A spoonful of my own

A spoonful of my own

There is a relationship between risk/innovation/mistakes/failure.

I failed last week at something I wanted to go well. I spent all of Saturday in my head beating myself up…

Waste of time. Doesn’t make me better. Self indulgent.  I’m sitting there at a campsite with 20 or so kids and distracted in my head by something I “tried” that did not work the way I wanted it to.

Innovation only happens on the heels of the things that didn’t go well. Yet, I am seduced by doing things the same so I don’t feel like an ass when it doesn’t work out.

I fear I might become my own little strip mall.  Vanilla and repeatable.

When traveling I purposely avoid strip mall eating and instead try to find something untried and potentially scary.   I risk my evening tummy for an avoidance of the known and average.    25% of the time I am pleased, 15% of the time I get sick and the other percentage no change.

Risk was easier, BB.  (before baby)  Now that I am the sole financial support of this little guy and his Harvard college education I am often afraid of risk.  Of losing a client, messing up his life.   I get hobbled by this.

So do the organizations I work in.  We get hobbled when we have something we could lose.  We go to the known so we can be safe.

Safe may be warm and cozy – it isn’t as interesting.   Or is it?  Am I just a product of my childhood?  My sister and didn’t just  go around on the merry-go-round  – we had to invent knew ways of throwing that ring into the mouth of the clown.   It was much more fun that way and she was a lot better at it. Each rotation we had a new way of hanging off the side of that horse – until they kicked us off after a couple of warnings.

Rambling.    I must get a better relationship with failure.

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