"If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start."
— Charles Bukowski
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Ah, failure – that dreadful spectre that is dreaded the world over. The embarrassment, the shame, the self-judgement … it all sits heavy, and it’s something that comes round for tea more times than we’d like.
It’s part of the spiritual path, always has been, the sin of missing the mark, of falling short of your aspiration. But what truly makes it part of the path and part of life is not getting to a place where you no longer fall short, but where you can stop resisting missing the mark. Where you’re happy you gave it a shot and want to get back up and keep giving it a shot.
You see?
It’s never about the thing, the external failure — it is always and forever about your judgement of the thing.
And so, to that theme: (here comes one of my favourite questions) …
What if? What if you haven’t failed?
What if you’ve simply stumbled upon a wall a bit higher, a puzzle a bit trickier, a puddle deeper than your boots are tall?
Then this isn’t failure. This is life tapping you on the shoulder and saying, "Fancy levelling up, my dear?"
You see, we often confuse failure with being tested. We’re so eager to avoid looking foolish, so desperate to sidestep discomfort, that we slap the label of “failure” on anything that stings the ego. But that’s like calling a caterpillar a failed butterfly. You’re not done yet! You’re just wriggling through a tricky bit.
The truth is, every challenge – every misstep, every miscalculation, every moment where you think, “Oh, bugger” – all of these are an invitation to keep going, not to stop and hide away. These moments are where growth happens, this is the ground where leaps occur.
And not just grow in the boring, sensible, incremental way. I mean the kind of growth that makes your future self raise a salute and say, "Good on you for not giving up."
But here’s the catch: it’s not automatic.
Growth is optional. It’s a choice. You can look at that big, unwieldy obstacle and decide, “Well, this is where my story ends.” You can let it win. You can decide it’s a sign that you haven’t learnt anything. Or, you can roll up your sleeves, dust off your pride, and say, “Alright, let’s do this – but with a bit more style this time.”
And style is everything.
Not the superficial kind, mind you – not the sort that’s all expensive shoes and a crisp hat. I mean the kind of style that means you approach life’s trials with a wink and a grin, knowing it’s a game, knowing that life is happening for you. The grace to trip, fall, and get back up with your sense of humour intact. To learn, not just how to tackle the obstacle, but how to dance with it.
Because it’s only failure if you don’t come back. If you slink off into the shadows, nursing your wounded pride, and never try again. But if you return – armed with wisdom, grit, and maybe even a touch of cheek – then it’s not failure. It’s a plot twist. A chapter in your tale where the protagonist grows a bit wiser, a bit stronger, and perhaps, if they’re lucky, a bit kinder and more patient to themselves.
So don’t fear the hard stuff. It’s not your enemy. It’s your training ground to bypass the ego and its false pride. It's so you can learn you will stumble, that’s part of doing hard things, and so embrace that. Just don’t let it win. Do it again, with style.
Have a good time with this, and let me know how you get on.
Go well,
Arjuna