Dear God, let me please fail today, tomorrow, and the next day.

Failure as a state of grace.

After many years of looking life square in the face (when I’m not hiding under a pillow case) I’ve come to accept that pain is inevitable, that we don’t always get what we want, and some days seem terrible.

With basic acceptance of this moment in my pocket (including some loving kindness toward myself for all that I don’t accept in the moment), I’m on to something even more dynamic, sexy, and thrilling than this. I feel the pull of a new movement, a new music rising up from my depths.

This isn’t about accepting the inevitable. It is about stepping into the unbelievable. It is about walking into projects and relationships without knowing if I’ll make it out alive, without knowing if I’ll arrive.

This is about taking the dive.

I’m realizing that the only way I can really single-mindedly succeed in my projects is to embrace the possibility that they will crash and burn and to look forward to it, to love it, to long for it.

But even more radical and new for me than embracing a project in this way—and this is big—is to embrace relationships, and my heart, in this way.

I see how I have shielded my heart from hurt, how my stories about what someone did and why or what they might do and when, are all about protecting the little me.  When I drop the story and let my heart open if it can, it becomes about Pan-about mystery, inspiration, and life living itself.

It is about opening my heart and doing my part.

I’m embarking on a radical experiment, not just to listen to my heart and trust it when life steps in and forces my hand, but to extend my hand. And I’m making it public, so you can all see if I survive, and if I do—if I don’t just survive—but better yet, thrive, you can come too, you can risk the new, the unknown, the bare bones of being bold.

I’m going to take more actions without a clue about the outcome. I’m going to fall in love even if my heart will be broken.  Rather this than not to open.

Seriously, I’m going to trust myself this much.  Not to throw myself at the wrong men for attention or love I’ll never get, but to not think I know whom the right man (or woman) is, and to let my heart open where it does.

And I’m going to trust myself to know that I am one who cares, and love is in my hands not theirs.

Photo by Tina Roth Eisenberg. Fail Harder mural by Wieden + Kennedy 12. Love typography? Want to see how the murial was made (with a lot of people and a lot of thumb tacks)? Watch here.

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