Do You Value Your Mistakes?

Careful, there is a huge wave of self-help coming your way, bro.

Art by iuliastration

What’s up, folks.

We find ourselves in that strange limbo between Christmas and the new year. Half of us have decided that showering daily is completely optional while the other half is hating their career choices because they are still at work. I salute you both.

Today, I wanted to share some reflections on the value of doing, of making mistakes, of moving forward, backwards, or even in circles. The value of learning quick and getting better at failing.

As we get inspired (or intimidated) by our goals in 2023, I hope this could serve as a realistic perspective to understand that progress and evolution is not linear. We are surfers floating on our boards trying to ride big and small waves as they come; sometimes with purpose and great technique, sometimes kicking and punching so we don’t drown. We get pushed ashore or deeper into the ocean with each tide until, eventually, we become the big kahuna and we surf gracefully like characters from Lilo & Stitch.

So here it goes, let’s surf.

During lockdown, I played some classic games available for free on the Nintendo Store, like The Legend of Zelda (1986). I made a genuine effort to enjoy it, but I could not get into it. I must have played it for 40 minutes until I stopped forcing myself to like it. I didn’t touch it ever since.

It’s not bad game at all. On the contrary, it was massive commercial hit and best-seller in Japan and the US. Objectively, it was just made for a different time, it didn’t age too well and I played it 30 years too late.

Around that time, I was also working on writing, designing, programming and testing my own little game. While I enjoyed that process thoroughly, I also battled feelings of “why bother?”

“Why bother publishing this clumsy and unfinished piece of garbage? There are already great games and stories out there and this is clearly not one of them.”

It was not impostor’s syndrome, but it felt similar. Some part of me thought that this “game” was so poor it didn’t deserve to exist.

Fortunately, my underwhelming experience playing that classic Zelda game reminded me of a great lesson: Rome was not built in a day, and neither was Hyrule. The astonishing sequels I played in the early 2000s (e.g. The Ocarina of Time) were the product of decades of work, failures, iterations, and experimentation.

Yet, every time we try something new, we are expecting (not hoping) to produce an unrivalled masterpiece on the first attempt. We are impatient and unfair to ourselves. We want to surf the biggest wave before learning how to float on the board.

Maybe it’s supposed to take 12 years and multiple attempts to create something really great. It took Shigeru Miyamoto 12 years from the release of the first Zelda game (1986) until the massive success of The Ocarina of Time (1998). In fact, Miyamoto joined Nintendo in 1977 so that makes it almost 20 years of non-stop learning.

This gave me the gift of perspective.

We are so used to immediacy and urgency that we have distorted our expectation of how life should be. We delude ourselves thinking we deserve everything to be perfect the first time and every time.

How much healthier, more grateful and more enjoyable our lives would be if, instead of longing for immediacy, we internalised that we need 12 years (or more) of relentless dedication to excel at something.

How else could we master a craft, discard the things that don’t work, and come out with a winning formula that endures the passing of time?

Twelve years sounds like a fair investment in return for success. If God and his pink hippopotamus offer me that deal tomorrow, I take it.

---

Lately, I have started to appreciate more the perks of learning quicker and failing better. The idea of having my own business is a good example.

Like most 9-to-5 workers, I despise making money for a fat cat in a souless job. Growing grey hairs over someone else’s balance sheet is a curse that I am constantly trying to break.

In my 20s, I did a lot of freelance writing and some business consulting. When that died off, I moved on to dropshipping and affiliate marketing. That worked for a bit, but eventually failed too. In hindsight, those failed attempts were like the not-so-great games that need to be published so we can learn quicker and fail better next time, just like my ugly unfinished video game demo.

In August this year, amid a lot of uncertainty, life aggressively pushed me to start a business. Nonetheless, this was not another “side hustle” I could casually spend a few hours on. I had no paycheck waiting for me at the end of month, so this had to work, fast.

Luckly for me, it did. It felt scary, overwhelming and incredibly stressing. It also felt clumsy, raw around the edges and gave me a lot of grey hairs. But done is better than perfect, or so they say. My business was out there in the world, putting food on my table and paying the bills.

It might not age well, like some classic games from the 80s. There might be bumps and unexpected setbacks that I am not prepared for. But, as of today, it is definitely my most successful attempt at running a profitable business.

It has not been 12 years since my first attempt, though I am close. Even if this is not “it”, even if fall and break my leg trying to surf this wave, it would be my best failure yet.

There is a quote by Ernesto Sabato that roughly translates to:

Life is so short and the art of living is so difficult, that when you truly start to learn it, it’s already time to die.

It’s a bit somber, but you get the idea. Writing, painting, cooking, running, surfing, loving, living; they all take time to master. Twelves years is a good number.

Twelve years of dating people and failed relationships in return for “true love” sounds like a no-brainer. Twelve years of shit bosses and job hopping in return for a job you love and fulfills you is better than what most people get.

Instead of adopting the damaging idea that everything should happen now, that we deserve for everything to work out perfectly the first time, let’s assume, for our own sake, that truly great things take 12 years to cook.

In the meantime: do, act, move, fail, apologise, say thank you, take a step back, release an unfinished game, start a business, write a newsletter, or whatever keeps you afloat on that surf board.

Because, I assure you, as long as you stay in the water, you will surf those waves.

Before leaving…

I have a tiny favour to ask. You see, humans need external validation to build their self-worth and I am no different.

If you have enjoyed reading this, maybe a couple of your friends would do as well. I am hoping that you could invite them to come on this surfing expedition which is going nowhere, for now.

Add a personal touch to your invitation, something like:

“Hey babe,

I know I broke your heart last Christmas when I kissed your cousin in your mum’s bed, but I read this thing and I thought of you. You should subscribe to it.

Love, xx”

Anyway, that’s all for now. Remember to:

• Drink water and reduce the sodium intake in your diet.

• Call and message your loved ones.

• Mind the gap between the train and the platform.

See you in 2023, kiddo.

Cesar.