Monday, October 4, 2010

Is failure really failure?

I have always had an interesting relationship with failure. When my definition of failure equaled the Webster Dictionary definition (an act or instance of failing or proving unsuccessful; lack of success; nonperformance of something due, required, or expected), it was pretty black and white in my book - failure was a bad thing and was to be avoided at all cost! Well, as one can imagine, if failure is seen as "unsuccessful" or "nonperformance",it certainly was not something I aspired to. In fact, I avoided things or quit activities I wasn't naturally good at because I didn't want to fail. If I wasn't good at something, like sports, as an example, I couldn't get past my lack of performance to enjoy the physical joy of moving my body and the fun of trying (unsuccessfully) to block my friend from passing the ball. As a result, I stopped playing sports when I was 11 even though I am always happiest when I am physically in my body. At the time, though, I saw it as self preservation, as I would berate myself when I'd mess up a play, and was truly a lousy sport. That is because I saw it as black and white - you are either successful or a failure. You either win or you lose.

I also didn't take a whole lot of risks in my life when that was my definition of failure, because risks could most certainly lead to failure. This also means that I didn't do a lot of things I secretly wanted to but publicly denounced, out of the fear that I would fail. As an example, when I was a 15, I had this huge crush on this boy, Chris. Whenever he was around me, I got these butterflies in my stomach. I would sit around and wonder what it would be like to hold his hand and to be his girlfriend. I even made this collage from cut outs from magazines that was my "shrine to Chris". So, naturally, you would think I would be thrilled when he asked me to "go steady" with him. But, actually I was really petrified. What if he didn't like me when he got to know me better? What if he wanted to kiss me and I did it "wrong"? So instead of gleefully saying yes to this boy I had a huge crush on, I said "no" because I was scared...scared of messing up and failing. Recently, Chris asked to be my friend on Facebook. He's married and has several kids and obviously he didn't hold it against me after all these years, but I'll tell you, I spent a long time that night thinking about how my life might be different if I had said "yes" to him. Not to say my life would be better or worse, whose really to know, but certainly different. And I'm sure I would have learned a good lesson a little earlier about what it was like to be in relationship with a boy. That, I'm sure, would have been useful for my growth, even if our relationship ultimately "failed". And, yes, I wish I had taken the chance to know one way or the other. Interestingly, as I look back on my life, it is the things I didn't do that I regret most, not the things I did.

This morning I read an excerpt from J.K. Rowling's commencement speech at Harvard in 2008 called "The Fringe Benefits of Failure and the Importance of Imagination". One of the things she said was “It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.” So many of us were to taught to draw inside the lines, follow the rules, get good grades, "be careful", go to a good school, work for a good company. I don't know that much about J.K. Rowling, but what I do know is that she went to Exeter and was working at Amnesty International when she started to write the Harry Potter Series. She got married, had a family, and continued to work on the books in her spare time for about ten years before she got a publishing deal. So even though she "followed the rules" she didn't give up on her passion until it came to fruition and she learned from her own experience that living cautiously held back her own success. But, alas, Life Is Perfect...if she had gotten it published early, whose to say it would have had the impact it ultimately did? But she was wise enough to learn from that experience and pass it on to the Harvard grads in the hopes that they could learn from her own experience and not live so cautiously.

These days, I live a lot more boldly, and frankly, my life is a whole lot more interesting. One of the things that I do in my Leadership courses is that I point out to people when I've failed. I do this for a variety of reasons: 1) They probably noticed so my acknowledging it builds my credibility with them 2) So that they know that great leaders often fail and 2) that great leaders aren't afraid to share their failure because 3) great leaders use every failure as a learning opportunity and 4) every failure is a teaching opportunity and 5) it gives their teams permission to fail, which is really the most important piece of all. No great innovation or world change has ever occurred without leaders who not only risked failure, but failed in some way along the way to that great innovation or change. As an example, Thomas Edison was working long and hard for years at developing what is now known as the telephone, but was beat out by Alexander Graham Bell who ultimately got credit for the invention, so he diverted his energy to inventing the incandescent light bulb. Even the light bulb took hundreds of prototypes before he got one to work successfully. I'm grateful that Edison didn't subscribe to Webster's definition of failure and used each of his failed attempts as a learning platform for the next prototype...and has transformed the lives of billions of people as a result of his work.

Since many of us will never be the inventor of some major, world changing invention, here's a story about the impact of my willingness to fail that anyone can relate to. Recently, some friends of mine had this lovely party at the beach near their house in Bodega Bay. All of us gathered on the beach to watch the sun make its slow descent downward at the end of this beautiful day. One of the 10 year olds decided to do a cartwheel for the "audience", to which we gave her a huge round of applause. Then the 6 year old got up and did a round off for us, and got a huge round of applause. Then one of my 40-something friends got up and did a perfect cartwheel, Nadia Komenich style. We all applauded wildly again, but then no one else got up, even though everyone was saying "who's next?". People were whispering "I'm not following that!" or "Oh, I was never good at gymnastics". So, in a leader moment, I got up in front of the crowd and did one of the clumsiest, imperfect cartwheels ever, and I was greeted with hoots and hollers and cheers. And you know what? Every single person at the party (oh, about 25 of us in total) got up and did a cartwheel one by one after that. By failing (but not miserably, but with a huge belly laugh that had tears rolling down my face), I gave others permission to fail, too, and to fail ecstatically! It was definitely a peak experience that will forever be a fond memory.

What I have learned is that my relationship to failure is parallel to my relationship to a joyful, full life. The more I embrace, welcome, and open myself up to the risk of failure, the more I embrace a full, exciting, joyful imperfectly perfect life. I know I'll have some good stories to tell the little ones gathered around my rocking chair when I'm old & gray (& hopefully wise). And I'm sure I'll have lots and lots of learning ahead as a result of it. Failure is only a failure if we don't learn and grow from it. And if you hold it in that framing, then life is perfect, you just don't always know it at the time!

1 comment:

  1. This is beautifully said Tara. I agree that one of the most transformational moments in life is when we truly get that true success only occurs when failure IS an option.

    When we no longer have to worry what others will think or have to be perfect or look good for others, when we can truly and authentically and consciously step forward into the mystery not knowing what the outcome will be, at that point we will be able to call ourselves human beings.

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