A life of courage, joy and independence.
Failure is like a hard slap across the face. Dizzying, disorienting, painful and a shock to the system. Even when we know it might be coming the effect is abrupt and startling; and if we fail to recover our footing quickly we may be left immediately vulnerable to further trauma and misadventure. So whenever I fail I immediately reach out my arms in an effort to arrest my recoil and prevent a dangerous fall. When stumbling I always prefer some solid object to grab onto, though I will gratefully accept the hand of a caring friend when no inanimate support can be found. Call it pride though I’d still rather fail, fall and become a little bloodied and bruised alone, than in the company of another who might cushion or lessen the blow with nice words and expressions of sympathy and understanding. Let me suffer my failure in solitude though the fact be public and known to all. I’ve no interest in sharing the bitter fruit of my own folly, unreadiness or ineptitude. Leave me alone to bleed a while, to reflect on what I’ve done or failed to do or to ponder the caprice of chance. None can help me to consume these thoughts which I must chew and swallow of my own volition. And when the foul meal is consumed I’ll struggle again to my feet, to plan my next assault or limp away in some other worthy direction. This is how I prefer to fail and perhaps one explanation of why I nearly always adventure alone.