I've written before about what a powerful motivator the fear of humiliation can be. We can try to be perfect. We can try to take no real risks that could result in failure. We can try to snow people we've never made a mistake.
But you're kidding yourself if you think you can make it through this life without messing up badly at some point.
(To avoid a discussion in ethics and morality, I'm sticking to the mistakes we make in our business, professional development and artistic decisions, okay?)
As perfect as we try to be, we screw up. Repeatedly. Some people more publicly than others.
I've had my share of humiliation in the last few months—deadlines missed, promises not kept, commitments delayed. I hate it. But I had to. I said "yes" to too many things, tried to keep too many people happy, and now have to pay the consequences of letting people down. It sucks big time.
So where is the gift in humiliation? What's it good for? What is to be learned from it?
I think the gift is what you learn from the experience, and what you learn about yourself.
By experiencing failure, you learn what doesn't work. By admitting you are wrong, you learn you can be imperfect—and survive. By taking risks, and falling short, you learn about your capacity for perseverance and determination.
You learn to let yourself be human.
To err is human, as they say. My friend Teo said something beautiful a few days ago. We were talking about some stupid behavior someone had exhibited, what it said about their character. She preferred to give them the benefit of the doubt this one time. She said, "I like to believe that everyone is doing the best they can with what they've got."
I was struck by her easy generosity, because it sometimes takes me awhile to get there with MY enemies.
I see the people who never admit they are wrong, who never admit they've made a error in judgment or conduct. They have a lot invested in appearing invulnerable and unassailable. They insist they have all the answers, and sneer at mine. Their way or the highway is their creed.
Such self-confidence used to impress me. But not so much these days. Oddly, they don't seem heroic to me anymore. They seem....strained. Stretched. Unable to grow, unable to reflect, unable to CHANGE.
It occurs to me that in difficult times—financial, professional, spiritual, whatever—that ability to CHANGE and GROW is what will save us. And it takes REFLECTION and HUMILITY for that change and growth to take place. The ability to admit we're headed down the wrong course. The ability to take responsibility for our past decisions. The ability to resist blaming others for OUR choices. To focus on what we control, and let go of what we can't control.
That's the gift in humiliation. It's not pleasant, and it's not pretty. But living your live to avoid it completely is ultimately not a life fully lived.
