What's in Store, You Cannot Know

Can we fail? Or is failure a part of a trajectory we can’t see? Interestingly, we are so courageous to try again if the “failure” brought so much pain. Broken relationships, failed businesses, missed commitments and opportunities. These are all a part of the human experience, something we share in common. And maybe, the failures are just data, informing us of a future we cannot see. However challenging a failure may be, there’s something that keeps us moving forward. A whisper from the soul that says “what’s in store, you cannot know.”

I have deep faith in humanity, even in the challenging times we face. Arguably, it has always been this way. Some crises of today are certainly more urgent than those of the past, such as climate change, but I would argue that the challenges we face have always been leading up to this. The signs were there. The constant abuse and disregard for nature is now looking us in the face. This is what happens when a culture cannot feel as a collective power.

However, what if we look at our failure as stewards of the Earth as a part of the process. We don’t judge those that came before us or those that are currently harming the environment, but we take the radical step to stay with the process. It’s radical because only then do we feel it. It’s then that we will be able to feel what is going on and how far away from harmony we are. It is then that we rise above righteousness and ignorance because we see something far more important. We see that we have a responsibility, and transcend the finger-pointing, which brings us in touch with the power to act collectively in the same direction.

If we are honest, we are currently stuck. We are too much inside the distorted reality that we created to see beyond it. All of the discourse, arguing, side-taking, war, confusion, and dismay are symptoms of a failure that we have not felt yet. That we have not grieved, yet.

In my experience, I feel a deep longing to succeed. What that means for me is to contribute something meaningful to the world, something useful and lasting. I feel the desire to leave this place better than I found it. And also the desire for people to see me doing my best on that journey. I think the prior is a natural impulse, while the latter is my identification with “doing good.” The latter is what I have to deal with because when, inevitably, I fail at something I can’t see past my attachment to do good. I can’t see that failure is a part of the process for me to leave something better than I found it.

This, I believe, is where we find ourselves as a culture. It’s hard to admit failure. It’s hard to slow down and notice that things aren’t working. It’s hard to stop the endless flywheel of consumption and go in the opposite direction. But it’s only hard because we are attached to getting it right. We are attached to the success, even if it may be temporary. I would say, especially because it’s temporary and rapid.

To stop, notice, and transform takes courage. A radical responsibility that expands beyond my individuality. To own not only my failures but the failures of culture. This means, I’m not blind to the failures and atrocities of the past but I see them. I see them for what they are and, therefore obtain and integrate the cultural learning, which sets all of us up for the next wave of innovation.

What I’m saying here is that the lens we look through is a large part of the problem. Actually, not a large part, the problem. We are trying to solve our issues by looking at them through the same lens. We are trying to change the past. Impossible. We know this. But, here we are.

The revolutionary step is to stay with the process. To feel what we feel. A step into unknown territory. A possible one, though. When we show up in the world as a revolutionary, we inspire those around us to do the same. We can do as much as we can and even a little more to have the courage to feel. Then, let life run its course, remaining unattached to success and remembering that this is the process to wholeness. Remembering that “what’s in store, you cannot know.”