of expressing myself.

And and and - how can I feel impressed - if I’ve just expressed - what has been long suppressed?

I have to reach into my dark insides to find something worth saying and emerge again into the bright light. No wonder, I feel like closing my eyes.

I can keep them shut until someone like you retrieves my writing from its rough edges and appreciates its existence. Then I see it from your kind eyes, and I’m amazed! And isn’t amazement the exact opposite of cringe?

Next time you feel cringe, douse it with compassion. Set it ablaze with curious, creative action. If you don’t end up with something warm and lustrous, let me know.

Yours creatively,

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Only a few seats are left in the September cohort of the upcoming Ochre Sky Memoir Workshop! Let’s find amazement together.

1. CRINGE - According to Cambridge dictionary, to cringe means to feel very embarrassed, and often show this by a physical movement or expression. I am grateful to Amie McNee for reframing cringe.