The Rope Advice I Would Give Myself When I Started

The Rope Advice I Would Give Myself When I Started is a reflection on more than thirteen years of rope, learning, teaching, and performing. A look back at the lessons that shaped my practice, from curiosity and feedback to sustainability, growth, community, and the way my understanding of rope has changed over time. What I valued when I started is not always what I value now, and that change has become one of the most meaningful parts of the journey.

I Would Have Enjoyed Being New A Little More

When I started rope, everything felt important.

Every class felt like something I needed to take.

Every tie felt like something I needed to learn.

Every person seemed to know something I did not.

There was so much excitement in that stage, but also so much pressure.

Looking back, I wish I had spent more time enjoying how special it is to be completely new at something.

There is a kind of curiosity that only exists before you know what you are doing.

Before you have opinions.

Before you have preferences.

Before you have spent years refining details.

Being new is not something to rush through.

It is the only time you get to experience everything for the first time.

After more than thirteen years in rope, I still remember how much there was to absorb in the beginning.

The interesting part is that some of those early lessons mean more to me now than they did when I first learned them.

I Would Have Taken More Photos And Videos

I used to think photos and videos were mostly about capturing finished ties.

Something beautiful.

Something worth sharing.

Something I was proud of.

Now, I see them differently.

Some of my favorite things to look back on are not because the rope was technically perfect.

They are reminders of where I was.

Who I was learning with.

What I was exploring.

What mattered to me at that time.

They show progress in a way memory does not always capture.

The things I notice now are not the things I noticed then.

And I am grateful I have pieces of that journey saved.

I Would Have Paid Attention To My Body Sooner

When you first fall in love with rope, it is easy to want more.

More practice.

More classes.

More sessions.

More time in rope.

I understand that feeling.

But years of doing rope changes how you think about your body.

You start realizing that sustainability is a skill too.

Rest matters.

Recovery matters.

Building habits that allow you to keep doing this for years matters.

I do not only think about the rope I want to do today.

I think about the rope I still want to be doing decades from now.

I Would Have Thought About The Rope I Want Later

When I started, I was focused on what was next.

The next skill.

The next event.

The next thing I wanted to experience.

I was not thinking about what my relationship with rope would look like years later.

That has changed.

The longer I do rope, the more I think about longevity.

My rope has changed as my life has changed.

My priorities have shifted.

The things that bring me satisfaction have evolved.

I do not want to chase the version of myself that existed years ago.

I want a rope practice that grows with me.

Aging in rope does not mean losing something.

It means continuing to redefine what this practice means.

I want to still be curious about rope decades from now.

Not because there is always another thing to chase.

Because there is always another way to experience something I already love.

I Would Have Appreciated Simple Things Earlier

There are things in rope that seem simple when you first learn them.

The first ties.

The first patterns.

The things everyone starts with.

At the beginning, it feels natural to think those are things you move beyond.

Years later, those same things become some of the most interesting places to return.

Not because the material changed.

Because you changed.

You bring more experience back with you.

You see details you could not see before.

The same lesson can teach you something completely different at another point in your journey.

I Would Have Been Less Afraid To Ask Questions

Early on, it can feel intimidating to ask.

You wonder if everyone else already knows.

You wonder if the question is too basic.

You wonder if you should have figured it out already.

But some of the best learning happens from simple questions.

The question you almost did not ask is often the question several other people had too.

I have learned so much from students asking things I never expected.

Questions create conversation.

Conversation creates understanding.

I Would Have Asked For Feedback Earlier

It is hard to see yourself clearly while you are in the middle of doing something.

You know what you intended.

You know what it felt like.

But another perspective can show you something different.

Not every piece of feedback will change your rope.

Not every opinion needs to become yours.

But learning how to receive feedback and decide what serves your practice is valuable.

The right feedback at the right time can change the way you see something.

I Would Have Valued The People Around Me More

Some of the most meaningful parts of rope have not only come from the rope itself.

They came from people.

The partners who practiced with me.

The friends who gave feedback.

The teachers who shared their perspective.

The students who asked questions that made me think differently.

The community that created space to learn.

It is easy to remember the ties.

But so many of the important moments are connected to the people who were there.

Some of the most influential moments in my rope did not happen during big milestones.

They happened in conversations, practices, small adjustments, and moments where someone offered a perspective I had not considered.

I Would Have Accepted Change Earlier

The way I tie now is not the way I tied when I started.

And I hope the way I tie years from now is different too.

Changing your mind does not mean your earlier choices were wrong.

It means you kept learning.

Your style can change.

Your interests can change.

Your goals can change.

Your relationship with rope can change.

That is part of staying connected to something for a long time.

I Would Have Compared Myself Less

There will always be someone doing something different.

Someone learning faster.

Someone creating something you admire.

It is easy to look around and measure yourself against everyone else.

But someone else’s rope is built from their experiences, opportunities, partners, teachers, and goals.

It does not tell the full story.

The comparison that matters more is whether your current practice reflects the rope you want to create.

I Would Have Protected The Fun More

At some point, something you love can become something you take seriously.

Goals appear.

Expectations appear.

Pressure appears.

Those things are not always bad.

Growth takes effort.

But I never want to lose the part of rope that made me interested in the first place.

The curiosity.

The play.

The moments where you try something simply because you wonder what will happen.

Enjoyment is part of why people stay.

I Would Have Been Kinder To My Earlier Rope

Looking back at old rope can be strange.

You see things you would change immediately.

Choices you would not make now.

Details you cannot believe you missed.

But that person was learning.

That person was building the skills you have now.

You do not get your current understanding without every version before it.

What I Keep Coming Back To

The advice I would give myself is not about getting better faster.

It is not about skipping mistakes.

It is not about arriving sooner.

I would tell myself to pay attention.

To the people.

To the process.

To the small moments along the way.

Because years later, the things that shaped my rope the most were not always the biggest moments.

They were the ones that changed how I saw everything after.

The Little Things I Would Tell Myself

Relax your shoulders.

Drink more water.

Take more photos.

Ask the question.

Take the class.

Make the friend.

Write things down.

Rest when you need to.

Laugh when something does not work.

You do not have to learn everything today.

You do not have to become someone else’s version of good.

Tie the rope.

Untie the rope.

Try again.

Unclench your jaw.

Deep breath.

Everything is going to be okay.