The archetypal hero, in one of the many stages of his heroic journey, must fall into a deep pit of despair before overcoming his obstacles and reaching his final goal. An archetypal hero, not unlike most middle class Americans, has to deal with not only the expectations of his mentors and peers, but with his own expectations. No wonder he is destined to encounter failure. We see the same formula over and over and are taught to ignore the absurdity. Does the cycle ever end? If so, with whom?
When I was four years old, I came up with some fool-proof plans for having a good time. These plans often resulted in scraped knees, scars, and bruised elbows. On one of these occasions, I easily convinced myself that a makeshift tablecloth cape was all I needed to fly. In my mind I had wings; I had propellers; I had a great idea.
As it turned out, this great idea to launch myself into flight from the fireplace mantel only earned me a black eye and later a tear-shaped scar. Worst of all, nobody but the ever-steady coffee table, on which I bashed my head, witnessed me take flight; they only saw the crash and burn.
We tell ourselves that we learn from our failures. We learn to fear our mistakes enough to ensure we never make them again. As it turns out, hitting my head didn’t make me fearful of the fall. Instead, the next time I jumped, I simply fell more gracefully, avoiding the coffee table on the way down. At the time, I didn’t realize the significance in my childish perseverance, but reflection has got me thinking – what if failure isn’t such a bad thing?
A friend of mine, studying to become a music teacher, mentioned that failure is important to her. It makes her more empathetic to students who might have recently taken up a new instrument. We can look at our mistakes and vow to never make them again, but unfortunately, we can’t realistically expect to lead an error-less life. We can expect, however, to fail with a little more style and grace each time.
Undeniably so, the years that followed my coffee table incident brought disappointment and failures. C’est la vie. I treated the first few trips and stumbles – not making the varsity team, not getting the big solo, not getting into a prestigious liberal arts college – as an archetypal hero would treat the unwanted guidance of her friends and family – with denial to include failure as part of myself. It’s easy to “brush it off,” as we’re often told to do, but nowhere along the line was I promised life would be easy. How many times did I have to fall before I realized the cause? I learned – or rather, didn’t learn until much later – that denying any incidence of failure only denied me an opportunity to grow.
