Navigating the Anxiety of Execution
The Art of Setting Stretch Goals
Even with a plan in place, a new kind of anxiety often emerges: the pressure to deliver. My strategy for managing this stress is to set what's known as a stretch goal—an objective that's challenging yet achievable, pushing my boundaries without leading to overwhelm.
A stretch goal should be just out of your comfort zone, enough to spark growth and learning. For instance, you might challenge yourself to perform at an open mic night, sign up for a local TEDx talk, or host a calligraphy workshop at a community maker’s event. Each of these goals requires courage but remains within the realm of attainable.
Choosing to push our limits inevitably brings us face to face with our deepest fears, such as the anxiety of public reception and the daunting prospect of actual execution. Currently, I find myself wrestling with the decision to add a Wednesday night performance to my solo show—a notion I've been contemplating for two weeks, yet hesitating to finalize.
The fear that no one might attend looms large, coupled with the intimidating reality of stepping onto the stage alone. More profoundly, I grapple with the worry of what others will think. This fear is not merely a personal anxiety but a universal one, rooted deep within our primal instincts.
While such fears may never fully vanish, acknowledging them as inherent parts of our creative journey is crucial.
Embracing our fears as natural allows us to proceed with courage, knowing that these feelings are common among even the most seasoned performers. By accepting and understanding this aspect of our humanity, we can find the strength to take bold steps, despite the uncertainties that lie ahead.
In my journey, I've learned to seize fleeting moments of bravery. I wait for times when my guard is down, my defenses relaxed, and then—I commit. The decision to add a Wednesday night performance to my solo show was made in just such a moment.
The relief that follows is profound. It's as though my entire being recognizes this as the correct path forward, even if I can't articulate exactly why. I allow myself to be fully immersed in this sensation, soaking in the tranquility that comes from knowing I've made the right choice.
Yet, I'm also aware that this peace is temporary. Another wave of fear is inevitable as the performance approaches, presenting new challenges to overcome. This cycle of fear and relief isn't just part of the creative process—it's essential to it, driving me to continually evolve and grow.
Each step taken in courage lays the groundwork for not only my next courageous act, but also for my continual evolution as an artist, embracing the ebb and flow of fear and triumph along the way.
