In all of our lives, failure has been far too constant a beast to encounter. Perhaps I am too young and inexperienced to tackle this topic, but as an overconfident, shortsighted young adult, I must attempt to do so regardless. My failures have hardly been life changing. Yes, I have failed a calculus test once or twice. Yes, I have lost more than enough chess games to fill a book with laughably pathetic scoresheets. But I have never felt the pain of being laid off, losing all my savings, or being evicted for missing rent. In all honesty, my failures are inconsequential in this large bowl of soup we call a universe, and as such, are not accurate indicators of my failures to come.
I am unashamedly dispassionate of failure. Since my youth, I have been told that failure is good, that I will learn, that it is only an obstacle to overcome. But life is messy and hard. Countless failures occur everyday, and contrary to popular belief, not all manage to fight and stand up. We have been spoon-fed the argument that failure will only lift us up in the end. Perhaps it is a bizarre outlook to take, but I do not celebrate, accept, or fear failure. In my humble opinion, failure is to be judiciously disregarded: enough to distance it from the mind, but not so far as to eliminate its benefits.
Again, this is mere conjecture from an inexperienced perspective. But empirically, disregarding failure, or viewing it dispassionately, may be the way to master it and make it work. In a personal experience, failure serves as a drive. I have not celebrated its sting, nor do I intend to. I refuse to fall prey to it and be devoured. But fearing it is also the wrong path to take, for without it, improvement will be few and far between.
Webster Dictionary bluntly defines failure as the “lack of success.” While many people can claim to have lacked success, few can claim to have truly experienced failure. For example, I have “failed” to transform into a purple hippopotamus by the age of twelve. In this endeavor, I have lacked success. Yet I do not consider this to be a failure. In my opinion, failure must have a goal behind it. There must almost be a sense of sorrow in experiencing failure, or a lack of joy and happiness. In any case, failure is a manifestation of a lack of success of a specific goal. Without the goal, true failure is not realized.
In my life, I have essayed to master failure, to conquer it, to make it work for me. Nevertheless, this seems to be an errand not easily accomplished. Emotions and dreams clutter the dreams of capturing failure. Perhaps failure is simply meant to be a catalyst to greatness, a method of motivation, or a jarring glimpse of the cruelty of the real world. But I can’t buy that. It needs to mean more than just a means to an end. Failure, like other experiences, is indeed a beautiful thing. But when we can understand, harness, and channel it into a positive force, it might cease to be relevant.
