1 Minute Read.
No one ever tells you how many failed attempts until you're a success.
Everyone will always tell you about the image of what that success should be even when we don't know how many failures it takes to get there.
You work hard at something, riding the momentum fueled by passion and devotion when suddenly everything stalls, giving you whiplash as it brakes.
You're left standing in the middle of a deserted road holding a wheel attached to nothing as you gaze at a sunset that makes you realize you didn't even know it was that late.
You try to decide if to keep moving forward on foot towards a future that looks hazy, or pivot to back to that shed you saw a few miles ago.
You decide to turn around picking up the pieces where they fell apart, working on a puzzle that points to blame: It would have worked better if . . . if I could have had more time . . . I shouldn't have done this . . .
As you walk back to your shelter for the night, lugging all the broken segments, each step getting heavier by the gravity of regret, an itch of criticism for even trying, and a fiery shame burning your chest, you begin to question the purpose of carrying all your broken sections?
Why would they need shelter?
These broken and burnt bits will only take up leg space during a time when you need to stretch.
You decide to lay them down on the side of the road like an index of bad ideas in the shape of the vessel that failed. You walk away.
The next morning, you feel it's a good idea to visit your bad ideas memorial and bid it one last farewell.
You arrive at where you think you left them, but they are no longer there.
So you blame yourself for coming up with the idea of walking back to say goodbye to bad ideas which left before you could.
You realize you’re standing on the same road but with different sunlight this time. A future that’s not outlined but it’s also not hazy can be seen for miles.
I learned this trying to piece together a ton of broken ideas I was hoarding on life support, against my better judgment as a project manager.
Ideas are like a microcosmos of possibilities, and if they evolve out of their shell, it doesn't mean they've fallen apart, you grab the pieces that worked, the ones that are still alive, and you archive the ones that crapped because just like trees, ideas also need a little bit of fertilizer.