Humans are quirky critters — each of us an individual ingot of doubt, wrapped in superstition, packed in misconception, and encased in myth. Although this could be the opening sentence to any number of articles on any number of human foibles, this particular one is about mankind’s inveterate fear of failure.
Humans fear failure because we fear being embarrassed, ridiculed or ostracized. And so, to avoid such perceived indignities, we compromise our potential by limiting our reach to those goals most easily grasped.
Curiously, because I’m either sub- or super-human (depending on who you ask), I’ve somehow skirted the whole “fear of failure” thing. In fact, I embrace failure. Failure, I’ve always surmised, is merely a necessary step on the path to success.
“An achievement that’s void of failure is no achievement at all.” Since you’re welcome to quote me on that, I’ve included the necessary punctuation for your convenience. If one has never failed in their pursuit of an intent, then perhaps that intent isn’t all it (or you) could have been.
Striving for that which is just beyond our reach forces us — by the very metaphor I’ve employed — to grow.
There is, however, a downside to fearlessly facing failure: if you do it often enough and for long enough, then you begin to accept it. When everything you reach for results in failure and your goals are never achieved, then you haven’t grown at all — you’ve stagnated. Those who at least strive for easily attainable goals have some forward momentum. But those of us who shoot for greatness and fail relentlessly have none.
Lately, I’ve started to realize that ULTRAsomething might just reflect this very condition. It is, by all traditional measures, a colossal failure. On a personal level, it failed in its mission to secure me employment as a writer, photographer, or composer. In the altruistic realm, it failed to have any global impact on modern photography’s steady descent into the mire of verisimilitude — where the literal and idealistic routinely and regrettably trump the metaphorical and poetic.
For all intents and purposes, this site is dead. And yet, like a reanimated corpse, it lurches forward — another article; another set of photos — beamed into space to bounce around the satellites like so much space noise.
So why, in spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, do I have this nagging belief that ULTRAsomething is actually succeeding at something? Perhaps it’s because I don’t feel the sort of complacency that stems from an acceptance of failure. Nor do I believe I’ve stagnated — though I am metamorphosing into something still too pupal to identify. So maybe ULTRAsomething has failed only at being what I intended, while its real triumph lies in being something other than that. Of course, if that’s the case, then my real failure is in recognizing what, exactly, that something is.
So I blunder on — like some sort of zombie — singularly focused on my quest for brains, brains and more brains. Because without more brains, the true purpose of ULTRAsomething might forever elude me.
©2017 grEGORy simpson
ABOUT THE PHOTOS:
The best thing about writing a “theme” post is it lets you purge yourself of photographic guilt. Consider, for example, the annual zombie walk. For the past couple of years, I’ve felt inexplicably compelled to grab a few snaps — even though I know the vapidity of such photos goes against everything I strive for in photography. But if I write an article that is, in some way, a metaphorical discussion of zombies, then the hackneyed suddenly becomes relevant and my guilt is assuaged.
REMINDER: If you find these photos enjoyable or the articles beneficial, please consider making a DONATION to this site’s continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is not an aggregator site — serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls.
Odd. Notice of this post coincided with my downloading of Funkadelic’s “Maggot Brain” onto my phone for my later driving pleasure.
Synchronicity exists!
Stumble on, sir. Stumble on.
On the off chance that the true purpose of ULTRAsomething is to discuss classic 1970’s albums with wickedly good cover art, extended stretches of instrumental bravado, and the word “brain” in the title, I would like to give a shout out to ELP’s ‘Brain Salad Surgery.’ Perhaps all the more relevant thanks to its signature lyric, “Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends…”
You are being too hard on yourself. You post about once a month, and I find myself looking forward to the next issue when I think it’s about time, so you must be succeeding (at something) with me at least.
Perhaps you need to put up more pictures/words without worrying if you are still on target for whatever it was you were on target for. Now that would involve quite a risk!
Peter: Readers like yourself are my primary motivation these days, so I pay close attention to all comments and emails. As for worrying about a target? That sort of “is” the target. Lately, when I meet people and they ask what ULTRAsomething is all about, I say “it’s a site about existentialism.” 🙂
Exactly.
Well I for one very much enjoy it, and will continue to read for as long as it exists.
Thanks, Chris. I sometimes fear I’ll be writing it for as long as *I* exist — so it’s comforting to know there’s a destination for all that future… um… something.
I too look forward to your articles and photos. They always give me pause for thought. Thank you for bringing them to light.
Thanks David.
There, behind that glass…
this and mundanity 2 sum up far too much of what is around me/us. Keep at it, keep at it
Funny, not Ha Ha, how that old ELP lyric can summarise how much of life is experienced now – in the UK even our national parks can seem like giant synthetic playgrounds
Becoming something other than what you strive for is the real reward of striving for anything.
If you strive for something and simply achieve it, what have you learned? How did you evolve? Since you succeeded in your goal you apparently already knew how to attain it. No growth, no progress.
Ending up somewhere you could not have dreamed of beforehand is the true beauty of any journey.
Just keep walking and let yourself be surprised.