The Joy of Failure

When I was fourteen, I moved to Canada from Shawnee, Oklahoma.  For those with a limited grasp of geography, there are no real mountains in Oklahoma, and thus, no ski hills.  But my parents convinced me that one of the important opportunities in moving to Canada was the opportunity to learn to ski. 
Their favourite expression was: "If you're not falling down, you're not trying hard enough."  This, of course, was said at the bottom of every ski run, because none of us could get down even the greenest of slopes without some time spent on our bottoms... or, occasionally, our bellies.
But the expression works quite well with coaching, too.  A disturbing number of people today seem to think that the goal of life is to get down the hill without falling (read: without failing).  So they only ski the slopes they have mastered and never move up to the blue squares, or the foreboding black diamonds.  They never try anything at which they might fail. 
But what if we simply threw caution to the wind, and experienced the Joy of Failure as well as the Joy of Success?  A favourite analogy of mine is the heat-seeking missile: it sets out towards its target, veers too far to the left, over-corrects and veers to the right and eventually makes contact. So different than the missile that sits back on its heels, too scared of going in the wrong direction.
What if "failure" and "success" were simply descriptions of information and didn't describe "us" or what we mistakenly believe ourselves to be. What if failing was just another way to get where we are headed; in fact, a faster way, because frankly I know I have learned a lot more from the times I fell down than from the times I gracefully glided, looking good all the way.   In other words, the times I wasn't trying hard enough.



  

Easter - A Moveable Feast

Easter is called a "moveable feast" because it is a holy day in Christianity whose date is not fixed to a particular day of the calendar year.
Another use of the term "moveable feast" is to mean the memory of a time or place that continues to go with a person for the rest of his or her life, after the experience is over.  Ernest Hemingway used the title A Moveable Feast for his memoirs of his early life as a struggling writer in Paris in the 1920s. He said to a friend: "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."
What are your "moveable feasts"?  What memories of other times or experiences stay with you and colour what your "present time"? 

"Being with" vs. "fixing"

     There is a concept in coaching called "being with."  It means to be with whatever arises and to stay with it, observe it, and experience it, rather than to "fix" it.  Believe me, every new coach, sooner or later, gets an overwhelming urge to "fix" their clients, not recognizing that all clients -- in fact, virtually all people -- are quite capable of "fixing" themselves.
     We all do it, whether we are coaches or not.  We want to "fix" the problems of our children, our spouses, our friends, our neighbours and our families.  Usually, the "fix" is a knee-jerk, often inappropriate, reaction due to the fact that we -- in fact, our entire society -- has very little tolerance for just "being with."  Ironic, since most people don't really want to be "fixed" -- we all just long for someone  to "be with" us as we navigate life's ups and downs. 
   An exercise that is given to new coaches in training is to open the cabinet under the kitchen sink and just "be with" whatever is there for fifteen minutes.  When I did this during my own training several years ago, I found that within 10 seconds I wanted to wash away the stains on the cabinet floor, throw away the junk that had accumulated and rearrange all the containers of dishwashing soap.  In other words, "fix it."  Yet, I had to sit there, on my hands, for fifteen minutes and just "be with" whatever showed up.  Eventually, I found myself becoming terribly curious about how all those pipes work and I noticed a lot of things I never had before.   
   What happens when we take a deep breath and toss off the mantle of responsibility that convinces us we must "fix" everything and everyone in our lives?  Interestingly, relationships tend to deepen, gratitude pops up and life becomes incredibly rewarding -- for everyone involved.
     Try it for a day.  Just "be with" whatever arises and push down that feeling of needing to "fix" it.