It
seems difficult to admit the existence of a failure. Something so apparent and
so vague at the same time, is it even real or is it the matter of perception?
First
of all, there is a question of criteria. Who do we compare ourselves with? Is
it the world or is it just our best friend? Is it our Instagram guru with 500k
followers or is it just us? It seems that taking a humble approach and
measuring oneself with own self only may indicate the lack of ambition. Putting
personal actions and achievements in a larger frame of other people’s lives
seems non-sense. Keeping in mind the profound lyrics of Graham Nash’s ‘Wounded
Bird’, in the end ‘it’s with you you have to live.’
Then,
there is also an idea of ambition. If we aim really high, a relatively small
downfall can evoke a river of tears. What if we are more down-to-earth and our
mind can serenely accept a state of dissatisfaction. Some do not even try to
properly think the matter over, because as much as they evade work, they also
manage to escape sense of guilt or self-disappointment. Can anyone come to tell
us we failed? Obviously. A jury, a judge, our competitor carrying an advantage.
There is always someone to make a statement, but often we forget, the final
word on the functioning of our small universe will always belong to us. This
thought is quite empowering.
Finally,
the most basic question remains: what exactly is failure? Probably the contrary
of success, but there is no precise definition of that term either. If we are
simply incapable of mastering a certain skill or life circumstances do not
allow us to exploit the full potential, shall we consider it a defeat or an
untapped opportunity? As questions multiply, failure appears as a mere phrase
to describe a momentary weakness that we can accept or turn to our advantage.
Failure
is an intrinsic element of life. It is result of all the imperfections. Edith
Wharton once wrote: ‘Her failure was a useful preliminary to success’. Only under this condition,
I admit its existence.
