Embracing failure
Learning the joy of experimentation
I think it’s high time I emerge from my winter hibernation and embrace the blossoming of spring. Like my body, my writing has been dormant and I’m excited for all the shifting energy that comes with this season. Spring brings such a sense of renewal. Every time I see a bud on the verge of budding, I feel deeply grateful for all the ways nature puts on a show of new beginnings.
Embracing failure
I recently had some thoughts about failure that sprung from my experiments to make yogurt. Turns out yogurt is both easy and not easy. That’s the thing I’ve realized about learning (almost) anything—break it down, take the pieces apart, and most things don’t seem difficult at first, in yogurt’s case, it’s working with very few ingredients (milk and cultures). The hard part seems to always be with the execution and the inevitable reality of having very little control over external factors.
In my attempts to make yogurt, I tried different kinds of milk and non-dairy alternatives. I had a handful of failures, but it’s been really fun to fail and I’m surprised at how quickly I’m bouncing back from failure. I wasn’t always this way—I wasn’t always able to brush off failure the way I would gently pat off the dust from my pants. So I’ve been wondering, what’s changed?
What’s changed from the past version of myself that sometimes felt like knowing there was a possibility of failing was reason enough to not try, to not commit? What’s changed from the days when I would just preemptively ponder failure, the shame or embarrassment I’d feel in the moment I failed?
I think the answer boils down to two parts: first, the desire to put curiosity before failure, and second, to find joy in the process instead of the goal.
There have been many things I’ve been experimenting with since moving to the countryside. I’d say this quest for experimentation stems from a curiosity to do things I’ve never done (like farming or traditional crafts) and the real inconvenience of rural dwelling, which has made me reconsider what I can do on my own instead of relying on others. If I had the convenience of buying anything and everything, the way I would in a city, why would I take the time to do it myself?
I think we’ve built a fine-tuned society of experts and professionals who can do only one thing well. We outsource anything that falls outside our realm of expertise and trade money for specific skills. I grew up with the impression that “jack of all trades” was not something to be admired, but rather a way of implying that there wasn’t enough determination or effort to gain mastery in one thing.
Since living in Kamikatsu, I realized that the people who’ve impressed me the most are the self-sufficient people. I’m impressed with the “Jacks”—the people who can make a living with their own hands and knowledge, able to do many things well. Self-sufficiency in the countryside translates to being able to build things like build houses, fix things like furniture and electronics, and make, cook, and grow things. If I didn’t think “jack of all trades” was cool when I was younger, I certainly think it’s pretty cool now.
It’s experimentation that I think makes life interesting—there’s as much meaning in failing as there is in trying. And if we can explore things with deep curiosity and gratitude for the process, failure doesn’t seem that bad at all.
Updates from Kamikatsu
Just weeks after moving into my place in Kamikatsu about a year ago, I had a wonderful human being join me as a roommate. She lived with me last summer for a couple of months and we quickly bonded over brunch and long afternoons with locals.
My former roommate recently came to visit Kamikatsu and she brought a friend who’s never been to the Japanese countryside. It was so lovely to welcome them both, but especially the friend who hadn’t spent any time outside of the city. Whenever I guide new guests to the village, I always experience things with fresh eyes and it’s a reminder of the gifts of nature and people I’m lucky to have around me.
There’s a lot in my heart that feels heavy with the ongoing tragedies of the war in Ukraine, 25 days of war, and 2.5 million refugees. In the same thought, I also feel heartache for the refugees in Syria, Palestine, Afghanistan Bangladesh, and others. I hope we continue to have an outpouring of compassion and solidarity in these times of tragedy. May we be actionable in our pursuit of justice and hold onto our shared humanity.
Take care and sending love,
Kana
"May we be actionable in our pursuit of justice and hold onto our shared humanity." I really love this. Thank you for sharing!
Breathing life into my Mondays. Thank you for this. <3