Failure and Philosophy

To Rise and Fall... and Rise again

This is a two-part series. 
The second part will be available on Wednesday.

Everyone talks about success.
So I’ll talk about failures.

Reflecting on my life, I’ve learned much more from my failures than my successes. There’s even a paradox: some of my successes have been the source of my failures. 

When you’ve overcome your impostor syndrome and succeeded. Hubris takes the place of self-doubt. Much more insidious, when it’s fed by the arrogance of victory, punishment is never far away.

From my failures, I’ve learned a few lessons.

• The need for humility
  Leaving Earth is the best way to get lost in space

• There’s a fine line between success and failure

In my life, I’ve tried to become a lot of things. 
Life’s too short not to try, isn’t it? 

How many times have I tried to become a writer? A lot. Each time: a failure. Except this last year. The funny thing is that I almost gave up. 

What if I’d given up? It would have been another failure on a long list of trials. And like a script, in a few years I would have tried again. Because that’s what I always do: try.

The line between success and failure may be a matter of perseverance or luck. Perseverance, because you have to know how to get back up again. Luck, because some events are beyond your control.

In another life, I experienced several failures. 
There are small failures, easy to manage. 
And then there are the real failures. 
The ones that take everything away from you.
Failures so brutal that they shatter your identity. 
They redefine who you are. 
They question your path. 

They knock you out. You’re in the middle of the ring. The referee counts. You don’t know if you want to get back up. You don’t know if you can get up. You don’t even have a trainer to throw in the towel for you. 

The referee keeps counting: but does it matter? To get up would mean going in the same direction again. “But I’m exhausted”. Maybe it’s time to give up. 

These are the kinds of failures I want to talk about today.
Those failures that have the power to change a destiny.

These failures are experienced in several phases, like mourning.

The first phrase: Darkness
You keep replaying the game.
You keep asking yourself: 
“How could I have been so stupid?
“Where did it all go wrong?”
Full of regret.
Bitter about the choices. 
Bitter about how life turned out. 
Bitter about the time invested.
Bitter about all that time lost forever. 
Bitter about everything. 
The sacrifices made did not pay off.
Disgust reigns.
The loss seems too heavy to bear. 

Then there's shame.
The shame of having failed.
The shame of having to face the eyes of others.
We'd like to hide and never come out.
But we must continue to face the world.

This failure hurts because it shatters your identity.
There’s a dissonance between who you are, who you want to be and reality.

When I started my business.
I wanted to succeed.
I worked hard.
I didn’t count the hours. 
I went bankrupt.
I wanted to be a successful entrepreneur.
I ended up with no money. 
Reality was the exact opposite of my dream.
The new reality is brutal to accept.

In this first phase, apart from time, I don’t know what can cure it. Depending on the magnitude of the failure, that time will be more or less long.

In this phase, we often think we won’t be able to get up again. But that’s not true. Because human beings are resilient. 

The second phase may begin.
“Oh, I survived!”
Life tried to bring you down.
You’re still standing.
Nieztchean quotes begin to resonate.
“Everything that doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”
Makes sense. 
We’re not out of the doldrums.
We need change.
But in the dark, a tiny light appear.
We have something to hold on to.
And that’s all that matters.

The third phase
Evaluate the destruction.
Emotion gives way to analysis.
“If I’ve failed, there are some lessons to be learned.
Is it my fault?
Did I do something wrong? Mismanaged?”
We finally have enough distance to think with the brain and not the heart.
The list of mistakes we’ve made hits us hard.
Reality is once again brutal. 
But so much the better: mistakes can be corrected.

The fourth : The phoenix.
We’ve analyzed. 
We’ve learned from our mistakes.
We’ve tried to fix ourselves. 
We’ve identified our blind spots. 
We’re driven by an energy of vengeance.
Even anger and rage. 
We want revenge. 
The blood starts to boil.
We’re ready for another round.

We’ve proved to ourselves that we’re stronger than we thought.
We’ve had our hearts ripped out and yet.
We’re still alive. 

Once again, we catch ourselves dreaming.
“What if I try again? This time, I’ll do it!”
If you’ve tried once, you’ve already proved that you’re brave. 

How many people live their whole lives without ever having tried? 

Do you think they’re happy at night? 
I don’t know. I’m not in their head.
Maybe they are. Maybe they aren’t.
But when you see the number of people who have a midlife crisis. People who, on paper, had it all. It’s a little clue.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter much.
When you’ve got the fire.
It’s meant to be rekindled.
Always.

There must be a part of us that says to ourselves: 
“Don’t try anymore, stop hurting yourself.”
But the flame is too strong. 
Rather live and risk getting burned.

Does that make you insensitive to failure? 
No. 
No one is failure bulletproof.
Because life is unpredictable. 
How many stars have reached for the sky only to be lost in the void? 
Too many.
The key is to survive and keep trying.
To those who try, all dreams are permitted.

This e-mail is to remind you that failure is not the end.
It can be a beginning.
But it’s up to us.

See you on Wednesday for part 2.

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