Failure School: All the Things You Never Learned

I just googled the definition of “failure.” Here’s the most comprehensive and concise meaning I found: “The omission of expected or required action.” Sounds pretty benign, right? So matter of fact?

The brand of fear I’ve experienced along the way as it pertains to failure has been a far cry from this bland “omission” situation. Quite the contrary, it’s been a crippling and immobilizing force that has stunted growth, joy, and relationships. In fact, I imagine you’ve bought into a similar lie at some point along: “My worth and value are a direct result of my level of success.” I’ve heard the record spin round and round in my office. I’ve seen its death grip on friends and family alike. As a culture, we are terrified of failure.

I’m fascinated by this unruly expectation we place on ourselves to avoid failure. After all, WD-40, bubble wrap, and pacemakers are all inventions conceived through “failure.” I’m fairly certain those guys are not still sulking over why their original ideas didn’t pan out the way they’d hoped. No, they all own islands, strange looking outfits, and private jets.

In light of this, I want to pepper your thoughts with some key insights that have made a lynchpin shift I in my understanding and approach to failure.

1) Expectation is a set-up

The operative word in the above definition is “expect” not “omission” as it pertains to our study here. Why? Well, simply put, because it’s the subjective that we tend to personalize, not theobjective facts. If we could see failure through the lens of objective curiosity as opposed to an extension of who we are, we would be able to live out of a much softer narrative. For example, “I either deliver or I don’t, and my life’s worth and value aren’t tied up in that slice of history.” Now that’s freedom from the fall!

We’re so tightly wound and attached to the narrow expectation of who we should be and how we should perform that we lose sight of the incredibly vast and curious horizons that result in a deviation.

2) Resilience matters more than outcome

I’ve bombed so many performances it might lead you to wonder if I had a screw loose as I continued pursuing music early on. For some ungodly reason, I kept going even though it felt like cruel and unusual self-harm. Strangely, no one ever told me I sucked or bombed it or that I should definitely not quit my day job. I only received encouragement and kindness. I realize, we are in the South, yet I’m a pretty good read, and they seemed genuine. Building those resilience muscles eventually led to lots of bigger opportunities.

Have you ever watched a toddler on the cusp of walking? First of all, it’s high and hilarious art. Also, the ONLY way their tiny muscles are made stronger is by falling and getting up—over and over and over again. And we “ooh” and “ahh” and gawk like grown chimpanzees about to be fed at the circus in response. Go figure. Instead of asking the paralyzing question, “How can I avoid failure?”, we need to ask, “How can I better practice resilience?”

3) The real fear is the feeling

So why is it so terrifying to fail? I believe it’s because we are afraid of the way we will treat ourselves on the other side. We’re really afraid to feel our feelings of disappointment, embarrassment, and shame. However, these are all valid emotions we will absolutely rub up against along the way! Wouldn’t it be better to learn to relate to them a bit differently?

Like the poem says, nearly every shred of our fears live in the stories we make up about them, our imagination. Our fears are rarely tethered to reality, yet we drive the shame ship around as a result. We’re typically our own worst enemy, not the failures we experience. 

Sure, the outcome is humbling at first, but by elevating our belief about failure, we construct a new brain pathway or go-to storyline that facilitates self-compassion instead of self-flagellation. 

We don’t evolve by playing it safe in a mole hole, but by staying present at the crossroads of failure and opportunity.

4) There are two kinds of failure

Before you go poking holes in my sunshine, I’ll clarify an exception to the rule. There are two types of failure, and I'm referring to failure as something necessary for growth and success.

There is all-in failure and half-ass failure. All-in failure is when we’ve shown up, given our all, and fully engaged in the pursuit at hand, yet for whatever reason didn’t quite make the cut. The passion and effort are there, but the outcome is not—not yet anyway.

Half-ass failure, as you might imagine, is missing the mark without giving it a fighting, bleeding-heart chance. We’ve all been there, yet it’s not a helpful pattern as it ultimately becomes a self-fulling prophecy. Oftentimes, this is simply a good indicator that we may not really want what we’re limping for and a redirect is necessary.

I’ll be coming in hot this Thursday with a very interesting practical tool for you. Be looking for that as you won’t want to miss it. For now, I leave you with the words of the man who’s been quoted as many times as Oprah. He’s a mixed bag of courage, success, excess, bull-headed stubbornness, and legend all in one. He’s also a man very acquainted with failure. His stories and words have a vibrant life of their own, well after his last breath.

“Success is not final. Failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts.

- Winston Churchill

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

#failforward, #designyourlife, #winstonchurchill, #resilience, #couragetofall

Summertime & the Livin' is Easy

I did a little experiment over the past two weeks. You may have noticed you didn’t hear from me. (At least I hope you noticed!) 

I tagged along with my husband to Maui as he had some meetings down there. This didn’t suck. The meetings fell right before our two-year wedding anniversary, so we made a little vacation out of it. I had never been to Maui, nor Hawaii for that matter, and it was simply stunning—paradise for sure. All the rumors are true.

That wasn't the experiment, though.

Here’s the experiment: I decided I would give myself permission to live way outside the lines during the nearly two weeks I was away. This meant if I wanted to sleep in, I’d sleep in. If I wanted to lay by the pool and drink fruity drinks with umbrellas in them, I did. If I wanted to go for a long walk, I’d go. If I wanted to eat french fries and banana bread for lunch, bon appétit. I didn’t work…at all. I let the meditation slide as well as writing and daily exercise and all the things that keep me feeling grounded.

Side note: I have a tendency to want to be overly productive, and this idea of rest feels more like a dirty four-letter word than a blessing.  Also, I don’t like to sit still very much. I can’t remember the last time I went on vacation for more than one week and there wasn’t some type of work involved. For example, last summer we went to the beach for a week and instead of frolicking in the ocean, I spent nearly three-to-four hours a day writing copy for my website or editing a podcast.  Then I’d go for a run. Then I’d go sit on the beach with a book for around thirty minutes until I got bored again.

I realize this is not a way to live and there’s not even the faintest whiff of balance baked in. I’m very much working on this, hence the experiment.

Needless to say, this experiment was a failure. I managed to finish, but barely. I didn’t feel like myself. I felt completely disconnected and discombobulated…all the “dis” words. Don’t judge me.

Also, please believe me, I am over-the-top grateful for the time away in such a magical place! We had the most fun. Yet, I learned a crucial lesson from my “research" (besides the fact that I’m a work in progress): rest looks different for everyone and doesn’t mean we disconnect from ourselves. 

This is important for you and I as we roll into the summer months. Why? Because I strongly believe we can develop the summer blues just as easily as we can the winter ones. The cause isn’t necessarily a lack of vitamin D though; it’s a sneaking and oh-so-subtle disconnection from purpose. I say this a lot, and it’s worth repeating: the opposite of depression isn’t happiness, it’s purpose.

It can be so easy to disconnect from purpose and the structures that promote a sense of grounding when June rolls around, especially if you work for yourself or have a non-traditional work schedule. School’s out, travel ramps up, and porch hangs abound. It’s a glorious time to connect with friends and family, yet it’s also a ripe time to let self-care slide among other things.

With this shift at hand, I have three simple reminders to put in your back pocket as you embrace the lazy days of summer:

Know thy rest
Do your own experiment in order to better understand what you need in terms of rest. This doesn’t mean follow my extreme lead and swing hard in the other direction. For example, I feel most rested when I’m tuned into desire and filling up my creativity tank doing things like exploring new places, cooking for friends, or reading a good book. I get anxious when I watch Netflix in the middle of the day.

Your version may look much different and include periods of totally unplugging and taking catnaps in the afternoon. Neither way is right or wrong. The important thing is to find what you need in order to facilitate renewal in the season you’re in.

Dogs need fences
After about two days of roaming about in the wild and wooly unknown parts of the neighborhood, chances are your dog will miss the safety and consistency of your fenced-in backyard.  We, for the most part, are the same. Structure is a good thing and truly helps us stay connected to what we deep down desire, which I believe to be connection and purpose. Sure, we all need to get off the grid at times, yet consistency over time builds emotional resilience, and I have a strong suspicion you are here because you want to experience more of that. I know I do.

Give yourself some grace
In the end, the most important thing you can give yourself (and others) is grace and compassion. More than structure, more than purpose, more than self-care—you name it. Self-compassion and radical acceptance beget desired outcome much faster than a fear-based need to control. I love this quote:

“Where we think we need more self-discipline, we usually need more self-love.”
- Tara Mohr

I sincerely hope you’re easing into this summer season with equal parts desire and grace…and a heavy dash of amusement.

Love & Gratitude,
Katie

Listen Closely - Your Life is Trying to Talk

I'm a big advocate for the sacred process of finding your voice—and courageously learning to use it.

In my experience, slowly crossing the threshold of confidence into the land of self-compassion and acceptance gave me this newfound freedom and excitement to be heard and seen.

It’s kind of like waking up on Christmas morning as a kid, getting that one cherished toy you’d been asking for but thought your folks probably forgot…but then they came through. All you want to do is keep it close and show it off.  You love everyone, even your younger brother. The world is a beautiful place. You’re so proud and you can’t stop talking about it.

It may annoy people for a minute, and that’s okay, they’ll get over it…they love you too.

What I quickly learned along the way is this: in order to truly find your voice and speak from that sacred heart space, you must first learn to listen really closely and often.

I love what Parker Palmer says in one of my all-time favorite books on finding your calling, Let Your Life Speak (a must read if you haven’t already…super short too.)

He says, “Before I can tell my life what I want to do with it, I must listen to my life telling me who I am.” 

Sounds esoteric, right?  I actually think it’s us who overcomplicate things.

To create, we must get still and present. We must lean into the unknown. We must…listen.

Just as a flower grows and blooms from a tiny seed, you and I have everything we need to thrive locked safely inside us. Sure, we may need to nurture that part of us with inspiration and encouragement, but I assure you, it’s all in there.

As a species, humans are created to thrive and succeed, not to merely survive. Our creative imaginations are what sets us apart from other species. Inside of you, there is a creative mechanism that is fully capable of getting you from merely existing to succeeding.

That’s right, you get to create the life you love.

What happens so often though, is that we get lazy, want to be told what to do, and as a result, autopilot through life. No wonder we wake up mid-thirties or forties with a serious purpose deficiency and a bad back in search of a pill or a promise that will make us feel alive again.  

We’ve not been listening. We’ve been busy, hustling, fitting in.

So we’ve got a spectrum here. You may have recently unlocked this stunning, shiny voice of yours and you really like using it. The test drive is intoxicating. Or, you may be completely shut down, confusing everyone else’s demands and desires with your own. You’re exhausted and maybe even a bit resentful.  

Either way, the next best step is to slow down, take several very deep breaths, and simply listen. Feel your feet on the floor and your spine growing up from your seat. Notice the sensations inside your body; they’re talking alright. Give the tension a little time-out; you can pick her up in just a minute.

This is your true self. This is the space free of ego. This is where, with some practice, your life will speak to you in profound and sweet ways. This is the power of presence inside of you. It’s the magnificent Motherload. Let’s give it a listen.

Love & Gratitude,
Katie
xoxo

The Enneagram & Your Favorite Mistake

I grew up worshiping Sheryl Crow. She embodied brilliant writer, instrumentalist, singer, and entertainer all in one while looking really strong and sure of herself along the way.  

While major labels were throwing hundreds of thousands of dollars at production budgets for artists back in the early 90’s, she managed to make pure magic with 40k on her debut recordTuesday Night Music Club.  

I see her from time to time around town, typically in a Starbucks, and have a full-on girl crush attack, geek out moment. Thankfully, I’ve never been a total train wreck and embarrassed myself those handful of times, though I’ve come scarily close. (I have a much different story about standing behind Micheal Stipe in a local coffee shop. I’ll save that for a blog post about overcoming humiliation.)

I recently listened to an interview with her on NPR and learned of a much different, fragile side of Ms. Crow. She admitted a lifelong battle with self-doubt and depression. She even went so far as to say this larger than life persona she’d created over the years felt paper thin, and contrary to the reality of her own broken self-image.

Guess what? You and I are no different (well, besides the arsenal of Grammy’s perhaps). We learned early on which masks looked really good on us that would also double as a protective shield. They would help us show up and be seen on this daunting stage called life.  

After all, the word personality is derived from the Greek word, “persona”, which means “mask”.  

We all wear certain masks of personality to protect ourselves from rejection and failure—to be liked. 

Your personality is NOT a bad thing either! It’s one of the loveliest things about you.  

Things gets pitchy though when we over-identify with that mask and eventually lose touch with the reality of who we are—the authentic essential self.  

I believe the Enneagram is one of the best, most accessible tools for self-understanding. It serves as a roadmap, guiding us on the journey of self-discovery and relational growth. If you’re new to this tool and want an introductory peek into its wisdom, this online indicator is a great place to start.

We make one whopping mistake with the Enneagram, though.  Just as we over-identify with certain personality traits or masks we wear, we can also hugely over-identify with the classic and obtuse characteristics of our specific number or “type.”  

We attach to the safe construct of this number as opposed to allowing it to help us “unlearn” certain behaviors that got us into trouble in the first place.  

For example, when I first discovered I was a four on the Enneagram (the Romantic), it was like someone had given me a handbook, or a language, for all the reasons I do what I do. The melancholic tendencies, the shame, the need to be special, the obsession with aesthetic, all of it! I thought I was just crazy all those years!?! (Ballot's still out there).  

Finally, I had insight into the complex story I’d been living out of

Initially though, instead of allowing this insight to help me shed the unhelpful parts of my personality, I took the information and completely indulged in it. Instead of “I’m Katie, and I identify with type four on the Enneagram,” it was, “I’m a four. Oh, and my name is Katie.” 

Are you tracking?  

In essence, if you are letting your type define you as opposed to allowing it to unlock the beauty and nuance of your purest, truest self, you’re still hiding in a box.  

Don’t worry, it’s my favorite mistake too. I camped out in Four Land for a good five years before I understood how much bigger and more powerful the Enneagram really is.  

It doesn’t want to type you just to leave you there. It wants to guide you home to wholehearted living without the entrapments of all those fearful masks.  

Here's the thing: You are in a league of your own. You're more than a number or a type on any personality indicator. Thankfully though, this gift of the Enneagram can support you in discovering all the intricacy, uniqueness, and power that lies outside the box and inside of you.  I'm pretty thrilled I get to support you as well. 

Love & Gratitude,

Katie
xoxo

How to Unlock Your Inner Picasso (Without Lifting a Brush)

I remember going to the Louvre in Paris about 15 years ago. It was surreal and magical all at once. I kept pinching myself to make sure A) I wasn’t dreaming and B) I was allowed to be in there. I didn’t feel worthy or something. I’m certain I looked like a total Parisian poser of sorts in all black and a bad beret. I probably had a pack of Parliaments in my purse just for kicks.  

Museums always stir up deep things inside me. Sure, the beauty and story behind every work of art opens up a whole new dimension waiting to be explored. Yet, perhaps the most moving layer of it all is the one behind the canvas; it’s the heartbeat of the artist I sense still speaking and desperate to be heard. It’s broken, tortured at times, misunderstood, and full of impossible dreams and starry ideas.  

There’s a world of vibrant story inside every masterpiece. The journey from each curious conception to its prestigious display has been a glorious and hellish one all at once. I suppose that makes every museum a universe of telling-tales—of palpable possibility.  

To be clear, I totally suck as a visual artist. I distinctly remember taking art class in elementary school and being highly aware of how inadequate I felt compared to classmates who seemed to draw perfect, concentric circles straight out of the womb. They also had pretty handwriting and non-frizzy hair. Go figure.  

As I have absolutely nothing to offer you in the way of painting stuff, I do have something you may deem worth trying on for size or at least reading. It’s less of a how-to and more of a concept I’ve been marinating in lately. I’m the middle man here to pass it along.  

I believe the reason we are stirred by anything at all be it a painting, a song, a Tedtalk, a book, or nature is that it strikes a chord within us. It speaks to truth we’ve already got living inside, just waiting to speak—to bloom.  

The reason I weep when I stand in front of Van Gogh’s “Irises” or Picasso’s “Women” is not because I particularly love irises or am drawn to Picasso’s color palette. I weep because I know a similar gravity of longing for self-expression and beauty that makes no sense and simply won’t be silenced. I must give it skin or voice or breath.  

Artists and laborers are similar in that they both use their hands, their skills, and the tools necessary to complete a project. However, an artist is vastly different than a laborer in that she creates with the entire language of her being: heart, mind, body, and soul. The laborer wants to finish the job. The artist is the job. She is fully present, wildly courageous, and draws from a deep well of emotional connection.

So what the heck does this have to do with you and me?  

It has everything to do with you and me.  

For starters, it’s a roadmap telling us the way we should go. Those things that move and stir you do so because like attracts like. They speak truth that resonates with insight and awareness planted deep within your heart. To creatively thrive (and yes, you ARE creative), you must be willing to listen to the cacophony of your emotions, the voice of your heart.  

If that sounds tough or esoteric, bear with me. Really, all you are doing is responding to the uniqueness and beauty that’s inside you. Sure, it’s often messy, uncertain, and highly imperfect and yet, no work of art was ever born out of perfectionism. Rather, the courage to listen…and simply respond.  

That being said, we have this incredible invitation to bring the totality of our being into the smallest, most mundane aspects of life.  

Artists must be awake to inspiration, wonder, and beauty in order to fuel the path they’ve chosen. Guess what? You and I must as well.  

The story of you is a masterpiece still being written. You get to write the next page. What will you create out of the depth of your desires?

I’ll leave you with two questions:

What moves you and speaks to you lately?  

How will you wake up and respond to that creative call to courage?

Love & Gratitude,

Katie
xoxo

P.S. Of course, I want to hear your answers!  Let’s keep this conversation going…