A brush with cancer reignited my love of that neglected little word: yes

Does Felicity Monk want to learn surfing and pottery and take potentially ridiculous dance classes? Yes, absolutely, she does.

Picture this, would you? An airy dance studio, a wall of mirrors, Lizzo’s song Good as Hell blasting and a lanky 44-year-old (me) with a dicky lower back lurching around the room attempting to follow snappy choreography by a very patient dance teacher.

I danced jazz ballet for many years as a kid, but this is a very different sort of dancing. This is fast-paced, bouncy, little bit sexy – the kind you see in music videos. Actually, do those still exist? Maybe the kind of dancing you see in TikTok videos. The type of dancing that favours lithe, flexible spines, not middle-aged spines harbouring a perpetually tight thoracic and a hostile relationship between L5 and S1. Anyway. There I am, in my gardening pants, counting the beat out loud and barely keeping up, grapevining my way to joyousness.

As I write I'm on the cusp of turning 45 – irrevocably, inarguably, undeniably another year deeper toward the beating heart of middle life. Actress Anne Hathaway recently said in a New York Times’ interview that she doesn’t like to use the term "‘middle-aged" – but it wasn’t for the reasons I thought. She said: ”Forty feels like a gift. The fact of the matter is I hesitate at calling things ‘middle age’ simply because I can be a semantic stickler and I could get hit by a car later today. We don’t know if this is middle age. We don’t know anything."

It's a good point, none of us know when our life's middle is, or will be. In any case, regardless of whether I’m in the middle or not, I know I have well and truly crested the hill of youth and am sashaying my way down the other side.

I surprise myself. When I was younger, and would imagine myself at this age (so old!), it was a different version of me entirely. One who wore orthopedically supportive footwear, had a sensible haircut and made soufflés. But, it turns out, by and large, I’m the same me, I just sigh more when I bend over.

Something I’ve noticed as I look around at folks a little ahead of me in years is that, for some, as they age they begin to shrink their worlds. They no longer tolerate things that are uncomfortable, or a bit hard, or might make them look foolish. They say no to new things and they keep saying no until their world contains only the things that are known to them, that feel safe and comfortable. Until they are left with a small, closed fist of a life.

Of course, there are many reasons why they might be saying no; the deep, world-weary exhaustion that can accompany child-raising, caring for aging parents, holding down multiple jobs, grinding poverty, ill-health; physical, mental and spiritual. And, quite honestly, just being alive in 2024 takes a lot of work.

A couple of years ago, and on the other side of a cancer diagnosis, I decided I would be vigilant for signs of my world shrinking, and intentional in its expansion. I would work to stay out of my comfort zone, or even just on the edge of it. I’d learn new things, I would keep saying yes. Which is how I found myself taking bouncy dance classes. I also joined a surf school, signed up to pottery lessons and enrolled in the excellent and fee-free He Papa Tikanga, run by Te Wānanga o Aotearoa to learn basics of te reo and Māori belief systems. Currently, I am attempting to learn to play the guitar by watching pre-recorded online tutorials taught by a very nice man called Justin. He’s very nice because he is warm and encouraging, and also because so far it’s all been free. Thanks to Justin I can now play – badly and at a glacial pace – the White Stripes’ Seven Nation Army. Do I feel cool? Yes, yes I do.

I’m also attempting to write a novel.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking this sounds suspiciously like a mid-life crisis (and I haven’t even mentioned the tattoos) but I am not in crisis. In fact I am bursting with life. And there are still so many things I want to do; tap dancing, life drawing and all of New Zealand’s Great Walks.

Here are some things I’ve found helpful when it comes to saying yes.

That's how you create the space for new things. While not everything I’ve said yes to costs money, it all costs time. My life is too busy with family and work to maintain all these activities simultaneously, but much like a child who’s figuring out what they’re into, I’ll try something for a while, before stopping so I have time to try something else. And while I’m going to fall dramatically short of Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hours of practice rule (in order to achieve true expertise), I’m learning to be cool with my own mediocrity.

The thing I found hardest wasn't learning new skills, like being able to centre a blob of pottery on a wheel or follow fast choreography when I still have to make an ‘L’ shape with my left hand, but rather it was feeling alright about looking ridiculous. I’m really good at it now. And when it comes to dancing, what I lack in elegance and rhythm I make up for in enthusiasm.

Then you can learn and fall and fail and laugh together. This is also an economical use of your time – hang with your friend and try something new. Two-for-one!

Am I ready to perform a dance for you? No. Did I make a bowl that you would like to display in your home? Also, no. Do you want me to play you Seven Nation Army while attempting to sing? You really don’t. But I’m not learning these things to dazzle or entertain anyone. I’m simply learning to learn. As a recovering perfectionist, I’ve had to work hard at embracing a growth mindset and failing out loud.

As my kid says: “Suck it up buttercup.” You might do it and hate it, or it could be your new favourite thing, but you won’t know till you try.

Felicity Monk is a writer based in Tāmaki Makaurau.