Failure is an Option

It's OK to be sad. Even when the sadness stretches on longer than you thought possible, longer than you want it to, longer than you think it should.  Maybe you knew that.  Maybe, like me, you needed to be reminded.

But did you know it's OK to feel like a failure sometimes?  Yep.  It's especially helpful when you recognize what those feelings mean -- and what they don't.

For example, feeling like a failure does not actually mean that you are one.  It does not mean that you are worthless, that your value is diminished at all.  It does not mean that your future is bleak, that you are condemned to some sub-par existence for the rest of your life, that you are somehow 'less than.'  It does not mean that you didn't live up to your potential somehow (or that you did and failure is all you have to offer).  Failure is not the final word, the final judge, the final power.  

Feelings of failure are most often just alerting you to two important things:  

1. You have experienced [significant] loss. 

2. Shame has attached itself to that loss and may be keeping you from moving through it.

Feelings of failure are the very edge of a crater left by a meteor strike.  The meteor may have been large or small, but the feelings are simply your heart's attempt to tell you that there is a hole and it hurts.  It can be a specific, tangible loss, like the loss of a loved one, the loss of a job, even the loss of someone's good opinion.  But there are sneaky losses, too, like the loss of community or the loss of a sense of purpose.  Loss can be sudden and overt, or it can be an ebbing-away over time.  Either way, the feelings tell us that something we value is gone (or seems endangered).

Why is that important?  Well, it tells us how to care for ourselves. It gives us direction for moving forward toward life. And the first thing we must do is creep past the edges and acknowledge the size and depth of the crater.  

It might seem like walking off the edge of a cliff, but if we can acknowledge our loss, rejection, anger, if we can turn away from blame and shame, we can eventually face what is at the bottom of the crater: Fear, sadness, loneliness, and a set of hard circumstances that we must learn how to live through.  As scary, uncomfortable, or overwhelming as this may seem, it is the beginning of acceptance and grief.  

Grief is a much healthier and more honoring response to loss than blame, shame, and guilt.  When we grieve, it can move us away from shame and into a place of empowerment so that we can eventually turn to new, nourishing sources of life and fulfillment.  Grief allows us to let go of something we cannot have so that we may receive and participate in good things again.

But to truly grieve and grow again, we must name, speak, and turn away from shame as the destructive force that it is.  Shame is like radiation that emanates from a meteor strike.  (I think this is because human beings are not just dirt and earth but powerful energy sources.  When energy sources are damaged, they can cause further destruction to themselves and others.)  Often we are not aware that shame is happening, but we definitely experience the fallout when we begin to believe all those (often very compelling) lies about ourselves.  If you are getting messages that your value is somehow diminished, that you are unworthy and life is bleak, it is shame radiation poisoning.  It's a lie, a thinking error, a false conclusion, a reaction that, left unaddressed, will only cause more damage to you and others.

When we speak our shame, when we have the opportunity to grieve,  we are finally freed to examine our values. We no longer identify with the crater; we are recovering from it. We are bigger and have more to offer than a hole and radiation poisoning. Now we can ask things like,  "What need was being filled by this important relationship I lost?"  Was the relationship healthy and good and honorable?  Was the need being filled in a way consistent with your values?  Are there good, healthy new places to take this need now?  

It is only at this stage that we develop the resilience to recognize whether any actual failure occurred.  

Because that's the final reason it's OK to feel like a failure sometimes.  Failure happens! In fact, failure is necessary for our maturity.  We MUST fail in order to learn and grow, and we must embrace and grow through the feelings that result from failure, whether it be ours or someone else's.  

For more on shame and resilience, look up Brené Brown's work on BreneBrown.com or anywhere books are sold.

The Way Forward is Sometimes The Way Back

Looking for a little encouragement?  I might have some for you.

It has to do with basketball.

Well, more specifically, it has to do with a movie about basketball that, of course, is really about life -- but not about life just in general.  This was a movie about my life and, possibly, about yours.

I finally watched "The Way Back" and in it I discovered inspiration I wasn't expecting.  Somewhere beneath the big themes of loss and addiction and contribution was a crazy brilliant truth.  Blink and you might miss it, for it lay not in the portrayal of trauma and redemption, but in the messy coaching of a nondescript high school basketball team.  It went something like this: 

1. Most of us are not star players.

This might sound depressing, and maybe if the film left us there, it would be.  But it hit on one of the greatest struggles we can face in our lives: In the sheer mundanity of our our everyday existence, in the face of all the things that are bigger than us, do we still matter?  Do we count?  Do we make a difference?   Even if we are not the star players?

Because we all know there are star players out there, like the big, badass opposing team of up-and-coming athletes in the film.  They have raw talent.  They've had opportunity to develop it.  They've got experience and open doors.  Clearly they are going somewhere, doing something, for better or for worse.  They are the 1%.  Which means that, statistically speaking, most of us are not them.  

But that's not what matters in the end.  When all is said and done, we each still have something to bring to the game -- something meaningful -- if we're willing to do the messy, frustrating work of owning it, offering it, and disciplining it.

And as the movie depicts, that is certainly not easy.  Sometimes we must learn to speak up.  Sometimes we must to learn to shut up.  Sometimes we must show up and sometimes we need to go home.  Whatever the challenge, we will probably have to do a lot of laps.  But most often, what we've really got to get into our heads and hearts is the next vital truth of the film:

2. Never forget that the little things count.

This is film gold right here, a few sentences that maybe amount to six seconds of overt air time.  

"Chip away at it.  It's the little things.  The little things count."  

When our stories don't look like star-player-stories; when there aren't big appearances of larger-than-life talent and against-all-odds moments; when we really do have to face realities of heartache and loss and failure and there are no epic come-backs; when we're sadly bereft of finding our perfect partner, our perfect calling, our perfect place in the world, we can lose our bearings.  We can struggle to find meaning.  We can become discouraged to say the least.

But the truth is, most of us really are making and can make a difference, it's just not in a single moment, not in a single achievement, not in an epic battle of good vs. evil, not in a planetary alignment of justice and truth so that love conquers all.  Our stories look more like chipping away at the opposition and never. giving. up.  

Our stories are ones in which our daily decisions, the little decisions, are the ones that make a difference.  

And if we can focus on that, remember it, and let it drive us, it is then that we can truly accomplish things we never thought possible before.

That's it.  That's the encouragement I have to offer you.  Check out the movie.  Imagine your life on the court -- working your ass off, yes, but chipping away at the opposition little by little, pressing in, and achieving something worthwhile in the process.  Because I am not a star player, but I don't have to be, and you don't have to be one either.  Whether the game we've committed to is caring for self and others, working our recovery, voting for systemic change, seeking healing, or just pulling our families together in the midst of hardship and devastation, we can do the little things.  The little things count. 

Don't. give. up.

Everything Will Change

God. 

changed. 

everything.

And we never saw it coming.

We didn't know it was happening,

had no clue that anything was even going on.

How often does God change things this way?

Quietly. 

Sneakily.

Not through pompous nor idealistic politicians, kings, or commerce,

but a light in the darkness we somehow do not see?

How often is God with us, birthing hope

in secret places 

that shake the foundations of the earth?

Because God changed everything in the womb of an inconsequential woman,

through a baby born where there was no room for him,

through a carpenter turned Great Physician.

Yet someone knew to look for him -

a ragamuffin child.

Someone knew to watch

they knew what to watch for,

knew how to recognize the work of God, the light of God.

No one talks much about this mind-blowing fact.

Someone knew how to see the subtle, mundane-seeming movement

of the Maker of the Universe in our midst.

We call them wise.

Teach us how to see, God,

how to see God.

Show us what to watch for, that we may leap for joy

within our own small wombs.

Because we need you to change us.

change.

everything.