Post by ashenn on Aug 12, 2005 10:04:02 GMT -5
just a little note on some thoughts i've been having lately.
my best friend, B, has been talking to a life coach lately. he posted this little speech on his LJ, and i thought the message of it was really pertinent to this board, so i wanted to share:
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'When I was young I lived on a lake. My family ran a mountain resort with a little café, fishing boats and rental cabins; we catered to tourists. This was in the sixties when people were somewhat more tolerant of tomfoolery than they are today. At least once each summer a few wise guys would, with apparent randomness of thought, get the idea that it was time to toss everyone into the lake. Only the too young and the too feeble were exempt.
Once alerted, the potential victims, in their best attempts to avoid the inevitable, would make emergency trips to the bathroom, hide in their cars or behind their couch, or find ever-so-important business to be about. My Dad was fond of putting on his suit as if he were going to the city for supplies. It didn’t matter. The instigators would find, and if necessary drag the reluctants by hand and foot to the end of the dock where they benevolently gave them the opportunity to remove watches, rings, wallets and other valuables, and with a one, two, three heave, throw them kicking and screaming into the water. Not only was the water ice cold, having been snow only a few days before, it floated stuff like dead fish and foam as thick as meringue.
There was one and only one escape, and that was to be already wet. Dry humans were the target. As a youngster I watched people transform from terrified, protesting, and angry, to relieved and frivolous once they were dunked. The threat was over, they had joined the ranks of the drenched. Often they would remain in the water, laughing with glee, assuring the next victim. There was a certain sort of kinship amongst the wet when it was all over and the fish-smelling squeaky bodies were having a beer, drying in the sun, and sorting their jewelry.
This whole scene came back to me recently when I was thrown headlong into the lake of failure in my own life. Having experienced less significant failures throughout my life and finding no redeeming qualities among them, I sought to avoid future failures at all costs. I set my life up to play not to lose. I locked myself away, hid, dressed up, tried to be busy, and performed all manner of weird body and soul contortions in an attempt avoid the experience of failure. That experience was below the line of the living. It was the place for losers, demons, and rejects.
After the devastation wore off I began to playfully, albeit tentatively explore the gift within failure. The possibilities were endless. In the embrace of failure, fear disappeared. I had been depriving myself of a lot of life by avoiding failure. Now I could jump in and experience it all.
As a culture we are addicted to winners and winning. We worship star athletes and super heroes. There is little regard for second best, for a red ribbon or a silver medal. The process of learning from failure is viewed with all the affection of the plague. We’ve forgotten that “live and learn” means just that. We don’t always get to know the right thing to do ahead of time. Why do we then tend to believe it is possible to do life without making mistakes? Failing is not equal to being a failure. Failing is the arena of winners. It is only when we give up, when we quit looking, quit trying, that we truly fail.
I once thought that having more self-confidence was the key to living with failure. It isn’t. Failing is the key to living with failure. There is one and only one escape from the fear of failure…and that is to get comfortable being in it. Once wet, soaked, drenched in the pool of failure, life opens up. There are no more pretenses. The hair is messed up, the makeup running, the nicely ironed shirt has a dead fish in the pocket. Muck fills the shoes. It isn’t glamorous, but it is inevitable. Let us fail with enough force to propel us again upward, embracing all that the gift brings.'
"It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."
T. Roosevelt
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she is a smart, smart lady. i think our image of 'winning' and staying on top is part of what fuels this desire to mutilate ourselves. thoughts?
my best friend, B, has been talking to a life coach lately. he posted this little speech on his LJ, and i thought the message of it was really pertinent to this board, so i wanted to share:
--------------------------------------------
'When I was young I lived on a lake. My family ran a mountain resort with a little café, fishing boats and rental cabins; we catered to tourists. This was in the sixties when people were somewhat more tolerant of tomfoolery than they are today. At least once each summer a few wise guys would, with apparent randomness of thought, get the idea that it was time to toss everyone into the lake. Only the too young and the too feeble were exempt.
Once alerted, the potential victims, in their best attempts to avoid the inevitable, would make emergency trips to the bathroom, hide in their cars or behind their couch, or find ever-so-important business to be about. My Dad was fond of putting on his suit as if he were going to the city for supplies. It didn’t matter. The instigators would find, and if necessary drag the reluctants by hand and foot to the end of the dock where they benevolently gave them the opportunity to remove watches, rings, wallets and other valuables, and with a one, two, three heave, throw them kicking and screaming into the water. Not only was the water ice cold, having been snow only a few days before, it floated stuff like dead fish and foam as thick as meringue.
There was one and only one escape, and that was to be already wet. Dry humans were the target. As a youngster I watched people transform from terrified, protesting, and angry, to relieved and frivolous once they were dunked. The threat was over, they had joined the ranks of the drenched. Often they would remain in the water, laughing with glee, assuring the next victim. There was a certain sort of kinship amongst the wet when it was all over and the fish-smelling squeaky bodies were having a beer, drying in the sun, and sorting their jewelry.
This whole scene came back to me recently when I was thrown headlong into the lake of failure in my own life. Having experienced less significant failures throughout my life and finding no redeeming qualities among them, I sought to avoid future failures at all costs. I set my life up to play not to lose. I locked myself away, hid, dressed up, tried to be busy, and performed all manner of weird body and soul contortions in an attempt avoid the experience of failure. That experience was below the line of the living. It was the place for losers, demons, and rejects.
After the devastation wore off I began to playfully, albeit tentatively explore the gift within failure. The possibilities were endless. In the embrace of failure, fear disappeared. I had been depriving myself of a lot of life by avoiding failure. Now I could jump in and experience it all.
As a culture we are addicted to winners and winning. We worship star athletes and super heroes. There is little regard for second best, for a red ribbon or a silver medal. The process of learning from failure is viewed with all the affection of the plague. We’ve forgotten that “live and learn” means just that. We don’t always get to know the right thing to do ahead of time. Why do we then tend to believe it is possible to do life without making mistakes? Failing is not equal to being a failure. Failing is the arena of winners. It is only when we give up, when we quit looking, quit trying, that we truly fail.
I once thought that having more self-confidence was the key to living with failure. It isn’t. Failing is the key to living with failure. There is one and only one escape from the fear of failure…and that is to get comfortable being in it. Once wet, soaked, drenched in the pool of failure, life opens up. There are no more pretenses. The hair is messed up, the makeup running, the nicely ironed shirt has a dead fish in the pocket. Muck fills the shoes. It isn’t glamorous, but it is inevitable. Let us fail with enough force to propel us again upward, embracing all that the gift brings.'
"It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."
T. Roosevelt
---------------------------------------
she is a smart, smart lady. i think our image of 'winning' and staying on top is part of what fuels this desire to mutilate ourselves. thoughts?