I love theater.  I may have said that before in my blog, but love is worth repeating.

I’ve seen plays in London, Edinburgh, Prague, and throughout the United States. I’ve been to many plays on Broadway, including one in which Lyndon Johnson, then vice president of the United States, was in the audience.

Ever since I was a teen, I’ve probably seen on average one play a week, though I must admit, getting out of the house for an 8:00 pm curtain, and returning near 11:00 pm, has become more difficult over the years.

Three decades ago my father introduced me to a repertory group, Noise Within, now located in Pasadena. They present five or six plays each year, and every year we purchase season tickets.

Last night we attended “The Madwoman of Chaillot,” by Jean Giraudoux. Though it was written in 1943, this is a play that resonates today.

I found both the writing and, especially, the production suburb.  Toward the end, of the play I decided I would stand at the curtain call, both as a sign of my enthusiasm and to show my appreciation and respect to the actors.

A month ago, at another play, I had also wanted to stand in appreciation of the performance. But that evening as I surveyed the house during the curtain call, I noticed everyone else remained seated.  Clearly others did not share my opinion of the play, and because I was hesitant to stand alone, I remained in my seat.

Last night I decided I would stand no matter what.  Then I remembered the conversation I’d overheard during intermission. The woman next to me was complaining because “the play was hard to follow.”  I thought, once again, that I might be the only member of the audience to stand.  That scared me, so I changed my mind.  You could say that I chickened out.

Upon further reflection, I decided I would stand regardless.  Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!  But still I wondered, when the time came, would I really have the courage to stand alone?  Maybe I should wait, and look around first. I didn’t want to be out of step or look foolish.

“Come on,” I told myself.  “You really should stand.”

“I will,” I answered.  Then, in a soft inner voice I added, “Probably.”

The Madwoman has a line toward the end of the play in which she urges a young couple to kiss.  “After all,” she says, “you’ve known each other for three hours.  And if you let the wedge of the moment come between you it will then become a minute, then an hour, a day, a month, thirty years.  And I can tell you that I would be a different woman today if the man I loved had the courage to kiss me thirty years ago.”

At the final curtain I decided that I would definitely stand, no matter what, and when the lights came up, I did.  I didn’t look around, I didn’t want to know if the woman next to me, or anyone else in our party, was going to join me.  I stood for myself.

I was about to say, “Fortunately, many in the audience stood up after I did.”  I’d prefer to leave out the word “Fortunately,” because that implies that if I had stood alone I would have done something stupid, something wrong, something unsupported. But to only stand when others are standing would mean I was living a life for others rather than for myself. So from now on, I will be the first man standing, and if necessary, I will stand alone.

Back home I read the Los Angeles Times review.  Their critic also called this play performance “superb.”

I’m reluctant to admit that I am relieved.

Alan

To err is human.  Not to admit it is even more human.

For seventy-seven years I’ve lived in a world where countless people have sincerely tried to help me – parents, teachers, coaches, and friends – helpers all.

And the end result of all this help? I felt I was a failure.  To me, every suggestion implied that I wasn’t good enough. Help always seemed to include an implication of failure.

“Alan, you’re too sensitive,” was my mother’s refrain throughout my entire childhood.  I know she was trying to help.  But a chorus of “Don’t be so sensitive” assaulted me every time I heard her say that.

“Don’t be so sensitive?”  Should I live my life with eyes covered, ears plugged, emotions numb?  While these are options I sometimes use, I refuse to live my life as an armor-encased hermit. So despite my mother’s helpful advice, I continue to be sensitive.  I don ‘t have a choice about that.

We aspire, we succeed and we fall short.  We fail to fulfil both our own high hopes and the expectations of others.  We compound our failure by failing to acknowledge it, becoming, often unconsciously, a victim.  And a victim, by definition, cannot change.

But here is where the Five Freedoms of Facing Failure can help you live a more fulfilling life.

First, acknowledge your failure to yourself. At age sixty-five my mother discovered a lump in her breast but told no one for ten months.  She was only able to get treatment when she finally acknowledged she’d been in denial that something was wrong. She had failed to accept that her body was not functioning properly.

Second, advertise your failure.  When I started to practice law, and I do mean practice, every time I failed I shook my fist of blame at someone else.  Anyone else.  And I remained a captive of the same repeated failures until I finally learned to take responsibility.  I was pleasantly shocked when my staff relaxed and started to like me better.  At last I was free from my own fear that they would see me as incompetent.

Third, ask for help.  When my daughter Sara was four years old her teacher said, “When Sara wants something, she asks for it.”  I smiled.  “And if she doesn’t get it, she asks again.”  I beamed.  “And if she still doesn’t get it she asks someone else.”  I was thrilled.  The teacher seemed to disapprove.  But if you stop at the first closed door you’ll never leave your bedroom.

Fourth, ask for and accept forgiveness, both from within and from without yourself.  Years ago, my family was heading off for a vacation.  My Dad had driven to my house and was standing in the driveway.  As I backed my car out of the garage I saw him in my rearview mirror, jumping frantically up and down.  I knew I wasn’t going to hit him, so I continued to back up – right over his suitcase.  Had I failed?  Was it my fault?  It made no difference.  His suitcase was crushed and I apologized profusely.  Now, twenty years later, we both laugh at the experience.  Maybe I laugh a little more heartily.

Fifth, by following the first four steps you’ve given yourself the freedom to move on.  As the song says, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”  When you lose your fear of facing failure, nothing but freedom can follow.

Go for it!

Alan

“I’d rather be happy than . . .?”  Than what?  Healthy?  Wealthy?  Wise?

Personally, I’d rather be happy than . . . anything.  And my top three tips to help you achieve happiness are:

1. Let go.
2. Hold tight.
3. Prune.

LET GO.  Let go of anything you can’t do something about right now and anything else that isn’t important.

HOLD TIGHT.  Hold tight to people and activities you enjoy.

PRUNE.  Cut completely out of your life people and activities that bring you grief.

I’m always happy when I bring happiness to others through my writing, so let me be more specific.

LET GO.  Many years ago when I was starting my law practice I’d often wake up in the wee hours of the morning and begin to worry. I’d worry about the cases I was handling, and whether I would have enough business to cover my office overhead or pay my mortgage payments.  But lying in bed worrying didn’t solve a thing.  I just started every day by being upset.

After months of picking on my wife every morning and coming into my office angry I discovered a better attitude.  Instead of just worrying about a problem, I would either take action to solve it or I would temporarily forget about it.  One morning a client called to leave a message. He was shocked when I answered my phone at 4:30 am. That morning I had driven into my office at 4:00 am to finish a legal brief that I was concerned about.

But if I couldn’t do something immediately to solve a problem, I simply stopped thinking about it.

“Yeah, yeah,” I hear you say.  “Easier said than done.”

That’s true.  It takes practice.  But within a few years I reduced my “worry time” to practically zero, and today I seldom worry about much of anything

HOLD TIGHT.  I like to write, and I find myself spending more and more time at my computer doing exactly that.

There are many people in my life, both family and friends, who I enjoy spending time with.  So I do.

I’m always happiest spending time on activities I like or with people I enjoy.

PRUNE.  In the backyard of my home there was a huge tree which needed pruning every year so that new branches and leaves could grow.  One year I didn’t get around to the pruning, and for an entire year that tree was a mess.

Isn’t your life the same?  Don’t you have some, or many, activities which you don’t now enjoy, even if you did earlier in your life?  Have you accumulated too many friends, some of whom have worn out your patience?

Our time on this earth is limited, and you simply can’t do everything or help everyone.  So why not read more books, if that’s what you enjoy, or go back and read some of my earlier blogs or one of my People Tools books.  Or enjoy a beer while you watch the USC football team pulverize their opponent next Saturday.

I’m not being completely serious, but I’m sure you get the idea.  Prune from your life both people and activities that do not bring you happiness.

‘Nuff said.  I’m off to dinner at the home of one of my daughters who is a great cook.  And it will be fun for us to catch up on each other’s lives.

I wouldn’t want to give up good food or a little gossip once in a while.

Alan.