Over the last few weeks, I have written about how not being
chosen propelled me towards wrappers.
I have reflected on parts of my history and revealed
Last week, while perusing a sale table in Barnes and Noble,
I stumbled upon this gem:
I smiled, laughed out loud enough to prompt a mother and child to rush past me.
I flipped through the innocent looking pastel pages of equations and diagrams which had
stymied me in my past.
A thick workbook represented failure to me.
It reminded me of my pride in being unwilling to admit my need for help.
Perhaps if I purchased this book and worked hard enough,
I could learn that which
had seemed out of reach,
I would be healed.
The failure would be erased and I would be rendered free.
I could literally close the book on the physics
chapter in my life.
Releasing my grip, I set the book down,
took out my phone and captured
Revisiting my physics story has helped me to
view failing differently.
You see as much as we imagine no one has ever
crashed and burned like we have,
failure is universal.
Most of us rarely reveal ourselves to others by
boasting of our latest epic fails.
Yet when we give voice to our less than stellar
moments, we diminish our failing’s power to rule.
Physics has opened up conversations with
others who suddenly feel empowered to recount their own
If you were to witness the sharing of failure from afar,
those sacred viewed moments would be a collection of
heads nodding and hands thrust over hearts.
You might not be able to make out the words or
even guess at each person’s scenario,
but for a faint steady current
coursing between two masters in falling short.
I am not sure if that would be considered a closed
I just know inviting others into our
failures always fills a dark
corner with light.