Into The Ashes

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“It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles 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 up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.” Theodore Roosevelt

It begins with those obnoxious bumper stickers, “My Son was Student of the Month” at such and such elementary school. Then there’s the valedictorian, salutatorian and other such designations at high school graduation that provides proof that your daughter or son was capable of conforming very nicely with the arcane rules and structure of an education system that long passed its relevance. As if the pomp and circumstance of high school graduation was was not enough, there’s the stack of college window stickers on the family vehicle, hopefully of prestigious schools, that further validates that little Johnny or Susie have truly arrived and are set on an upwardly focused trajectory. As we mature, we settle down to fancy cars and appropriate zip codes to make sure that those around us haven’t forgotten that we, and our offspring, are winners in the game of life.

Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m really not that cynical. No, seriously, I’m not. People have the right to feel proud of their accomplishments, although using their accomplishments as a well-crafted branding strategy is somewhat aggravating, at least to me. What really concerns me is the implication that life is a simple binary code of success and failure. Success leads to parades and bragging rights while failure is, well, just failure. A parent will never stop talking about all the great things their precious offspring has accomplished, but try asking a parent the status of their “other” child. You get vague responses of going-ons or subtle, sarcastic comments like, “Joey is Joey, he’s always kept me up at night.” Try being that guy who loses his job and finds it difficult to get returned networking phone calls from what he thought were friendly business connections. Your “friends” now have quiet conversations behind your back about your unfortunate dismissal.

In his book Iron John, Edward Bly talks about the importance of living in the ashes in a man’s process of becoming a man. The implication is clear, to become a man you have to experience all parts of manhood including dealing and learning from the difficulties afforded by life. Not to experience hardship renders man an incomplete being, ill-equipped to deal with the inevitable disappointments that await him around every corner. We’ve heard it many times from those we admire, failure is a learning experience. The most successful in our history leave a legacy of unrelenting failures. Somehow, this loses its meaning in the translation. We refuse to accept failure for what it is, inevitable bumps along life’s road. The next time someone starts talking about his children, ask more questions about the kid who is getting less airtime. And when a man talks about trying something different in his career, whether this change is voluntary or forced, embrace and support! If we choose to see life through the ashes, our optimism and excitement become real, not a typical "look at me, I’m great."

#Failure