‘F’ is for…
If there is one thing I know for sure about being human it’s this:
“You will never get to the point that you no longer make mistakes, that you no longer fail.” -John C. Maxwell
We all miss the mark, but invest in protecting our image with titles and cover stories detailing our current chapter of importance. The number of likes following our profiles and zeros attached to our bank statements rarely, if ever, accounts for the full cost of the inevitable little devil called failure.
I make mistakes every God-given day, but invest in opportunities to sell you a best-selling success story at the cost of being fully human. It starts small with an opening line announcing “I’m fine” and leaves the truth lost in countless edits and numerous run-ons that never get past the first draft of sharing how each page beginning from Monday through Sunday has a plot twist going wrong.
Look, everybody has something. Our society spends more time writing #blessed #grateful ways to hide #stressed #painful stuff on the inside despite an obvious knowing we’re all failing at something. There’s an art to failing that makes headlines but not the everyday post, which shortchanges our knowledge and craving for true connection.
I sent 66 more books on their titled way to Amazon today. I no longer have netflix minutes to spend because I’ve replaced them with yard sales and thrifting for the next book at places like Goodwill just to get out of the house and stop living like a joy-stealing leech. I’ve been failing at finding joy again.
And 66 books cost $104.86 with a potential return on investment (ROI) of…
I was just notified 18 books were not worth enough to list.
That puts me at a 73% average listing success rate this round.
A C is not an F, but 18 mistakes cost $, time, and a brief shock to my confidence.
18 failures today means 18 less tomorrow if I choose to understand instead of find shame. The more you know the less you need. And the more I can find ways to fail and account for why then there’s less of a reason to stay still when I can fly.
“The last time you failed, did you stop trying because you failed, or did you fail because you stopped trying?”
fly far from
I’m fit to fall
P.S. I found my wallet.
Bezos y Besos.