A year ago, my husband took up golf. He had never played the sport before and when he had to listen to his golfing friends’ stories he would have an obvious look of boredom. But, amid lockdown and little clarity as to when outdoor activities might resume, the only place for fresh air and exercise was the golf course, so he decided to try. In little time he was hooked.
It hasn’t been an easy year from where I sit, far from it. I’d say that the year has been filled with epic failures. Failures that looked like: shouting expletives into the wind on the golf course, packing up the clubs mid-game, and storming off (only to reach home, pack them up again and drive to the range, determined to “fix the problem with the driver”), failures that have resulted in broken windows in my garage and near-death misses for my spectating dogs.
Every day, (yes he plays golf every day) I listen to the stories of which holes plagued his game. How many balls he dropped. How his elbow hurt, and how the game is a never-ending complexity of changing conditions that challenge his technique and mind.
There is also another part to the stories he tells. In the retelling of the day’s events, there are other golfers he encounters on the course who pass on tips and tweaks to help and encourage him with his game. These tips he soaks up, often going back to ask if he can play a 9 with them on another day. As I sit and listen, I witness how he extracts small nuggets of ideas and inspirations from within the frustration he has felt that day. Each tale becomes less about the score and more about the discovery.
I’ve noticed that what he does amazingly well is isolate every bad score, and every failure as a moment in time. He has no emotional attachment to it, it happened, and he moves on. It does not define his self-worth or his capacity for potential. Instead, each failure is purely a piece of data from which he explores trends and decides what he will try next.
Today only a year later, he scored his best score, on par or even surpassing his friends that have been playing since their childhood, and it’s still not good enough. He is determined to keep failing.
Failure can define YOU, or failure can define a moment in TIME.
Ask yourself, when is the last time that you failed at something? How did it feel? Were you able to examine and explore it until a discovery emerged? Were you able to reframe it?
In recent workshops, I asked executive teams and groups of Grade 9 teenagers the same question. How do you feel about failing?
The answers were remarkedly similar. FAILURE is not something that either teenagers or executives like to discuss. The experiences associated with failure are 80% awful, the words associated with failure are 99% negative, and the mindsets associated with failure are 100% limiting*. (*subjective data)
As a learning designer and facilitator, I have a unique vantage point. I have permission to be inquisitive, to ask challenging and provocative questions that unearth beliefs. First, I create experiences where people will fail. Then I get to witness as people experiment, explore and iterate. Finally, I help them name the arising emotions and reshape and reframe what they believe as true.
As a practicing Time to Think Facilitator, we aim to create Thinking Environments when working with others, in groups, or as individuals. Integral to the Thinking Environment is the understanding that there are dynamics and emotions that either encourage or inhibit thinking. Thinking inhibitors include ridicule, perfectionism, self-doubt, intimidation, and criticism. There is an obvious connection between thinking inhibitors and the feelings and words that I hear associated with failure. This connection suggests that we cannot think best for ourselves in the presence of failure.
These recent workshops have also revealed how young we are when our mindsets around failure are shaped; early in our teenage years, we see failure as something to be avoided, something frowned upon, and something embarrassing. We feel that failure is letting ourselves down and letting others down. As leaders, failure reveals us as imposters, damaging our self-worth and possibly resulting in severe consequences.
Yet, we all know that only through failure do we achieve success. Failure is the story of every athlete and every inventor.
Each time I participate in a conversation about failure, different dimensions and connections emerge from the conversation (see list below). One you can always predict is the connection between teamwork and failure. Most often, someone will share the perspective that it is safer to fail in sport than in other areas of life. Why is this? Why is failing easier in sport than at work, your career, or your life?
Here are a few of the reasons I have heard.
In sport, we are often a part of a team; sharing the failure with others seems to make it less defining. It does not define ME; it represents the collective WE. It has less impact on my self-worth. The construct of a game suggests that there will be a singular winner, removing the expectation that everyone will win. We expect that someone, that one team, will fail. Plus, in sports, we usually get another chance. There will be another Olympics, another championship, another shot at the medal. These dynamics make failure somewhat less emotional, less detrimental, and easier to discuss and dissect.
On the other hand, there is less forgiveness or acceptance of failures at work. Failure can make or break careers. Failures can come with extreme responsibility and consequences for leaders. Failures can mean loss of life or livelihood, and this is not something that any leader wants to carry. When leaders fail, it suggests that they are less deserving of trust and the leadership position. As leaders, others expect they have earned this position because they can navigate failure, know the answers, and can prevent mishaps. When leaders fail, it exposes them as a fraud. It reveals their vulnerability and unveils the less-than-perfect version of themselves that they aspire to be.
Failure defined our survival when we lived in villages and as part of tribes. Failing to hunt meant we did not eat. Failing to protect meant we did not survive. While the consequences of failing today may, in most cases, be less definitive, this does raise an interesting question. How does our ancestral relationship with failure influence our current day assumptions and mindsets? And what does this mean for reframing failure?
We know that a healthy relationship with failure builds resilience and unearths the courage and determination to push through when challenges are at their hardest. We know that through failure, we develop grit, we strengthen our growth mindset, and we make discoveries. We know that failure takes courage, and courage is a trait that we desire in leaders. Yet knowing all of this does not make failure any easier or more acceptable.
Is it possible to live a life where we thrive and seek out failure for our own betterment? This requires reflecting on a few questions:
The Knowing Question — “what do we need to know to feel safe to fail?”
The Doing Question — “where can we currently nurture and practice failing in our lives?”
The Being Question — “how might we cultivate and encourage, in ourselves, our children, and others, a healthy relationship with failure?”
The Living Question — “is it possible to reframe our beliefs around failure so as to blossom in the environment of rejection therapy (love this video!)?”
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” — Winston Churchill
Recently my father defined failure “as an unexpected result on the path to success.” It’s not the first dictionary definition you find, but it positions failure well. Additionally, it highlights a difference, a distinction, between failing and failure.
Failure happens if and when we give up. If we let an event(s) or experience(s) damage our confidence so severely that we no longer can find the motivation to try again. Instead, we can isolate the moment and keep going. In that case, this transforms the moment from a failure into the ongoing process and practice of failing. When we are failing, each moment, event, or experience is an unexpected result on the path to success.
This shift encourages us to have a different relationship with failure, to free ourselves from the associated fears. It suggests that we can embrace and nurture failures for their future benefits. It challenges the notion that failure is something to be avoided and hidden and instead reframes it as something to approach with curiosity and practice. With this mindset, we can develop healthier, more productive relationships with failure and leverage the impact of failure on teamwork, innovation, problem-solving, creativity, and success.
Different Dimensions of Failure:
Failure and the Ego: How does failure validate or destroy our perceived self-worth?
Failure and Teamwork: Is failure different when we are part of a team or a group? And if so, how?
Failure and Thinking: How do our feelings about failure affect our ability to think at our best?
Failure and Assumptions: How do our assumptions and mental filters affect our perspective on failure?
Failure and Feelings: How does failure affect our confidence and insecurities?
Failure and Fear: What happens as a result of fear of failure?
Failure and Success: How do past successes affect our willingness to fail?
Failure and the Environment: Are we willing to fail in any environment or only where we feel safe? How do we create safe environments for failure?
Failure and Prior Experiences: How have previous failures been processed? Can they be leveraged, or do they linger, affecting our willingness to fail in the future?
