Tag: failure

When You Fall On Your Face

Posted in inspirationTagged , , , , , , , 78 Comments

“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.” – Confucius

This isn’t a story about me falling on my face (although I have plenty of those stories) but a recent incident when my 6-year-old son, Mr. D, fell on his. Although I’m sure I echo the sentiments of many parents when I say I’d happily take my kids’ falls for them if I could.

It happened when we were playing Little League summer ball. Ten-year-old Miss O was able to play on the team too and it was an informal sandlot team that would divide into two teams and scrimmage with whoever showed up.

There was one difference between summer ball and the first season of baseball that Mr. D played – they played outs. If someone got the ball and forced an out or tagged an out, the player would go back to the dugout.

But in this hodgepodge of rules, the teams still batted everyone in their lineup each turn at bat. The last person at bat was the “homerun hitter” meaning they and anyone else who was on base would run home.

On the last inning of a scrimmage one night in July, Mr. D was the homerun hitter. He hit the ball squarely. But by the time he’d gotten to third base and was rounding to home, the other team had gotten the ball. All the players on the other team were chasing him down the third base line. It was only about five of them but it still felt like a terrifying and mad pursuit. That’s when he fell on his face.

He was furious! His sister tried to give him a hand up and he slapped it away. So she was furious because he’d refused her help. I tried to help too but he was inconsolable. Since he was the last hitter of the last inning of the game we managed to get to the car and leave but not before everyone was well aware of our upset.

On the way home, we talked about how sports makes us want to try and how it hurts when we don’t make the play. But the tradeoff is not trying at all. Actually, Miss O and I talked about that, Mr. D said very little.

At bedtime, Mr. D went to get his journal and wrote the very first thing he’s ever written in it. He asked me, “Mom, how do you spell ‘Slide like this?’”

The next morning he told me he wouldn’t be able to go to camp because he was still thinking about the baseball thing. I responded that he’d probably think about the baseball thing all day and it would be more tolerable at camp when he was busy than at home when he was not. He finally agreed to go to camp.

When we picked up the boys we were carpooling to camp with, he said to them, “I have to tell you a baseball story. It’s not good.” I was astounded. He’s not nearly as verbose as his sister.

It was only when he told the story to them that I understood that he didn’t fall on his face – he was trying to slide. But he’d never tried it before and didn’t know that you can’t slide from halfway down the base line. Or maybe you can – but it takes a lot more practice.

So, he fell on his face. He wrote about it. He told others about it. And once he did, seemed to be over it.

Here’s my takeaway. Sometimes we try new things and it doesn’t go well. It hurts like hell but you recover more quickly when you share.

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – in our families, friendships, at work and in the world.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

Turning Distress into Action: Lessons from Failure

Posted in faithTagged , , , , , 52 Comments

“Failure is only an opportunity to begin again more intelligently.” – Henry Ford

My mom said our prayer before dinner on Monday night. One snippet resonated deeply with how I’ve been feeling when I listen to the news these days.

I don’t have her words exactly right but it was something like, “Dear Lord, helps us with the distressing current events.” Then she added something like, “Lord, we trust you are at work in the world. Please help us to see how.”

I’ve come to realize that political failure is a lot like personal and professional failure. There’s a period to grouse about it, at least for a bit. But mostly it’s an invitation to work hard to learn from it and use it as motivation for change.

I realize that when I feel in agreement with my local and national leaders, I’m not very involved in politics. But when I feel like the actions of our leaders are reckless, cruel, divisive, greedy, and/or misaligned with our values, I’m fired up to do something. Whether it’s being of service, contributing where’s there’s need, or reaching out to representatives, I’m far more willing to jump in.

I’m not a fan of failure – but I have to admit it’s a great motivator. I’d love for there to be an easy answer to my mom’s prayer but I suspect that getting involved is one component.

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on Instagram @wynneleon and LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/

I co-host a storytelling podcast featuring authors and artists with the amazing Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about creativity and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

The Do-Overs

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , , , 47 Comments

“We do not heal the past by dwelling there; we heal the past by living fully in the present.” – Marianne Williamson

Funny how life sometimes provides a do-over.

Last spring I was talking to a mom whose oldest child was a pandemic virtual Kindergartner with Miss O. At the time of the conversation, her second child was just finishing Kindergarten. The Mom said to me, “I had no idea how healing it would be to have a normal Kindergarten year.”

I nodded and noted it, knowing that I didn’t really get it.

But now that Mr. D has been in Kindergarten for almost two months, I’m finding she was spot on. The field trips, waffle parties, recess, and gym class. All sorts of things that Miss O’s class couldn’t do. And all the learning – the ABC chant, the letters and numbers – I get to hear about but without having to sit alongside.

I wouldn’t have said that I needed to heal. I was surprised to find this do-over feels like balm for my nervous system; an edit to a storyline I wasn’t even aware had been written.

It feels like I’ve put down the weight of having to be a teaching assistant on top of everything else. There’s delineation between weekdays and weekends. I’m watching things happen like the socialization of five-year-olds without my facilitation. I’m able to take a big step back and breathe out what I didn’t even know I was carrying.

It makes me think of other do-overs that I’ve been able to do. My second attempt at climbing Mt. Rainier when I summitted after having to turn around on my first attempt. Falling in love again after a heart break. Re-doing a crochet project after unraveling a crooked line.

I also can think of do-overs that haven’t been so fun – colonoscopies come to mind. But my friend’s statement reminds me that each time, for better or for worse, is a chance to re-write the script. Seems like a good thing to remember, especially on a Monday.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Failing Well

Posted in confidenceTagged , , , , , , , 56 Comments

“Take chances, make mistakes. That’s how you grow. Pain nourishes your courage. You have to fail in order to practice being brave.” – Mary Tyler Moore

Last weekend when we were in Leavenworth, WA, we went to an adventure park to ride a roller coaster. Or maybe I should say a roller-coaster-ish kind of ride because the cars were individual and the driver could apply the brakes as much as they wanted. Another clarification: by “we” I meant my kids rode with my dear friend, Doug, because I’m an endurance person, not a speed person.

Now that I have all those caveats in place, on with the story.

Eight-year-old Miss O had no hesitation and climbed right in to ride with Doug. Talking with four-year-old Mr. D about it, he was clearly torn. He didn’t want to do it. And then he did. He flip flopped a couple of times. Since I was pretty sure he’d like it, I was trying to figure out how to nudge him in the direction of trying it.

But even though Miss O didn’t hesitate on this challenge, she and I had just been having a conversation about failing when it came to learning to ride her hoverboard. She asserted that life was easier for me because I never failed. I told her I fail all the time which is why is doesn’t faze me much any more. In fact, I rarely think of it as failing but just as a step towards the next thing I need to do.

On the drive to Leavenworth, I’d been listening to the Ten Percent Happier podcast, The Science of Failing Well where Dan Harris was talking with Amy Edmonson, a professor of leadership and management at the Harvard Business School. She had three points that stuck with me about taking risks:

  • Make the risk as small as possible: This point reminded me of gambling – make a bet but don’t put all your chips in.
  • Have a hypothesis: Know what you are trying to test or prove
  • Learn from the attempt: Use the experience and hypothesis to extract information for the next thing you might try.

I think a lot about what creates confidence. What my parents did to create kids who are willing to try hard things because for all the differences between my siblings and me, we are all game to take on new challenges. So I’ve tried to figure out how I can do the same for my kids. While there’s much that remains a mystery to me, what I’ve identified is that my willingness to try and fail might be the single most defining characteristic in the arc of my life.

So, I told Mr. D he didn’t have to do it. But if he did, he only had to try one ride, Doug could go as slow as he wanted, and that I thought he’d like riding in a car on a track. When it came to his turn, Mr. D was a little nervous but resolutely game. Until I greeted him at the exit ramp, that is. He rolled back in with a huge grin on his face!

He had so much fun that he learned he wanted to do it again. And the second time he went up with his hands in the air.

Life is a roller coaster and I’m glad that I continue to ride. The metaphorical kind at least.

(featured photo is mine)

(quote is from Real Life of MSW blog: Being Brave)

The Whisper of My Failures

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , 53 Comments

“Never let your failures go to your heart or your successes go to your head.” – unknown

Last Friday, as I sat at my desk trying to will my way through a client problem where my solution wasn’t working (see featured photo), I felt a heaviness settle over me. It was more than a week work of trying to solve a troublesome technical problem, it was the pounding of my sore heart worried about others and the physical discomfort in my body from a UTI and the feeling like everything was stacking up.

I was in a funk. A funk as I typically do them, is usually not observable on the surface but is roiling around just below, making steadiness harder to come by.

As an inveterate “try-er,” I often work right at the edge of my abilities, both personal and professional and say “yes” to whatever comes. While that works for me a lot of the time, I also have to get used to failure and psyching myself up to try again. Sometimes, as was the case last week, multiple failures stack up at the same time and then I feel the gut punch.

My go-to mantra has always been to work harder and try again. I come from a long line of people who jump right up after falling off the horse, ready to get back on. Wallowing about falling off the horse, reviewing the best way to ride the horse or talking about which horse to ride are not allowed – we just jump right back on.

But the older I get, the more I realize that pushing through isn’t always either smart or effective. If I don’t acknowledge the failure or maybe even better said, listen to the learning, before moving on, then I wake at 3am and then watch the highlight reel of my recent failures stream through my head.

Then I have to make peace. I repeat a mantra I learned from a very smart pastor, “My God is bigger than my worries” until my heart settles and I can breathe again. And when calm, I have to find the source of which failure I haven’t yet come to terms with. I lie on my back and focus on the seven Chakras, the Sanskrit word for “disc” or “wheel” which line up with energy centers in our bodies. Starting with the red chakra of my tailbone, I try to identify if I feel safe, then I move to the orange chakra of my pelvis to scan for creativity. Next yellow – solar plexus – power, green – heart – love, blue – throat – communication, indigo – third eye – awareness, purple – top of the head – spirituality.

Somewhere in that scan, I find where exactly I am most troubled and then I can sit with that lesson for enough moments to truly hold it. Even when I don’t yet understand what I’m supposed to learn, I can appreciate that I know where I’m growing.

The pain of failure is not always comfortable. But it’s always instructive and if I don’t want to have to learn the lesson twice, I find I need to sit with it. It’s often kinder than I thought, a signal trying to break through my stubborn insistence to keep moving, trying and problem solving so that it can whisper it’s message, “Listen down deep to where you’ve been opened and find how you can see things differently through the crack. That’s all you have to do and then leave the rest to Me.”

After I spent a few hours with my failures in the middle of Saturday night, I’m happy to report, I solved the client’s problem. More than that, my body is all better too and I lifted the heaviness of heart that came with not spending the time to look.

What do you do when you wake up at 3am?

No Name Calling

Posted in confidenceTagged , , , , 32 Comments

“Success is going from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm.” – Winston Churchill

About ten days ago, a week before my daughter’s elementary school let out for the summer, there was a school Field Day where the entire student body of 400 kids played games at 28 stations to earn food and prizes. They were looking for volunteers so I tended the soccer kick station with another parent.

It was an easy 10 feet kick into a goal. We had a lot of kids come by – Kindergartners who had feet about the size of a deck of cards, differently abled kids that came by with their instructional aides, and most of the student body including the 5th graders who looked like they were ready to take on the world.

Everyone was displaying great spirits until one girl, perhaps in the 4th grade came by with a friend and gave the ball a kick. I shouted “Wuhoo” and she said, “Don’t say ‘Wuhoo.’ I’m a failure.” And I said that she kicked the ball with lots of strength and she repeated, “I’m a failure.”

Her ball hadn’t gone in (we didn’t really require that) but most kids could get it in, even the little Kindergartners. So I gave it her the ball again and said, “Kick it again.” And she did – without even really trying and it didn’t go in. She said, “See, I’m a failure.”

I was flummoxed. Her assertation that she was a failure was a wall that seemed to keep everything from going in. With that up, it didn’t seem like anything could penetrate.

With the first post I wrote about confidence, I can, I quoted author and psychiatrist Neel Burton who distinguished confidence from similar concepts by explaining confidence is feeling “I can,” self-esteem is feeling “I am” and pride is the feeling of “I did.”

When the little girl came to the soccer kick station, she both asserted that she couldn’t and that she was a failure. And once that was in the air it seemed to operate like a foregone conclusion for which there was no quick fix.

Because we can fail over and over again and still be confident. Here are some examples.

“I’ve missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” – Michael Jordan

“Failure is only an opportunity to begin again more intelligently.” – Henry Ford

“A woman who never gives up can’t fail.” – Abby Wambach

The distinction seems to lie between admitting we’ve failed without calling ourselves a failure. I hadn’t thought much about that small difference until I heard researcher and author, Brené Brown tell a story about when her daughter was in pre-school. The pre-school teacher told Brené that one day after Brené’s daughter had been doing art at the glitter table the teacher said to her, “You are a mess.” And the daughter retorted, “I might be messy right now but I’m not a mess.”

In the retelling, Brené laughed and said that her roots as a shame researcher were visible. We can describe our current situation without calling ourselves names. No name calling is a rule in my household since I heard that story, and I apply that to the conversations I have with myself as well.

My daughter overheard me telling my mom about the little girl who called herself a failure at Field Day and was fascinated by the story. It was a great opportunity to talk with her about what happens if we believe the names we call ourselves. I hope the ripple effect is that she won’t call herself names and maybe even say something if she hears someone else doing it.

This is my fifth post about confidence. Here are the others:

I Can

Fear and Confidence

Growth Mind-set

Bossy Pants – Confidence and Leadership

The Beauty of Failure

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , 45 Comments

“Don’t let the internet rush you, no one is posting their failures.” – Wesley Snipes

The other day I failed for the second time to guess a Wordle and learned another life lesson as exemplified by this word game. By the way, no knowledge or affinity for Wordle is necessary to understand this life lesson but for anyone who hasn’t tried Wordle and is curious, here are the basics:

You have six tries to guess a five letter word. You are not given any information to start with but when you enter a guess, you are told if you have any right letters and they are green if correct in the right spot and yellow if they are used on the word but in the wrong spot. There is one word per day.

By the third guess I’d figured out the pattern was _ O _ E R

There were too many possible combinations – LOWER, MOVER, CODER, JOKER so I didn’t work out FOYER within the allotted 6 guesses.

But here’s what I noticed – it was WAY easier to fail the second time. The first time ended my 50 win streak and I was pierced, more than felt reasonable for a silly word game.

Noticing this, I think failing helps me shake the belief that I can be perfect. The longer streak that I had, the more brittle I became about not failing. It felt like there’s a longer way to fall, even if it’s just a silly word game.

It reminded me of a definition of perfection that Brené Brown provides in her book, The Gifts of Imperfection. “Perfection is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgment and shame. It’s a shield. Perfectionism is a twenty-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will protect us when, in fact, it is the thing that’s really preventing us from taking flight.”

I’m not advocating practicing failing. But I am suggesting talking about it and laughing about it when we do. For me, it doesn’t change the impression of anyone around me who are well aware I’m not perfect. But it does penetrate my illusion that I think I can or have to maintain some persona that is impervious to failure. Even the fact that I have an ego still after years of meditating to find the Unity in life needs piercing.

So, thank you, Wordle. Not only for the two minutes of daily entertainment but a few good life lessons too!

(featured photo by Pexels)

Wordle as a Metaphor for Life?

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , 21 Comments

“You can’t win a game 7 without losing three games first. Keep going.” – Shea Serrano

As I having trouble solving Wordle the other day, I realized that I have been unusually focused on the word I used to start the puzzle. I’ve asked my friends that also play it what word they use. I’ve tried a few different ones myself, often using S-T-E-R-N since it represents some of the letters used most frequently used in English.

[For anyone who hasn’t tried to play this game that was recently bought by the NY Times, Wordle is a game where you have six tries to guess a common five letter word. You are not given any information to start with but when you enter a guess, you are told if you have any right letters and they are green if correct in the right spot and yellow if they are used on the word but in the wrong spot. Letters can be repeated. There is one word a day and everyone gets the same word so rest assured, this post doesn’t reveal today’s wordle.]

But as I typed in my word and got the result that the answer had none of those letters, I realized that knowing what isn’t in the word is equally as important.

The absence of a positive result is also informative.

It makes me think of a story about Thomas Edison. As he was trying to invent the light bulb, he tried more than a hundred different types of materials to use for the filament. Someone asked if he got discouraged and he said that he didn’t because each failure told him one more thing that didn’t work.

So Wordle is just the latest reminder that life is best met by continuing attempts to try. Every failure is just another opportunity to see what doesn’t fit. When I feel great resistance to something I’m doing in work or parenting, it presents an opportunity to think about whether I should push harder or try another tactic.

Some of life’s lessons are the hardest because we learn what not to do. But they are also some of the most valuable lessons, especially when we are able to distill the information and heal the trauma.

I did finally get the Wordle on the sixth try – phew! Because there weren’t very many letters left to combine into a common word (letters in dark gray on the keyboard indicate they have been tried and are not used in the word). It reminded me yet again, failure is an excellent source of information. Here it is in case you want to guess.

Back on Top

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , 4 Comments

“When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.” – John Muir

Sometimes I think I can more easily name mountain climbing trips where I didn’t summit than the ones I did. Like that time on Mt. Elbrus in Russia where I was throwing up at our camp at 13,500 ft and stayed in the hut with the really funny, nice guy from California who had a headache. Or the time on Mt. Orizaba in Mexico when we couldn’t cross that exposed couloir because the ice was too fractious to get a screw in. In both cases I was a long way from home not to succeed and maybe that’s why they stand out — though I can name the ones closer to home as well.

Looking back at those climbs now, I see they were a way for me to practice two elements of life “in play” before having to live them. I started climbing mountains in my late 20’s before I had racked up any big life losses.  So the first thing I was practicing is trying, that decision to tackle something that is really gutsy for me, not knowing whether or not I would succeed. And the second I was developing was being able to fail without seeing myself as a failure.

There’s a critical element of letting go for me when I don’t succeed. It is humility, recognizing limits. It’s all about accepting that I don’t have to be finished in order to be loved, even by or especially by myself. That self-acceptance has come with practicing failing. A choice between leaning in towards the love that has always held me or branding myself unworthy.

Here’s what climbing has taught me. Standing on top is great, especially if I’m mindful of the sacredness of what I see up there. It is a moment to take in all the commitment and teamwork it took to get there. But failing to get to the top just means I get to spend more time in the mountains and I practice that key part of life – trying. Lucky me!

I’ve also learned a secret — no one else in my life really cares whether I summit or not. As long as I walk back into the parking lot upright and smiling, it’s good enough for the people who know and love me. Of course they care if it’s important to me but often it’s what I try that sticks in their minds, not what I succeed at. No one else is tallying a score card of my life.

None of these things are only about climbing because now that I’ve failed plenty in my “real” life, I know they are just as true about life in general. It’s not easy to keep trying big things and its hard to fail – but practicing it makes it easier.

Years ago I had a friend who said to me in a moment of vulnerability when his dad died suddenly, “I just wish he’d been able to see me back on top.” He’d gone through some really hard life losses right before his dad passed and the pain of wanting to be successful in his dad’s eyes was palpable.

I can’t speak authoritatively for my friend’s father but I knew him as a gentle and wise man. I believe he already saw his son back on top. Because my friend was still trying and still smiling.

Finishing

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , , ,

“Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen” -Ralph Waldo Emerson

About six years ago I had coffee with a childhood friend. At the time he had been separated from his wife with whom he shared three teenage kids for about three years and though he said he knew it was over (his wife had a boyfriend), they hadn’t gotten divorced yet. He explained it was of the health insurance but he seemed a little angry and unresolved as well. As a newly divorced person who’d spent some time in that in-between place too, I told him, he had to get divorced. “Why?” he asked. “I can’t explain why” I said “but it matters.”

I was thinking of that conversation the other day when I was unloading the dishwasher. I had done the bottom rack and the silverware but was interrupted by the chaos and flurry of the morning routine with my kids and didn’t finish. When I came back to the sink, there were dishes there, I went to put them in the dishwasher, couldn’t because I hadn’t finished the job and it made me chuckle. A half empty dishwasher is no good to anyone!

Why is it so hard to finish things? Maybe we often get distracted by the noise and the flurry. But I know also with me there’s also the impulse to hedge my bet just in case I change my mind. Or the finality comes with a lump that is hard to accept. I know that was part of my hesitancy to finish the legal filing to get divorced when I went through it – I didn’t want to accept the title and the failure that I felt it conveyed. And now looking back on it ten years later, I see that it wasn’t a failure, but a catapult. I’ve never built one myself but I understand that catapults work when someone cuts the cord.

In the Sound of Music, Maria says, “When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.” I’ve come to think of these alternative doors like an air lock. The next door won’t open until the first is fully closed. The Universe does not know how to help until we clearly commit to the path we are on. Our spirits cannot embody two half lives.

About six months ago my childhood friend wrote me an email that he had gotten divorced. After nearly 10 years being separated he had finally finished. And then about three months after that, he wrote me again to tell me about the new woman he was dating. I felt his happiness and applauded him — and I was also so gratified to know that even when you delay finishing the cycle for so long, it still works once you do.