I do not dwell on my mistakes. I learn from them.
Making mistakes reminds me that I am alive. Making mistakes is the first sign of life. It’s how we learn and grow.
I look at the children around me, at the way they skin their knees nearly every day, it seems, as they try, again and again, to find their center of balance, as they learn to push up off the ground, to crawl, to stand, to walk, to run. Not a single child succeeds in this process without falling. Not one. I am no longer learning to walk, but the truth remains the same: life involves making mistakes. Life involves falling. It’s the only way to learn.
Making mistakes reminds me that I am taking the risks I need to take in order to learn and to grow. I could hole up in a cave on the mountainside (or in my living room, drapes closed, television on) and perhaps I wouldn’t make any mistakes for a while. Even if I did, no one would see them. But I also wouldn’t be taking any risks. I wouldn’t be growing. I would be stagnating.
Like a plant that requires sunlight, I require the push and pull of social interaction. I cannot keep myself safely curtained off from those who might witness my mistakes and still expect myself to grow. I need to get out there. And if I stumble, I will take that as proof that I am trying, that I am truly alive.
- What mistakes have I made recently?
- What can I learn from these mistakes?
- How can I help others learn to accept their own mistakes?