This is the Grace in Falling,
A story of failure and healing.
When I was in fifth grade,
I failed a class.
It was a language class,
One that no one spoke at home.
Naturally,
I had no interest in it,
So I paid no attention.
I was far more drawn to dance,
To art,
To the kinds of classes that felt colorful,
Expressive,
And playful.
Those were the things that lit me up,
That felt exciting and alive.
But when my report card arrived,
My parents were alarmed.
Instead of having me repeat just that one class,
They made me repeat the entire grade.
I wasn't asked what I wanted.
No one paused to ask how I felt.
It was just decided.
This is what had to be done.
Suddenly,
I was no longer with my friends.
I had to sit through the same material again,
This time with new class of students,
Many of whom weren't particularly kind or welcoming.
And something inside me cracked.
At just 10 years old,
I didn't have the words for it.
I didn't have the communication skills for it to let them know what I wanted.
But I remember feeling,
Vividly,
Shame.
I felt ashamed for failing.
I felt like I'd done something terribly wrong.
No one said,
It's okay to fail.
No one said,
You'll get another chance.
No one said,
You'll do better next time.
Keep trying.
Instead,
The energy around it made me feel like the end of the world.
And that moment,
It planted a seed,
A false seed,
A false story that took root.
And a belief,
A false belief,
Got created.
It's not okay to fail.
Failure means you're not enough.
There's no room for mistakes.
And as that little girl grew,
So did her fear of imperfection.
She became someone who held on tightly to outcomes,
To performance,
To doing everything right.
Afraid that if anything slipped,
It would all fall apart.
This reminds me of another story from the Buddha's life,
Where one of his disciples,
Sati,
Misinterpreted the Dhamma.
He insisted that consciousness itself was eternal,
That it never changed a misunderstanding of what the Buddha had so carefully taught.
When the Buddha heard this,
He didn't scold Sati in anger,
He didn't shame him.
Instead,
He gathered the monks and gently addressed the confusion.
He reminded them that holding on to fixed views,
Even the view of being right,
Causes suffering.
And then he said something profound.
Even a mistake,
When met with understanding,
Becomes a doorway to insight.
The Buddha taught that mistakes,
Like everything else,
Are impermanent.
What in Pali language we call anicca.
When we meet these mistakes with awareness,
They don't define us,
They refine us.
Looking back now,
I no longer see that 10-year-old girl as someone who failed.
I see a child who wasn't given the tools to process disappointment,
A child whose emotions weren't acknowledged,
A child who simply needed to be told.
You're not wrong.
You didn't do anything wrong.
You're still lovable.
You're still loved,
Despite failing.
You're allowed to fail.
You're allowed to fall.
My dear child,
That's how you learn.
So today,
I offer her and you these words.
You're not your mistakes,
My dear friend.
You're not your report card.
You're not your lost job,
Your broken plan,
Or your unmet goals.
You are a living,
Breathing,
Ever-evolving human being.
Failure is not the opposite of success.
It's the soil it grows from.
So the next time you stumble,
Fail,
Or fall behind,
Place a gentle hand on your heart and remember,
You are still allowed to rise.
