photo credit: Afroswede

When I was 4 years old I used to tie a pink towel around my neck like a cape, put the Superman theme tune LP on my Dad’s dusty old record player and fling myself off the top bunk-bed in my bedroom just at the moment John Williams’ orchestra spoke the word ‘Superman’ with their instruments. For a few moments I was flying and it felt incredible then I would crash down and twist an ankle, or bump my head or knock the wind out of my chest with a thud. Once my knee somehow struck my chin and I bit my lip causing it to bleed. Always making that record skip. I’d hurt for a a minute or two then climb back up to that top bunk and jump again. And again. Eventually I perfected my landing but for some reason could never work out a way to stay in the air.

This coming Monday I plan to jump from a much greater height, 12,000 feet or thereabouts. The idea of a parachute jump is something that used to fill me with terror possibly up to a year ago until I faced much greater fears, now the fear of jumping is replaced with excitement. I’m ready for it.

A martial artist is trained to fall. If he/she doesn’t a hit the ground totally and tries to keep off the floor taking all of the impact on one point it will hurt a lot more than it needs to. Like Tom Watson said in his cardiac resuscitating statement for this once weary entrepreneur, you have to fail if you want to succeed.

The martial artist tries by every way not to be thrown to the floor but when it happens it doesn’t hurt in the sense that it doesn’t matter. Avoiding failure when possible but fully accepting it when it happens. When you fail, you learn. Like the martial artist you shouldn’t shrink back from disaster but get back up straight away (or as soon as possible) and continue the fight. Falling seven times, and getting up eight.

I still have that Superman record and it has a deep scratch right on the landing note.