The Definition of Success and Failure Determines the Roads You Take
What would you do if you knew you would not fail?
I've been thinking lately a bit about our definitions of success and failure. I recall believing that the greatest success I could have in life was to be paid mad cash to simply be myself. As I type that it sounds ludicrously close to the entire influencer model and I can see how vapid and untenable such a view of success promotes.
In such reflection, I understand that I've always been attracted to the possibility of complete failure. Projects that seem doomed are the ones I gravitate toward. I'm entranced by the tales of improbable success. The issue at hand is that most improbable success stories occur on a foundation of failure.
We are more inspired by those who win after years of pursuit than by those who get it right the first time. Granted that these days, the idea of working toward a goal, failing despite the dream, getting back up and continuing to pursue that horizon is less appealing to people who have consigned themselves to see only the obstacles. Shaking angry fists at the inequities of living in a competitive ecosystem feels like actually saying something when a few million are shaking fists in synchronization.
In the wake of millions getting laid off, quitting their low wage, high stress jobs, and wondering what the fuck to do next, it's the men and women that fell down hard and got back up again to ultimately succeed that get under our skins.
So, why is it so hard to actually do that?
Well, because failure sucks. It's uncomfortable. Humiliating. Failure attacks the sensitive self esteem that has been built up with false promises of fairness and reward for participation for decades. When one fails, the most common response is find someone else to pin responsibility on so as to avoid any sense of failure. If it's my boss's, my spouse's, society's fault, then how could I be expected to succeed in the first place? If the obstacles of marginalization, discrimination, the wealthy, the strong, the thin are all so insurmountable, why even try at all?
NEWSFLASH: You will fail. More times than you succeed. If you're normal (whatever that means) or reasonable you will fail in many small ways—ways that most people won't notice.
You'll screw up a copy for your work, you'll miss the bus by 30 seconds, you'll forget to wear socks. Tiny shit that only you are really aware of. If those are the sum total of failures, then your successes will mirror them. You will succeed in getting that copy right, catching the bus or wearing socks. Not really changing your world with that list of achievements, huh?
That's because the size of your successes matches the size of your failures.
In Las Vegas, on the casino floor, the odds of winning a big jackpot is directly tied to how much you bet in the first place. The gambler who sticks to the penny slots, betting forty cents a pull on the Buffalo machine, will only ever make a few bucks. His investment is small, safe, so his reward is likewise miniscule. To win big, the slot monkey needs to drop the eight dollar and eighty cents per spin. All in, as we say in Nevada. Risk the big failure or be satisfied with the minor bump.
You wanna go out there and change worlds (or at least your own) then you need to be bold enough to fail big. To suck with gusto. To blow it big enough that you consider leaving the state in order to escape the ridicule and shame.
Only those badass enough to look like a complete fucking moron will ever rise to heights of glory. The Hail Mary Pass. The Last Ditch Effort. The Impossible Plan.
Play it safe and get safe results. Aside from seat belts, vaccines, and bike helmets, safe never really makes a dent.
And here a few choice nuggets to chew on:
Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team.
Walt Disney was fired by the editor of a newspaper because he, Disney, had “no good ideas”.
Steven Spielberg dropped out of high school in his sophomore year. He was persuaded to come back and placed in a learning disabled class. He lasted a month.
Winston Churchill failed in the 6th grade.
While I'm no Michael Jordan or Winston Churchill, I can say I've failed far more than a normal person (whatever that means) should. My failures are embarrassing but not 'change my name and leave town to hide in a cave in the desert' huge. The law of averages tells us that the vast majority of people in the world will generate modest successes from moderate risks.
Disney and Spielberg are not moderate or modest in their risks or rewards.
So, what would you do if you knew you would not fail? Hell, anything, right? It's a pointless question, really. The better question (at least in terms of the soul search stare in the mirror and check out the flaws sort of way) is:
What's truly worth doing, whether you fail or succeed?
In order to risk big I always have to assume I won't fail but be ready to fall flat on my ass. That requires a level of optimism about the world less and less available these days. It necessitates a fundamental belief that my failures are mine and mine alone with no one or nothing to blame for them. Most crucial, it is requisite to reframe the definition of success on a personal level without the need of comparison to the success of others.
Lately my big risks involve change. Leave Chicago for Vegas without a plan. Take a job in a casino because why not? Leave that job to throw my lot into that of a professional (as in get paid for it) writer. Look at my resume and you either see a person with a lot of life experience, a person too mercurial to stay in one place for too long, or a guy who simply couldn't keep a job for longer than a decade.
As I've grown older and traveled more roads on the highway, my needs have become less needy and my ability to sustain my own life while maybe improving the lives of perhaps three other people is a fine measure of success. That ridiculous optimism that is hard-baked into me and holding onto that is the best success I can claim. At this point, if I'm lucky and genetics are on my side, I'm about halfway through the journey. Hell, I could die tomorrow but I believe I'll live to 110. In order to continue risking even moderately, I have to assume I'm completing the 50th chapter of a 100 chapter novel.
Whether I succeed or not, without regard to failure, has more do with the creation of words into sentences, stories from experiences, and making sure I go with that sage advice from Red in The Shawshank Redemption: "Get busy living or get busy dying."
What's truly worth doing for you whether fail or succeed?
