On Failure

Image: Harmony Lawrence from Pixabay

I doubt that any of us enjoy failure, but according to Jancee Dunn writing in the New York Times, if not fun, failure has its benefits. Dunn goes so far as to say that if we want to thrive, first, learn to fail. She tells of Sara Blakely, founder of the shapewear brand Spanx . . . As a child, her father would pose an unusual question to her and her brother over dinner: How did you fail this week? Spanx’ father encouraged his children to fail, and not to be afraid of it. Failure itself was not the goal—the benefit however—the pearl in the oyster—was to learn from the failure and not despair.

Thinking of those who embody such an attitude, I think of Susie Myerson, Midge Maisel’s agent in the series The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel, who simply would not take NO for an answer. Susie would never accept failure—there simply was more work to be done. I have a colleague who runs daily. She often says that when you are faced with a steep hill you feel unable to surmount, then you go around it. I have however chosen to give up running.

I do know of one Canadian opera star, Marian Newman, who in an early interview was asked how she dealt with failure. After a moment’s thought, she responded that she had not experienced failure. In her case, I think that’s true—she comes from an amazing family—her brother is equally famous and accomplished. Such persons do exist, but they are few and far between, and certainly not in the realm of my personal experience.

Dunn goes on to quote another writer, Dr. Amy Edmondson, a professor of leadership at Harvard Business School who has spent 20 years researching psychological safety, or the belief that people can speak up in the workplace without the risk of punishment or humiliation. Her new book “Right Kind of Wrong: The Science of Failing Well” uses that research to explore how we can build a healthy relationship with our mistakes. She offers several strategies which closely relate to my own story.

In my first role as an ordained priest things were not going well. The parish was not a good match for my abilities and interests. I had much to learn however. A counsellor suggested that I reframe my failures as necessary and meaningful life experiences. It was good advice, and to a large extent I was able to do this, and then moved on to another ministry shortly afterwards with my head held higher.

A second suggestion from Edmondson also relevant to my own vocational story was learn how to pivot. We all had to do this especially in the early days of COVID. I experienced this in two ways.

At the time I volunteered at an advisory level with the Canadian National Institute for the Blind (CNIB). Our organization did a brilliant, deft, and effective job of moving the work online, all over the course of just a few weeks, a pattern now largely retained now that in-person engagement has once again returned.

In Cathedral ministry in Kamloops, also during COVID, the normal pattern of folks dropping round to the church, the place where we typically engaged each other—and the stranger in downtown Kamloops—disappeared, seemingly in a number of days. All that community connecting was lost for most of two years. But the worship experience we pioneered together was of very high quality; it extended our reach provincially and nationally; it became a model for best practices; I actually miss it, even now.

So if misery loves company, failure fosters friendship. Let’s be real with each other. Life is not a competition. Each and every day of the week is an opportunity for collaboration, for learning, for experiment, for  creativity. We don’t need to know all the answers; we don’t need to be the “best in show.” There are so many things I cannot do; there are many things that I can do well. Let’s make space for each other, to shine, to contribute, to celebrate.

In so many ways, the failure to collaborate, to communicate, to take risks, these are the real failures. Lack of skills, ability, or opportunity, or dare I say, success, all these can be remediated when a helping hand is both offered and received.

The truth be told—and a lesson learned—if I blow Wordle or Connections, this simply is not a big deal. As I continue to struggle to bring my organ playing back to its glory days, (and I regret what technique and memory I have lost), well, folks enjoy more of what I produce rather than despise it. Good for them; note to self; let it go!

Again, Dr. Edmondson: “We often think that our mistakes make us less worthy of connection, but the opposite is often true. “You don’t like people who are perfect,” she said. “You like the people who are honest and vulnerable.” 

Thanks to Lance Weisser for the idea and NYT article