Laughing Over Spilled Milk
The Radical Notion of Embracing Failure If I find 10,000 ways something won't work, I haven't failed. I am not discouraged, because every wrong attempt discarded is another step forward. -- Thomas Edison You had a plan today -- or this week, this year, this lifetime. Don't deny it. I know you did. Chances are one of two things happened with this plan: It didn't exactly work out or you "made' it work out by trampling and/or ignoring people, feelings, the natural order of the universe, self-care and the like. 
Then when the outcome wasn't what you intended, you got mad (or sad, scared, confused or frustrated). Your reaction, whatever it was, indicates you judged your experience rather than just having it. Humans spend a great deal of time and energy making plans. Our innate tendency to anticipate the future is a natural throwback to a time when we had to live (or die) by our wits. Creatures that didn't know where to find food or shelter didn't last very long. There were no 24-hour grocery stores or roadside inns. Though the need for such vigilance is now obsolete, the depth of that primal behavior often plays out today in the form of neurotic control. We believe that we must accomplish whatever we have deemed important, that people should act the manner we want them to, or that things should unfold in a particular way. I speak from experience. Considering the fact that all control is an illusion (just roll with me here), this approach to living is really a fantastic little set-up for misery. If things don't go our way -- and perhaps you've noticed that often they don't -- heaven help those who we believe contributed to the interference. We assign blame, berate ourselves, pout about our rotten luck, and generally play the victim. Not to mention all that enslavement to "the plan" causes us to miss out on the joy happening right now. It's hard to delight in the moment when we're in obsessive control mode. Although misery does love company, this approach becomes a lonely business because, let's face it, you're kind of a drag! But what if rather than cursing your misfortune or resigning yourself to it, you stand up and exclaim with joy, "Woo hoo! I failed! That is awesome!" Changing our relationship to failure isn't just a matter of adjusting our attitude, no matter how determined we may be. Fear rarely goes quietly into the night simply because we want to evolve past it. Instead, regular meditation will help dissolve the unconscious, primitive wiring that no longer serves us today (a not-so-subtle pitch for a daily practice). If we have taken out the garbage, we are able to act in a new way. Once you allow yourself the freedom to blow it, your world (and your heart) can open up in ways you never imagined or experienced. Your perspective shifts from being a victim of circumstance to a co-creator of your reality. When you embrace failure, you embrace life, humanity and joy. Give it a shot right now. Think of something in the past 24 hours that you consider a failure. It can be something important, but it doesn't have to be. After you have that failure clearly in mind, congratulate yourself for it. I'm not suggesting this exercise be used to celebrate harmful consequences, ignore self-examination or excuse misdeeds. I'm talking about accepting the fact that failure is an integral part of life experience. Cheering yourself on this way may sound a bit ridiculous -- but it's really no more absurd than the assumptions that your plan should always come true and that all failure is bad. Such beliefs are genuine fiction. They keep us tied to the powerful anxiety that if we err, we face embarrassment or humiliation. As social creatures, we will do almost anything to avoid that outcome. When that concern dominates, our sight and our choices rapidly diminish. Actually, failing ain't so special. Everyone does it, so who are you trying to hide it from? Yourself? You are not a freak because your life is a big mess and you are not immune to failure amid impressive success. Every day all day long people are spilling milk left and right and they probably don't even see your puddle because they're so caught up in their own. Ironically, when you stop rejecting your failure for fear of recrimination and shame, you become a little less lonely by seeing others as you now see yourself: human, flawed and alive. Welcome to the club. | 
