how failure leads to success – Page 9

Living Deer Head

By Mark E. Smith

The Deer Head Inn, in the middle of virtually nowhere, in a 150-year-old saloon-hotel on the Pennsylvania-New Jersey border, claims to be the oldest continually operating jazz club in the United States. That status may be up for debate, but what’s a fact is that you’ll see literally among the best jazz musicians in the world there on any given Friday night, among a silent, eyes-fixed crowd of no more than twenty. It’s as intense as it gets.

Now, I, myself, know nothing about jazz. But, I know intensity – and I know what it takes to get that good. You play every day of your life. You play till your hands, fingers blister and bleed. And, when you’re not playing and practicing, you’re thinking about it, learning about it, breathing it. See, you don’t get to be the best in the world overnight, and you don’t do it without a drive beyond all drives, where nothing stops you, not even blisters and blood.

I’ve learned time and time again in my own life that when we start where other people stop, that’s where true progress begins.

Like the jazz musicians I go see at the Dear Head Inn, I have some idea of the sacrifice it takes to pursue the extraordinary, to start where others stop, to push yourself till you literally bleed. See, among the most intense, extraordinary times in my life was in my mid twenties, when I was broke, finishing up undergraduate work and writing freelance. I had come a long way in life, but I knew that I could write better, and by writing better, I could live better.

During that era in the literary world, San Francisco State University’s creative writing program was renown as the best-of-the-best, where from the students to the staff to the guest lecturers, it was an incubator of craft, the truest heights of writing. And, I wanted to go there; I wanted to be among the best-of-the-best.

However, there was every reason why I couldn’t go: it was unbelievably competitive to get in to, I couldn’t afford tuition, and, as one with a severe disability, I had no transportation to get there every day, 50 miles from my home. But, in growing up with cerebral palsy, I knew a lot about tenacity and perseverance.

I put together an application and portfolio, and was immediately accepted into the program. Then, I scrambled to secure grants and scholarships, getting my tuition paid. Lastly, I found that by taking two buses and a train, three hours each way, I could make the commute.

I remember sitting through my classes the first day and knowing that I was living the opportunity of a lifetime.

Semester after semester, I was being taught by and working with the top writers in the world. Guest lecturers flew in, best-selling novelists critiqued my work, and I learned the formal craft of writing to a level I never knew existed. And, then, there was the whole decadent, glamorous scene that surrounded it all – from the literati to the tantalizingly lurid.

But, for me to study and write at that level, I had to live it to an ultimately disturbing intensity. Due to my disability, I wasn’t able to simply use the bathroom, so the commute and my schedule had me not urinating or drinking for 18 hours per day. Ultimately, my body was at its breaking point.

One morning my wife of the time got to my urinal before I did, and discovered my secret: I’d been urinating blood for months, an infection so bad that I should have been hospitalized. Yet, like every other morning, I raced to catch the bus. Why would I risk my health and live in such agony, all in the name of writing?

The answer is, I didn’t want to stop where others would. If you’re going to be great at what you do, sometimes you must throw rationale out the window and push yourself beyond what’s logical. Like a jazz great, you need to play till your fingers bleed.

Redefining Tragedy

By Mark E. Smith

My daughter had a scholarship interview on “the challenges she’s faced.” When she asked for my advice, I suggested describing the challenges, but mainly emphasizing how she’s overcome them, what we all can learn from them. After all, a tragic story is just… well… tragic. However, when we turn tragedy into triumph, that becomes an inspiring lesson for all.

It’s really the way life, too, works, isn’t it? For example, we know that dysfunction is generational, and when we see someone – hopefully not ourselves – repeating the cycle of generational dysfunction, it’s just tragic. Imagine a Ted Talk where the thesis was, “My parents were abusive alcoholics and now so am I….” The jaw-dropped audience would leave saddened and stunned. However, if the thesis was, “My parents were abusive alcoholics and here’s how I broke the cycle,” then there’s a riveting story all can learn and grow from.

I believe all of us have the ability to not rewrite our stories, but to finish them in ways that redirect them from the tragic to the triumphant, creating a phenomenally successful narrative – read that, life. The first chapters may be already written, but we can direct new ones, dramatically changing the story at any time.

See, tragedy is rarely a finite end, but almost always a remarkable opportunity for new beginnings, redirection. Yet, it’s rarely obvious. It takes a lot of awareness, introspection, and hard work to redirect our lives from tragedy to triumph. But, when we do, it’s the most important move we ever make, where tragedy stops, and healing and success begin.

Reflection, as I shared with my daughter, is key in this process – it’s where the learning curve is. If we’re unable to reflect on the tragedies in our lives, not only can’t we gain from them, but we’re at extreme risk of continuing living them. Any time that tragedy affects us, we ultimately need to find a space of reflection and introspection to stop the suffering and start the healing, the redirecting from the negative to the positive, the end of chapters and the starting of new ones.

It can be tough to do, I know. And, it’s heartbreaking when we see anyone – from loved ones to strangers – stuck in the wake of tragedy, sometimes a whole lifetime marred by its lingering effects. There are so many situations where it’s impossible to obtain clarity of thought in the situation, where reflection or introspection can’t occur because the scars are seemingly too deep or one’s capacities seem too limited. …Or, can it?

We often hear of people “hitting rock bottom.” I did this years ago in a marriage. The common misconception is that we hit rock bottom when we’ve lost everything, our lives in shambles. However, that’s rarely the case. I define “hitting rock bottom” as a point of uncanny clarity in the wake of tragedy, the point where we can reflect so honestly upon our past and present situations that we say, “Enough! I’m learning and growing out of this situation to live a healthier and more fulfilling life.” What’s wonderful is that we don’t have to be in shambles to do this – at any point, in any aspect of our lives, we can reflect upon that which isn’t working, that which has harmed us, learn from it, and move to new levels of success.

In these ways, tragedy doesn’t have to define us, it doesn’t have to be a life-long scar or pattern, but can be a catalyst for growth and change toward living the life of our dreams. As I shared with my daughter, the ultimate triumph over tragedy isn’t the inspiring messages we convey with others, but the liberation it brings to our own lives.

Sunsets and Rooftops

By Mark E. Smith

Sometimes our pasts, presents and futures collide all at once – and for a moment we see how it all makes sense.

I’m at Perch, an insanely hidden but outrageously hip rooftop patio bar and restaurant atop a skyscraper, with a 360-degree view of Los Angeles. It’s like walking onto a terrace party on Manhattan’s upper east side, only I don’t know anyone. But, they all are fashionable and laid back, sitting in upscale patio chairs around fire pits – 65 degrees in L.A. is cold, even for me, an east-coaster.

I’m with my fiancee, my soon-to-be step daughter, and my fiancee’s high-school friend, Deb. Deb is so down to earth and grounded that you’d never know she’s an exec with AE Sports, the video game giant, and her husband is some sort of brand manager for Aston Martin in Beverly Hills. I ask Deb if she knows of Magnus Walker, but she doesn’t, so I just tell her he’s a crazy Porsche guy in L.A.

The L.A. skyline at sunset is stunning. As spectacular as the ridges of the Grand Canyon, the surrounding skyscrapers create reflections and shadows that make it all appear beyond man-made. I just take it all in, and wonder amidst the beauty of it all – the rooftop, the sunset, the view, L.A., my fiancee – how’d a guy like me ends up here, at this place, this moment, this point in life where I feel blessed in so many ways?

Earlier today, I worked a big consumer trade show. While returning from lunch, I ran into my ex-girlfriend who I hadn’t seen in 24 years. We were so young when we dated, and when we broke up, I was crushed. There’s fragility to a young heart, and I just couldn’t make sense of the breakup. But, then I met who would become my wife, then we had my daughter, grew my career, moved cross country, built a very prosperous life, got divorced, raised my daughter on my own and just strove to live right by all. That first breakup turned into just good memories from my youth.

As I chatted with my ex-girlfriend, it was a very touching moment, no weirdness or awkwardness. Through the wonders of Facebook, we’d both known where each had traveled in life, and we both were genuinely happy for each other. It was sort of like just smiling at how far we’d both come. And, after a hug and a picture, we parted ways, she going to catch a flight home to her husband and daughter, and me, back to my company’s booth.

And, so as I sit on this L.A. rooftop, I look out at the sunset over the Pacific and flash back over those 24 years – my beloved daughter having turned 18 just a few days ago – and the question of how I ended up in this breathtaking spot, at this exact time, answers itself: despite the twists and turns, life always leads us to where we’re supposed to be.

The Ten-Percenters

By Mark E. Smith

Whenever I meet couples who’ve been married for several decades, I always ask them what’s their secret to a successful marriage?

“You need to weather the storms, the peaks and valleys,” they all essentially note. “You need to compromise and be willing to stick out the tough times. Love will pull you through.”

Interestingly, people always elude to how difficult marriage is, that to make it work, you have to be “too stubborn to quit,” as a gentleman told my fiancee and me on Valentine’s day.

However, while toughing out the bad times and being too stubborn to quit will keep any couple together, is that what anyone really wants in a marriage?

Out of every couple I’ve spoken with over the years, not one has ever told me that the success of their marriage has been due to mutual respect, unwavering trust, and sustained passion. No one’s ever said, “We constantly inspire each other….”

Respect, trust, passion, inspiration — why aren’t these the tenants of decades of a successful marriage? Why are couples accepting “toughing it out” as the key to marriage?

We live in a society with a fifty-one-percent divorce rate, and those who remain married are deemed successful. But, if your marriage is lacking respect, trust, passion, and inspiration, that’s not a success by any stretch.

Interestingly, if you look at the top reasons for divorce – communication breakdowns, infidelity, substance abuse, financial woes, lack of physical intimacy – they all go back to couples violating the four core values I note: respect, trust, passion and inspiration.

All of this leads me to a provocative question: where is accountability in relationships and marriages? There’s no magic to what makes a marriage a dream, a nightmare or a form of merely co-existing in-between: the two individuals’ behavior. Disrespect, infidelity or substance abuse don’t just randomly appear – pathology or not, someone makes the decision at some point to go down such paths. Again, marriages don’t mysteriously self-destruct – one or both partners pulls the pin, so to speak.

However, If you maintain respect, earn trust, fuel passion and foster inspiration, you’re guaranteed to live the most fulfilling life together. On the other hand, if you’re disrespectful, violate trust, defeat passion and uninspire each other, you’re doomed – either to a dissatisfying marriage or divorce. Go ahead and justify being in an unsatisfying marriage all one wishes – kids, money, being too stubborn to quit – but the goal should be living as a truly happy and passionate couple, not simply avoiding divorce. Again, there’s accountability where, as a couple from day one, over decades, you don’t justify or settle for poor behavior, but are dedicated to a lifetime of unwavering respect, trust, passion and inspiration.

Now, I may sound like an idealist, one who doesn’t know the challenges of marriage. To the contrary. I’ve known not only the challenges of marriage, but more so the opportunity within marriage to live to a higher standard. No, I haven’t been willing to accept disrespect, distrust, a lack of passion or inspiration. I’d rather be healthy and happy than in a dysfunctional, relationship. Yet, even more so, I’d rather share a life of respect, trust, passion and inspiration with my soul mate.

I know that some may see my relationship aspirations as unrealistic. I see them as accountable – and unquestionably possible. Of course, if everyone took my hard line toward love, that we shouldn’t compromise core healthy behavior and stay in dysfunctional relationships, the divorce rate might push 90%. But, the 10% of sustained marriages would be blissfully happy, living and loving with unwavering passion and ultimate security. I say, don’t settle, don’t compromise your marital happiness – and find yourself in the right relationship as a ten-percenter.

A Power Chair, a Warehouse, and Me

By Mark E. Smith

How fortunate are we when life hands us an unyielding passion? And, sometimes life-sustaining passions stem from the most unlikely of sources. In fact, they almost always do.

At the age of five or so, with severe cerebral palsy, I was blessed to have an occupational therapist place me in a power chair, and I went from a world of confinement to one of liberation at the touch of a button. And, I haven’t let off of the joystick since.

Thirty nine years later, I remain not just passionate about power chairs, but obsessed. I know the empowerment they bring, and I live it. My career revolves around power chairs; my personal life revolves around power chairs; and my friends revolve around power chairs.

But, my power chairs aside, here’s what’s amazing about having such a passion: no one can take it away from you because it’s your intrinsic life force. Lot’s of people like what they do. However, a passion is what you love to do, what you’re compelled to do – it’s who you are – and nothing can change that.

So, at 44, after 39 years of using a power chair – despite all of my life’s accomplishments – there’s still that one, ultimate thrill for me: when I have an awesome new power chair, as was the case this past week, where I immediately become that five-year-old again (a secret warehouse as my personal race track), where I feel an awe-inspiring sense of liberation and empowerment that wipes away all of the complexities of life – and I’m just living my passion to the core.

Video

Pitch 15

By Mark E. Smith

Kevin Jorgeson and Tommy Caldwell recently became the first rock climbers to “free climb” Yosemite’s mammoth 3,000-foot granite face, El Capitan. For the climbing community and public, what made the climb a record was the fact that the duo didn’t use any climbing aids – just bare hands griping crevices and climbing shoes pressed on the rock face.

However, the free climb wasn’t what impressed me. Rather, it was a story within the successful climb.

See, on day 8, on Pitch 15, one of the toughest stages, Caldwell zipped right up it. But, Jorgeson failed. In fact, he failed over a dozen more times, adding 7 days to the climb. Imagine the scene. Caldwell perched slightly above the pitch, watching his partner fail over and over, day after day. And, Jorgeson consistently failing to the point where he should have thrown in the towel. It looked to both men and the world watching that it was an impossible feat for Jorgeson.

Yet, despite exhaustion and escalating self doubt, Jorgeson finally conquered Pitch 15 after 7 days of trying. When asked what pulled him through, he replied, “Resolve. I didn’t see any other outcome but to make it….”

We all encounter Pitch 15s in our own lives, those times when we don’t think we can go on, those times where success seems impossible, adversity too looming. I’ve been there regarding living with disability many times. And, what I’ve learned, much like Jorgeson, is this: we can either concede and quit, or we can muster resolve and determination, where ultimate failure isn’t an option. We know the outcome of conceding and quitting – dreams dashed, an important part of our potential never realized. Yet, when we persevere through the seeming impossible, the results are astounding – we succeed.

Jorgeson’s dilemma on Pitch 15 was a unique one in physicality. After all, he’s among the first to free climb El Capitan. However, emotionally and mentally, his plight was universal – keep trying, against all odds, until you make it. Maybe you’re currently struggling in a college class or with sobriety or in a relationship or in your career. Again, you can always just quit tackling any adversity at any time – and if it’s obviously tough, no one will fault you.

Yet, here’s the universal truth when you have the courage not to quit: if you’re brave enough to tackle adversity, you’re brave enough to overcome it and succeed.

From Cerebral Palsy to Quaaludes

By Mark E. Smith

Matt Fraser isn’t afraid to be nude. He also isn’t afraid to appear on stage at venues ranging from off-Broadway plays to movies to television shows, including this season’s smash hit, American Horror Story: Freak Show. And, his fearlessness doesn’t end there. Matt is a Black Belt, a forever-charming ladies man and even a BBC radio show host.

However, here’s the single most important aspect to the success in Matt’s life: Matt Fraser isn’t afraid to be Matt Fraser. He presents himself with authenticity and doesn’t give us any other choice. We either accept Matt for who he is – disability and all – or move on.

How many of us struggle or have struggled with being who we are? Maybe as children we behaved a certain way to please our parents that wasn’t authentic to our identity. Maybe in high school, we caved to peer pressure, not feeling safe to truly express ourselves. Maybe in our careers, we squelch our personalities to fit a corporate norm. And, how many of us have curbed our behaviors, feelings and wishes to please a partner? Indeed, we’ve all been there. Yet, here’s my question for you: Have any of these scenarios worked for you in the long term?

Of course not. It’s never worked for you or me because whenever we’re not 100% authentic, parts of us feel inadequate, denied, undesired, squelched – and that’s painful. However, if you want to avoid such a terrible fate, just be yourself! It will feel risky and scary at first, but soon it will feel liberating, the freest you’ve ever felt. Now, some in your life won’t be able to handle the real you because they’re used to a watered-down, squelched version. But, your world as a whole will feel anew, fresh air filling your lungs as never before.

I remember being in my 20s and very self-aware. I watched carefully what I said to whom, and although I often had zany, witty thoughts pop into my head, I rarely uttered them, fearing I’d sound uncouth. My brother, on the other hand, who shared my wit, said anything to anyone, and I observed how charmed others were by his authenticity. With my brother as an inspiration, I slowly let my authentic voice come out – I’d say exactly what I wished on stage and in witting – and that’s when my career took off in every direction. It was time for me to be… well… me.

Some two decades later, being Mark E. Smith is a blast. I mean, if you’re an adult and ask me, “What happened to you,” I’m not going to give you a politically-correct answer about cerebral palsy as I would have in my 20s. Rather, if you’re an adult ignorant enough to ask me that question at an airport or such, I’m going to be me and you’re getting a one word answer: Quaaludes!

Each of us were born to be who we are, and assuming we’re healthy individuals, we owe it to ourselves and those around us to simply be who we are. Society, partners, and you name it may try to squelch who you are. But, your obligation is to be a Matt Fraser and live your life beautifully, exactly who you are, never compromising your authenticity – and the world will embrace you.

Grinnin’ In Your Face

By Mark E. Smith

When I attended San Francisco State University’s creative writing program, we were allowed to focus on the genre of our choice. My peers mostly focused on poetry, fiction or full-length feature writing. I was the only one in my class, however, who focused almost exclusively on the short-short story, a genre others found too difficult because of its inherent limitations. Whether writing autobiography or fiction, I loved the constraint of having to tell a story – convey a profound message – in 1,000 words or less (that’s no more than two typed pages). The constraints of the short-short form, I found, made me maximize what I had, it made me more creative because I had to learn ways to do more with less.

Of course, looking back, I simply grabbed onto what I knew based on growing up with disability – that is, I was really good at taking limitations and using them to utmost potentials. Constraints, you see, don’t box us in; rather, they challenge us to find innovative solutions to work with what we have. I’ve never found that ease or excess bring out our full potential. However, constraints and limitations do. I know that it sounds counter-intuitive, but if you want to grow, work within limitations.

The way I learned really quickly how to manage money was by being broke. Again, I know that sounds counter-intuitive – how do you manage money that you don’t have? – but what being broke is really about is expertly managing the money that you do have. It goes right back to disability experience, doesn’t it? I focus on what I have, not what I lack.

I was grocery shopping with my daughter recently and we encountered a sort of mirror image of us at the grocery store – a presumed single father and two daughters. In his hand, he had a grocery list and a calculator, adding up the cost of items as he went. It was a familiar sight because I’ve done that. When you have financial constraints, you find ways to do more with less. In that moment, that gentleman was a financial wizard compared to many with far more money because each of his dollars was wisely watched and allocated. Attentiveness and creativity filled his cart beyond financial limitations. Again, limitations bring out the best in us.

One of the greatest blues songs of all time is the mid 20th-century, “Grinnin’ in Your Face,” by Son House. In conceiving and performing the song, House had the ultimate constraints: no instruments and no formal musical training. How do you make an iconic song with none of that? Yet, by working around those constraints, he created a soul-penetrating song using just his voice and clapping, setting time to what sounded great to him. House found the ultimate instrument within the ultimate limitation: he used his voice and hands. Contemporary musician, Jack White, noted about House’s classic piece, “I didn’t know you could do that, just singing and clapping. It said everything about rock ‘n’ roll, expression, creativity, art – one man against the world.”

If we look at ourselves as writers, single parents, musicians, those with disabilities, and on and on, it’s amazing what we can do within constraints grinnin’ in our face. What’s fascinating is that constraints don’t limit us; rather, they inspire creativity, help us find better ways, and ultimately foster personal growth. However, what living with limitations truly does is empower us to realize that we don’t have limitations after all.

Prize Fighting

Mark E. Smith

As I lie on my bed in the surrounding silence, I should be angry, frustrated, maybe even panicked. I just literally beat the hell out of myself – scraped, bruised, exhausted – in three failed attempts to simply use the commode.

See, as one with cerebral palsy, in order to use the commode, I have to go from my power chair to my bed to my manual chair to the bathroom to the commode, keeping my balance on the commode, then back to my manual chair to my bed to my power chair. On my best days, it takes 20 minutes; on an average day, 40 minutes; and, on this day, after one and a half hours, I’ve not accomplished getting on the commode. I’ve tried three times, my uncooperative body struggling with every transfer, slamming me off of the commode, against walls, on the floor over and over.

Yet, as I lie here on my bed, I’m not angry, frustrated or panicked. While physically I’m uncomfortable, to say the least, I’m genuinely happy, full of gratitude. As poorly-functioning as this body is, it always gets me through. It’s the body of a prize fighter. It can get knocked down, bloodied, counted out by others, but it never quits and always gets back up.

For the moment, like a jaw-stung boxer dizzied on the canvas, I lie here with all things good streaming across my closed eyes. I think about the upcoming Christmas holiday – I’ve done no shopping yet, but I’m excited to give very meaningful gifts from a list I’ve been covertly gathering from those I love. I think about my daughter’s pending college applications to NYU and Cornell and the University of Pittsburgh, pondering if any of those are better choices than her seeded spot at George Mason University in the Washington D.C. area? I think about having my fiancee and soon-to-be step daughter back from their native west coast in about a week, joyed to be spending another holiday season together as a family on the appropriately wintry east coast. And, I think of the myriad of exciting aspects going on with my career. There’s so much gratitude in my life that I’m even thankful for the predicament I’m in – that is, having to simply use the bathroom, but knocking the hell out of myself in the process, seemingly unable to accomplish such an everyday task.

But, prize fighters never stay down long, and I’m about to sit up, struggle to transfer back into my manual chair, make my way to the bathroom and try to make the small but courageous leap from my manual chair to the commode once again. If I make it this time, fantastic. If my body fails to cooperate further, and I crash from wall to wall to the floor, having to start all over again, that’s great, too.

See, here’s the beauty of adversity: it’s not an easy route to success, but it is a proven route to success. Adversity makes us that promise – that is, as long as we’re willing to embrace it and address with gratitude and perseverance toward whatever it throws our way, we will ultimately achieve victory.

In this way, I’ve only gone three rounds – and I’ve got a lot more in me. Ring the bell. I’m ready.

Curveball King

By Mark E. Smith

As a writer, I can tell you that life is a story that unfolds page-by-page as we live it. Some of it we can predict and when we get to those particular pages in life, those where our intuition is right. However, most aspects of life are totally unpredictable, and much like a novel that we can’t set down, each page brings twists and turns that leave us only wondering what will happen next?

As a person, much like a voracious reader, I learned to stop trying to predict life, to guess or try to control what comes next. Why? Because like a page-turner of a novel, we can rarely guess what comes next. Think about your own life. Go back 10 years. Could you have predicted the twists and turns – the unforeseen plots – that got you to where you are today? Certainly not.

Yet, it’s human nature to want to know how’s it all going to unfold? People may give you answers, from friends giving you comforting thoughts to medical professionals giving absolute diagnosis. However, no one truly knows. The couple who everyone proclaimed would be together forever ends up in a bitter divorce, while the individual with a grim medical prognosis goes on to a inexplicable cure. We’ve all seen these plot twists, the unpredictable nature of life. Therefore, if you try to predict life over the long term, you’re likely going to be both disheartened and surprised much of the time based on any given circumstance.

So, if it’s so difficult to predict life, how do we handle the twists and turns, the unknowns that are bound to come our way? To use a sports analogy that’s fitting, life throws us two pitches: a predictable fastball and an unpredictable curveball. But, here’s what’s astounding, in baseball and life: researches found that when batters hit a curveball, they’re more likely to hit a home run (it has to do with the spin of the ball, the way it deflects from the bat, and so on). Therefore, both our biggest disappointments and successes in life often come from the unforeseen, an unpredictable curveball that can either strike us out or bring us amazing opportunity. Yet, again, one can’t predict the outcome, but merely take each ball – life’s twists and turns, that is – as it comes.

What I’ve learned is to not try to predict or question the future, but to embrace whatever it brings. Whether life sends me a predictable fastball or unpredictable curveball, I accept them equally and take my best swing. Life is a novel – a baseball novel – and I’m forever excited to see how the plot unfolds as my protagonist strives to be the Curveball King.