Failure is an Option

I was recently asked in a job interview about my biggest failures in life and how I’ve dealt with them. I was caught a little off guard. “Aren’t you supposed to be asking me about all of my successes and snazzy resume virtues like revenue growth and educational accomplishments?” I thought to myself.

Really though, I was thrilled that the meeting lead with the topic of failure because as someone swimming in the season of midlife, I consider myself something of a failure expert. While I have much to be grateful for and have suffered far less trauma than many, I’ve also had my fair share of failures from divorce to being laid-off. 

I’ve been a part of two failed start-ups. I’ve been rejected for more acting auditions and article submissions than I could possibly count. I once applied to several top acting Masters programs and didn’t get in to any of them. I’ve outlined career choices I thought were the right next step only to be rejected and/or profoundly disappointed. I’ve made poor financial decisions. I’ve hurt others and walked away from close friendships. I’ve experienced significant injuries, major surgeries, and the vast uncertainty of having your health compromised. Like almost everyone, I’ve experienced the sting of defeat, the utter frustration of a significant misstep, and the total loss of losing a loved one.

Of course, I gave my interviewer the cliff-notes version of my failures and weaved just a couple of them in to my narrative on failure forging character. The interviewer nodded in agreement, and we quietly moved on to my successes. 

While society lauds a winner, we merely give lip service to the losers. Most of that sentiment is about dusting ourselves off to succeed again. But navigating failure is deeper than learning to succeed in the wake of it. Facing failure is about seeing our shadow, confronting our sorrow, and stepping once again into the arena to oppose the dragon. In the Hollywood version, the loser gets knocked down, but always gets back up and slays the dragon. 

But I’m not a screenwriter and the purpose of this piece is not to romanticize failure. Make no mistake, failure is brutal. Failure can break your heart, hit you in the gut and pull the carpet from under your feet. Failure sucks - It literally hurts everywhere.

Especially in a success-driven culture, failure is a hard pill to swallow. But failure is also our best medicine, because failure forces humility. This state allows for the greatest of all human experiences to flourish - love. As grief guru and writer Francis Weller says, “Loss is the other side of the coin of love. The greater the love, the greater the loss.” Vulnerability creates the fertile soil where friendship, empathy, and love blossoms.

True love is only available to those who are willing to have their hearts broken. If you study the world’s religions, you will see a common theme among them - brokenness allows for spiritual growth. Christ doesn’t talk about the proud and successful being blessed, but of the meek, the poor in spirit, and broken hearted finding true peace and happiness. 

The reason for this is simple - When the ego is in the driver’s seat, we cannot hear the voice of authenticity. It’s hard to listen for divine direction when we’re patting ourselves on the back, counting our money, and shining our trophies. It’s when we’re broken that we’re open. Of course, as I can attest, it’s when we’re broken that we’re also depressed, addicted, and numb.

As one who has failed plenty, it’s not easy to hear the ‘you’ll get them next time’ mantra. No one likes to hear about ‘silver linings’ in the midst of trauma, setback, or devastation. Players don’t want to hear “better luck next year” after a gut-wrenching loss; they want to know when the next win is coming. But life doesn’t guarantee wins, life only guarantees losses, and it’s those losses that create character and help us define our true callings. Irish poet John O’Donahue once said, “Life is a growth in the art of loss.”

The truth of failure isn’t that once you’ve learned from defeat, you’ll get them next time or it won’t happen again. Learning from failure doesn’t even necessarily mean that you’ll ultimately be stronger. The truth is simply that if we’re willing to face our most profound disappointments, our hearts will ultimately open. This meekness allows for us to do our most meaningful work and demonstrate our greatest capacity to love.

As the interview wound down having touched on both my successes and failures, the interviewer asked me another pointed question. “When’s the last time you felt really alive?” he inquired. It didn’t take me long to respond. “In delivering the eulogy for my Dad at his memorial,” I said as tears welled up in my eyes. I vividly recalled how powerful it was to celebrate and remember Dad with hundreds of people that he had touched. Ironically, in remembering a loved one who had just passed, I’ve never felt so alive. As Francis Weller says, “We are most alive at the threshold between loss and revelation; every loss ultimately opens the way for a new encounter.” The interviewer was stunned. “That...was a great answer.” He said.

As a society, we’re so caught up with success that paradoxically, we’ve forgotten how to fail. We only post our best pictures and portray our most perfect selves, unwilling to see the failure that lurks beneath the surface. We celebrate the celebrities, stars, and small minority of haves while the have-nots wallow in a sea of numbness, distraction, and despair.

We are all called to mourn and to open our hearts. We have much grief work to do in facing our collective losses, missed opportunities, economic disparity, and our ailing planet. Each day as I work through the sadness of missing my Dad, I also try and work through the anguish caused by regret, massive disappointment, and lost opportunity. Bringing dignity to my grief is a process.

It’s right to plan, strive, and hope for success, but life has also taught me that failure is definitely an option. As I learn to let go of the desires of the ego and sit with loss and suffering, I also learn to listen more intently and love more fiercely. Facing our grief and failure teaches us how to love (ourselves, a job, person, or calling) again.

Oh and speaking of failure, I didn’t get the job. 

Falling into Place

“When we learn to fall, we learn that only by letting go our grip on all that we ordinarily find most precious—our achievements, our plans, our loved ones, our very selves—can we find, ultimately, the most profound freedom. In the act of letting go of our lives, we return more fully to them." — Philip Simmons

When I was a kid I loved the New York Yankees with all of my heart. My Dad, a New Yorker by birth, brought my brother and me to games while visiting family back east, and in seeing the “House that Ruth built,” it was love at first sight for me. The aura, the tradition, the pinstripes, Babe Ruth and Don Mattingly - what’s not to like about the Bronx Bombers?! The Yankees were perfection and I was going to be their future second baseman. At least that was my plan when I was seven.

At that point, I was enrolled in art class at the Portland Art Museum for the summer, but in seeing the kids out on the local baseball field, I was adamant that my mom let me quit art class and allow me to sign up for little league baseball. She reluctantly agreed. I wasn’t a terrible second baseman, but by the time I was 12 it was pretty clear that Yankee pinstripes weren’t in my future.

In high school and college I was determined to become a successful advertising executive like my father. I studied business, got my marketing degree and even had my own briefcase, just like Dad. And after finishing school, I was a pretty decent ad man and the money was good, but it didn’t feed my soul, so I kept searching.

I left traditional advertising for new media and after a failed ‘Dot-Com’ start up venture in my late twenties, I decided it was high time to figure out what I really wanted to do with my life. After months of soul searching, I landed on acting. I had been an enthusiastic actor in high school and I seemed to have a knack for entertaining others. “Broadway here I come!” I thought to myself. After landing a couple leading roles in local plays, I applied to some of the top Masters programs in the country for acting - Yale, Cal Arts and a few others. But despite my enthusiasm, I didn’t get in to any of them. Still, I persisted with acting, grinding out local theater and independent film productions in Seattle. While I loved the creative process, as the years passed, I also realized that life as a starving artist wasn’t in the long-term cards for me. 

Along the way, I had picked up a job as a personal trainer to feed my acting habit. As someone who was passionate about exercise and a fairly adept communicator, I did well in fitness. I enjoyed coaching and made a decent living, but the job was physically taxing and I felt trapped by the glass ceiling of monetizing hours in the day.

Then the idea occurred to me that instead of chasing passion and purpose, I should settle for stability. I had befriended someone who was a police officer and he made a good living, raked in lots of overtime pay and enjoyed one of the few careers that still provides a guaranteed retirement. Though law enforcement wasn’t really in my creative, free thinking wheelhouse, I liked the idea of helping others and helping myself with a ‘stable’ career. The only problem was, I didn’t get in to the police departments I applied to. Whether the cops didn’t like my critical thought process and ‘question authority’ disposition or I had partied too hard in college, I’ll never know. But at the end of the process, it was clear - I wasn’t going to be a cop.

I stuck with fitness and decided that I would change the world through my natural ability as a personality. I auditioned for and was selected to be an on-camera trainer in a nationally televised series for MTV. Surely this was my big break and I was destined for speaking engagements, on camera work, and life as a celebrity trainer. But it didn’t turn out that way. The show flopped after one season and no one called me to become the next Jack Lalanne or Jillian Michaels.

I decided a change of scenery was necessary. Colorado is a fitness mecca and the vitamin D suited me well. I started blogging and writing and with my creative background, storytelling seemed to flow naturally. I began publishing regularly for fitness magazines and websites. Surely a book deal was right around the corner...But the reality was, writing provided even less income and stability than acting. Back to square one.

As I approached middle age, the prospect of not having a stable and successful career track seemed utterly terrifying. In many ways it still scares the hell out of me. But instead of planning to be the next Derek Jeter, Brad Pitt, or Mickey Spillane, I’ve decided to just be Eric. Instead of trying to figure out my next step, I’ve decided to simply concentrate on trying to live my current step.

I’ve realized, as the quote from Phillip Simmons says, that in order to truly discover my authentic path, I must be willing to let go, stumble and fall…a lot. To that end, I seem to be making progress! Besides, as someone who thought that I had all the answers along the way, not knowing can actually be somewhat liberating. Having a passion and a plan is great, but I’ve also learned through the years that falling and failing is ultimately the only way we truly learn and grow.

Still, the tape in my head continues to play on auto repeat. “What if I’m not that special or talented? What if I never get rich? What if I don’t ever reach that mountaintop? What if I never figure out what I’m supposed to be when I grow up?” These dilemmas have kept me up at many a night. 

But falling and failing has taught me two things: I will get back up and I will keep going. Furthermore, it is life’s failures that forge our character and give us meaning. 

My brother had the world by the balls before a massive medical issue at 30 changed his career, personal life and lifestyle. While he had to let go of his hobbies as an avid rock climber and motorcycle enthusiast and ended up leaving a high-income job, he said hello to a lifelong commitment to his wife and his faith. As my brother learned, cool motorcycles, nice houses and fancy vacations are great, but they aren’t the meaning of life. Nor is a decorative title or a ‘successful’ career.

I’ve realized, just like my brother, that what is really important is loving my wife, family and those close to me. What’s important is contributing to my community and deepening my relationship with the Divine. That is the meaning of life.

I’m now in yet another new career in hospitality. I like helping others and hope to help build a brand at some point in wellness fused with hospitality. But by now, I’ve learned enough to know that plans change and in the meantime, life happens. Instead of planning for future success, I’m now trying more so to listen in the present.

Falling (and failing) has been a mixed blessing in my life. Sometimes it’s tempting to feel sorry for myself for not having reached the pinnacle of what society deems as success. But life doesn’t work that way. There is no mountaintop, only climbing and falling. On the journey, if we’re lucky, we live and learn and fall in love. To that end I am super fortunate to have lived, learned and loved. I’m still not sure what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I’ll keep trying, failing and getting back up along the way.

Learning to Fail

One of the more poignant moments I can remember in recent years is getting the crap beat out of me shortly after one of my biggest life failures. Just weeks after signing my divorce papers in 2012, I had to endure a few rounds of hard sparring at a martial arts testing and I got pummeled. Already bloodied and bruised, in the third round I was kicked so hard in the ribs that I doubled over and took a knee. In order to pass my test, I had to make it through all three rounds - I was literally saved by the bell.

In a twisted way, it was actually sort of cathartic to have my body feel the way my heart did – battered and broken. While getting beaten up isn’t something I’d necessarily recommend, I can also tell you that failure is almost a certainty in life and learning to cope with pain is a critical part of progression in anything.

Yet culturally, everything and everyone seems to be telling you the opposite – that success happens by finding your bliss and seeking pleasure. The quick fix is everywhere you look. Get rich quick seminars, crash diets, and fad exercise programs tell you the news your brain loves to hear – that there’s a convenient solution and a comfortable change - it just takes hard work and the right program.

But what if it wasn’t about the program, the right timing, or even how hard you worked? What if advancement was simply about the willingness to face the pain and the certainty of failure.

If I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that I may or may not reach my goals, dreams, and aspirations, but I will most definitely fail while trying. The silver lining is that failure brings with it the opportunity to find authenticity and wholeness through introspective work and forgiveness. While more life lessons are surely on their way through my next mess up, here’s what I have learned so far:

o   Ego can take you to the depths of hell. In every major failure I’ve had, ego was in the driver’s seat. You are not your body, your job, or even your relationships, but you become the thoughts you give power to. Ego says you are defined by quantities, while your true self is defined by qualities.

You may lose your job, but you haven’t lost the qualities that got you that job. You may lose your relationship, but you haven’t lost the opportunity to love with your whole heart. Next time your ego tells you that you are defined by what you have, remind yourself that in the end, you will be remembered by your qualities.

o   Honesty isn’t your best policy, humility is. Your failure is an opportunity to perfect your virtue which is simply the opposite of your vice. My vice is pride. When others wrong me, I cast them aside and never, ever turn back. Puffing my chest up may be my default, but when I am at my best, humility governs my thoughts and actions. The problem is that when we fail, we often look for something or someone to blame, even if it’s us. In doing so we can lash out to those who have wronged us, and frequently, that lashing out is self-directed. Here’s the thing though – playing the blame game ultimately proves nothing. What matters is the humility to face the wreckage and move on.

o   Quitting is sometimes your best option. Anyone who’s ever been divorced can attest to the utter devastation associated with such a separation. You don’t get married before friends, family, and God to see it fail miserably. Compounding the effects of a trauma like a divorce are the prospects of acute pain, loneliness, and the loss of companionship. But if love, justice, and truth are worth fighting for, abuse and hatred are worth leaving behind. Leaving a relationship, job, or bad habit is sometimes our best option as something built on a false foundation isn’t worth salvaging, it’s worth tearing down and starting over on the right footing. 

o   Victims don’t heal. One thing I have seen over and over again in my in life both personally and professionally is that no one ever makes a lasting change that they don’t genuinely want to make. People make changes when they’ve had enough and their back is against the wall.

It sucks to get downsized. It sucks to get hurt or heartbroken. It sucks to get sick. It sucks when your genetics aren’t perfect. A lot of life’s setbacks aren’t our fault. It wasn’t your fault that your parents were lousy role models or your boss is an asshole. But it is your fault that you hold on to your pain, anger, and self-justification. True freedom can only come about by releasing negativity and allowing wounds to heal though the natural order of time and forgiveness. The statute of limitations is now – you aren’t a victim, you have the power of choice.

o   You must face the pain. Sometimes you’re going to get your ass kicked and it’s going to hurt - maybe even worse than you think. It’s tempting to run the other way. But the great irony of the things that mask our pain (booze, sex, food, etc.) is that these temporary reprieves only prolong and compound the inevitable pain. One of the best ways to cope with pain is to find support. If your body hurts, treat it gently and get a massage. If your heart hurts, join a support group and seek those who can understand your plight. If your mind hurts, force yourself to sit with your thoughts until they pass.

More than anything though, we have to face the hurt and the trauma. Peace is only found on the other side of it. There’s no way around the storms of life – our job is to face the pain and release its grip by swimming with the current.

Learning to fail isn’t something covered in school. There are no participation trophies in the game of life. We’ll have many wins if we’re fortunate and few failures if we’re lucky. But failure is going to happen and regardless of circumstance, the work is clear – peace of mind and character are forged with finding the resolve to face the mess and the courage to clean it up.