Falling forward to success
My college roommate used to say we should “fall forward to success.” I never really knew what he meant. We spend so much time trying not to fall. We struggle as children to first crawl, then walk, then run. And when we do fall, we get up, but often find ourselves battered or scraped–and many times upset. Falling, as we know, is part of the game of the mystery of being human. But, let’s face it, who wants to fail? Falling forward to success sounds noble enough, but honestly, how?
Good question.
Recently I learned to ski. On day one I found myself on the bunny hill, amid 7 and 8-year olds. They deftly glided by me, as my 33-year old body struggled to stay upright. I fell, often. I was twice their height and 1/50th their skill level. I grew tired, and bruised. My ego was challenged, too. My skis were crossed like pixie sticks and my legs tangled in the air. I wanted to stop, but I kept going. While I had given up learning to ski years ago when I was fourteen, this time something inside me–and my coach, Manu–helped me own each fall and continue down the gentle hill.
Manu smiled each time I fell. Not in a judgmental way, but in the way that a trusted advisor knows that falling is compulsory, a required part of the learning curve. He cheered me on and encouraged me to keep at it. My fear said I should turn around and climb back up the mountain. But I finally realized there was no going back up (the slope of the mountain made this next to impossible). And so my only choice was to figure out a way down toward the lodge. My options were limited, and so my mind had a choice to make: live in fear about the prospect of tumbling down the mountain, or embrace the idea of getting to the bottom. I chose the latter. Slowly, I began to understand the importance of leaning into the fall, leaning into the fear that we so often pool around our daily lives. So, gradually I abandoned my fear of leaning downhill (which is counterintuitive to us, especially those like me with a fear of heights!). I reached forward, bent my knees, and accepted this falling as a way to safety, to success.
Each day I continued to practice falling. And I challenged myself to stay present in each moment of the fall. The more I embraced the fall, the more I found I wasn’t falling at all, but swallowing any fear, facing it with fierce, courageous passion. I crouched forward, ate the snow with my skis, and kept my face forward, parallel with the face of the mountain. I was getting better! Slowly and surely the fear yielded to fun!
By the fifth day, Manu had helped me progress drastically. He brought me from the bunny hill, to–get this–a black diamond run, among the most difficult of ski runs on any mountain. Sure, I began to master the physicality of skiing, but that was just a speck of the gift I developed: Over my week of learning, of falling forward, I began to conquer fears inside me. I challenged that part of me that didn’t believe, that didn’t love. And suddenly, there I was, careening down the mountain, having grown and with a renewed sense of self. Living out of love, not fear. Living by falling, forward and unabashedly, accepting the way down was quite literally the way ‘up’.
I gave in that week, to my fear, to my ego’s desires of control, to learning to love in a new way that fostered growth and self-confidence. So next time you trip, realize you may really be falling forward. Let it happen. Doing this, you might just like the way success finds you.
