I went to a Hari Krishna event in Galway recently. It was an eye opener. I didn't know anything about their beliefs, and it was fun to listen to their idea of God and the universe and what's real and what's imaginary. I say fun, but that's only because I am too shy to say what was really going through my head ;)



But this post is not about Hari Krishnas. It's actually about what I learned from from their chanting.

At the beginning of the event, it went on for a solid 30 minutes, the same refrain, over and over, as chants tend to be... and after taking in as much of the atmosphere as I could, examining the people on stage dancing, and the trickle of audience coming in, it did get a little on the boring side.

We were later informed that the large expanse of space between our rows of plastic seating and the huge stage was deliberately set up for us audience members to join in with the dancing. The penny dropped.

So once all of the presentations and teachings were done with, the musicians and the incense were hauled out again, and this time, a few people wandered down to move with the music.

It did feel like a cross between a Father Ted disco with that same tune being battered out, and a school disco where the boys are at one side of the room and the girls on the other, only it was all of us in the audience watching a few random people dance.

As time went on, more and more people got up the courage to go and join in, so that about 20% of the audience were now on the dancefloor, while the rest of us watched like lemmings.

I was one of the ones sitting there, deciding. It was not a hard decision, but I couldn't make it. I couldn't decide what to do with my bag, with my jacket. Suggesting we go and dance in a half serious tone, the person I was with had no desire to, and so it was up to me to make a decision about me, for me.

The lead singer was phenomenal, quite creative as he managed to make every repetition sound a little different; in each refrain he exerted varying levels of enthusiasm and energy, and it seemed as though he was bringing the melody to the final climax, the drums alongside banging it out, on each repetition.

The song keep continuing, but it sounded as though each refrain was the last, only it wasn't. I think that's what confused me. Even though experience had taught me that this could go on for 30 minutes, it kept sounding like they were finishing up. But they weren't.

So I couldn't do it. I couldn't go down. I felt as though I would get to the dancefloor, and just that second, the song would end. I couldn't get the vision of me being the idiot who had come down too late out of my head. As no one else went down to join them, I felt the whole audience was sitting in this same idea, stuck in collective paralysis, of "I don't want to join in just as it is over".

We walked out eventually, left the event with the melody still ringing out behind us, and I hated myself for not being able to dance.

It is a mini metaphor for my life. I'm all broken just because some idiot decided he could predict when the song was ending. He told me there were only 2 minutes left and I believed him. I decided that it wasn't long enough for me to go down and dance, that it was not worth it for me to get ready, to explain, to leave my bag, to change out of my coat, and get immersed in the music. So instead, I watched, waiting for it to be over so I could do the next activity. Heaven or whatnot.

But the musicians decided to play a little longer, and now it's been way more than 2 minutes, it's been 4 and counting, and they haven't stopped, and I am still sitting here... waiting, regretting that I didn't go down for those 4 minutes, which would have been plenty to get immersed and have fun, but now, now it's too late, because it seems like they will only play for 2 more minutes...!

And so it goes, rolling around in my brain, the same thought, repeating, of 2 minutes left - not enough time... so I am still watching and waiting!!! Arghh!! What did I listen to that guy? Why did I let him tell me when the music was ending when he wasn't even part of the band! He was just telling me based on what had happened at other events, with other musicians, but never at this event, with these musicians!

I see everything like this, and I wonder do other people too. I live in this never never land where it's too late to become an expert in anything because Malcolm Gladwell says you need 10,000 hours which is waaay too many to start something new at this age. I feel I'll never catch up, I'll always be behind the wave.

How do you know if what you want to get involved in will still be an opportunity when you get there? Will iPhones still be popular by the time you get around to being skilled at creating software for them? Will people still be using twitter by the time you learn how to master it? Will people still be reading blogs by the time you get good enough at dragging and maintaining their attention? Will Google still be using the same search engine methods by the time you have learned enough and worked enough to optimise your webpage? Will things keep moving so fast that by the time you get there and get good at it, you will have missed the boat?

I can't keep watching, trying to predict from the sidelines when the musician is going to end his refrain. And I cannot always be the early adopter, the first up to dance on the dance floor (although if it's house music in a foreign country, I'm there).

So I decided that the next time I catch myself sitting in a blue plastic chair, watching people do something that looks like fun, but will take effort to learn and enjoy, I will block my ears to that voice who predicts "only 2 minutes left", take off my damn jacket, leave my bag with my friend, and go down and join in. At least if the music does stop as I get there, there will be a split second of pleasure as I turn around to look at the audience, to know that I am one of the 20% who got up to dance, who (to use that overused phrase) felt the fear, said f*ck it, and did it anyway.