The Privilege of Failure

I keep all my failures in a jewellery box in the corner of my room where the sun cannot reach them;

This box of failures is my most prized possession.

I rarely open the box.

It is not because they scare me,

Afraid they will jump out and cling onto me, becoming ghosts following me far and wide.

My failures are to me priceless,

Worth far more than all the gold and silver in the world.

The finest gold and silver are taken out of their boxes rarely,

worn on special and auspicious occasions.

I, too, open my box of failures on special occasions, 

wearing them proudly, 

each failure a map to my past and journey,

without whom any success would not be possible. 

Failure and success are like the moon and sun. 

We need both to live and to guide us.

There was a time when I would lock my failures in a box, 

Hoping they would be lost to the passage of time.

Thinking that failures sting and burn, 

They must be locked away in a Pandora's box where all the other terrible things go. 

Yet, a failure is like applying disinfectant to a wound,

A deep breath at the end of a long run on a scorching day,  

Necessary, reinvigorating, healing.

It is a bitter medicine.

Yet, the most bitter of medicines often cure the deadliest diseases.

In our generation, we have an all-consuming need to win.

That is our disease. 

Maddened for the taste of victory,

We want it so badly that 

We are willing to reach straight into a beehive for the prized honey. 

But if you want the honey, you must be prepared to get stung. 

- S.P