Good ide­as don’t requi­re pro­per plan­ning or sche­du­le; nor do they bene­fit from exhaus­ting­ly long mee­tings and con­ver­sa­ti­ons with manage­ment. They emer­ge from expe­ri­ments, from play­ing around with things that you care about, things to which you have an emo­tio­nal attach­ment. And qui­te often they need a crea­ti­ve chaotic envi­ron­ment to flou­rish and grow.demo-img-2 2

Howe­ver, the path from an idea to a tan­gi­ble pro­duct is full of fail­u­res, and it’s tho­se ine­vi­ta­ble, some­ti­mes deva­sta­ting fail­u­res that make you stron­ger and keep you going, and eventually—if you don’t give in easily—drive you in the right direc­tion, just to final­ly pave the board­walk to some­thing that might turn out to be chan­ging and defi­ning your future.

Of cour­se we all should bene­fit from the know­ledge of others—people who trust them­sel­ves to actual­ly fol­low through their weird, unrea­listic, and some­ti­mes stubborn, nai­ve ide­as. But we should be able to learn and grow from our own mista­kes, too. If you are wil­ling to expe­ri­ment and tack­le fail­u­res along the way, you have to be able to make your own mista­kes. And that means making an effort to beat the odds—no mat­ter how doo­med that shiny new idea might initi­al­ly look.

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In fact, usual­ly that initi­al crea­ti­ve spark sounds just so ridi­cu­lous, unre­a­son­ab­le and impro­bable at first, and often even worse after the first cri­ti­cal review. But some­ti­mes it doesn’t mat­ter. Yes, it just doesn’t mat­ter. Perhaps it’s your time to suc­ceed whe­re others fai­led, and risk your per­so­nal time to gain strength, expe­ri­ence and wis­dom that others gai­ned befo­re you. Perhaps you are doo­med to fail, but you might build some­thing in the end that will lead you to suc­cess in the future as you com­bi­ne that idea with the inspi­ra­ti­on you’ll find in your cel­lar years from now.

Hap­pi­ness is a ploy. Just a car­rot on a stick.., some­ti­mes. May­be more than others. May­be hap­pi­ness is just far away. Like loo­king on a map, and fin­ding how long it takes to get the­re. Won­de­ring how much time you should take off. That’s real­ly how I’d look at it. Like if I dri­ve fas­ter, I could get to the hap­pi­ness I’ve been loo­king for all my life soo­ner.

May­be just real­ly lonely. May­be I just want to be alo­ne. May­be lone­li­ness is the only way to make that hap­pen. Like having two pairs of eyes and just see­ing the same thing. Seems like such a late hour. Not­hing seems, or feels new any­mo­re. I’d live again, to feel that way once more.

Lone­li­ness for miles. Down every turn. A dus­ty road to nowhe­re. In ever­y­thing that is given. Lone­li­ness seems to make it’s way back into our life’s. Deeper into our hearts. I’ll never know the mea­ning of it. The why. Exhausted and much too old to cha­se it’s ever pre­sent here and now.

 

It’s hard to stress how thril­led we are with the results of our new maga­zi­ne! Sin­ce the launch, custo­mers, affi­lia­tes, and inves­tors con­ti­nue to go out of their way to send their com­pli­ments, and that is gre­at news for all of us.

 

Howe­ver, the path from an idea to a tan­gi­ble pro­duct is full of fail­u­res, and it’s tho­se ine­vi­ta­ble, some­ti­mes deva­sta­ting fail­u­res that make you stron­ger and keep you going, and eventually—if you don’t give in easily—drive you in the right direc­tion, just to final­ly pave the board­walk to some­thing that might turn out to be chan­ging and defi­ning your future.

Of cour­se we all should bene­fit from the know­ledge of others—people who trust them­sel­ves to actual­ly fol­low through their weird, unrea­listic, and some­ti­mes stubborn, nai­ve ide­as. But we should be able to learn and grow from our own mista­kes, too. If you are wil­ling to expe­ri­ment and tack­le fail­u­res along the way, you have to be able to make your own mista­kes. And that means making an effort to beat the odds—no mat­ter how doo­med that shiny new idea might initi­al­ly look.

Ori­gi­nal source: Ylli Pyl­la