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I used to believe I wasn't competitive. Growing up, my three siblings would race to play Monopoly; I would groan and drag myself over to join them. I dropped out of swimming lessons as a child because I hated how geared they were towards racing, and I dreaded Sports Day. So I was overjoyed to find, through my involvement with the sustainability movement, that there was support for this position. I would often encounter polarised, black and white lists which laid out: old paradigm = competition, new paradigm = co-operation. I felt such relief to be on the side where competition was no longer relevant.And then I won the Ooffoo Laureate 2008 award. Throughout the process - entering, promoting the competition, waiting to hear - I've found myself having to think anew about how I feel about competition. How could I square my lifelong disdain of competition with how delighted I was to be involved, and then to have won?I wondered this aloud and my partner, a teacher, gave me an alternative perspective whereby co-operation and competition happily co-exist. Her students enter a nationwide competition, submitting creative work which represents their personal response to a philosophical question. The project spans a number of weeks, during which time the students support and bounce ideas off each other in order to improve their work. Even though their work ultimately will be judged against each other, they don't seem to feel any need to hoard or conceal their ideas.In this example, I see the true spirit of competition. I see how crucial the set up of the task is - how my partner emphasises the process, not the winning; how the experience is presented not as a cut-throat venture with just one prize to aim for, but rather one that they can share and enjoy with their classmates. I also see a pervasive trust in the uniqueness of each individual and their ideas. It reminds me of a jigsaw. When we seek to put pieces in position, we're not assessing which ones are 'better' than others, we're simply noticing the right fit for the right gap.I've been wondering: did I make up this story that I hated competition.... because I was a bad loser? My siblings always beat me at Monopoly, my short-sight meant I couldn't see where I was going in the swimming races, and I was a slow runner. Had I shied away from competition because I hadn't always succeeded?We need to investigate the stories we tell ourselves about what losing, failure and rejection mean. As we compete for jobs, contracts, prizes or places on training courses, there will be those instances where we fit... and those where we do not. Our role, then, is to put ourselves out there, to play the game. By doing so, we're not asking: "Am I worthy? Am I a good person? Am I valid and allowed to be on this Earth?" We're simply stating: "I'm here. Am I needed for this?" Competition can be uplifting and part of what moves us forward IF losing is just as valid and bearable an outcome as winning. As long as we ensure that losing won't destroy us, I'm coming to believe that competition has its place.Do Things Differently
1) Inquiry: How healthy is your relationship with competition? What story do you tell yourself when you win, and what story do you tell yourself when you lose?
2) Action: Scan your To Do list for those actions which always seem to get put aside. Would they involve competing in some way? If they do and you notice that your perspective on losing, failing or rejection is what's keeping you stuck, take action to get a new perspective on these possibilities [see below for my upcoming workshop].
3) Comment on this post, letting us know how you perceive competition and how that perspective helps or hinders you. Also, what do YOU think about the place of competition in a sustainable society? ** Workshop: Fail Is Not A Four Letter Word **Are you a bad loser? Do you hold back because the idea of failure is horrific? If seeing life in terms of success or failure is stopping you from playing the game and claiming your place, join us for the Fail Is Not A Four Letter Word workshop on Sat 20th June. There are three place left and the early-bird price ends on 30th April.(c) Corrina Gordon-Barnes, 2009
I was recently asked: "Have you ever had your heart broken?" I was in a group and the vast majority said "yes". I think the question was asked to show that we're all human and we all have the same experiences, so for the few of us who said "no", it was almost as if we were missing something. We were less human - we hadn't lived enough, we hadn't felt deeply enough.
Last night, in the final installment of the BBC adaptation of Tess of the D'Urbervilles, we watched a happy ending whisper its possibility and then disappear, as is fitting of such a solid Hardy tragedy. In one of the final scenes of the story, our main character - Tess - seems relieved to know that her short-lived joy is coming to an end, saying: "This happiness could not have lasted. It was too much". We see this too-familiar perspective on happiness - that it's temporary at best, dangerous at worst.
I wonder about how much we fear happiness, how we hide from it, get embarrassed about it. It's as if great happiness puts us out there on a limb - exposed and unusual. We know what happens to tall poppies, swaying blissfully in the wind. Happiness can be isolating; it can provoke our primal fears of rejection and abandonment. Maybe we hold back from too much happiness because we don't know what will happen out there, if we don't conform to the cultural default of resigned mundanity, grumbles and misfortune. Unhappiness is safer, somehow - there's less to lose. Perhaps it's unbearable to experience too much happiness and risk it falling away?
Do Things Differently
I challenge you to a week of too much happiness. How happy do you dare get? Notice when you repress your joy, your bliss; notice when it feels safer to say you're "okay" or "not bad" rather than "really really happy, thanks". Notice also WHY it feels safer - what are you trying to avoid? Every time someone asks how you are, choose to express the happiest version of you - with authenticity. Create a new cultural default - and notice the reaction from your friends, family and colleagues.
(Added challenge for Facebook users: have a week of updating your status to express the happiest version of how you're feeling and what you're doing. See if you get any interesting comments!)
I failed a sign language exam when I was a teenager. I told someone I fancied them and they said they didn't feel the same. I applied to be Head Girl at my school and didn't get it. I wrote a novel in my early twenties and had the manuscript rejected by a dozen publishers. I managed to get a meeting with a big public school in Cambridge and didn't get any coaching work out of it. I'm passionate about natural vision improvement yet still wear glasses some of the time.
These are the facts. I failed at these things. But what does that mean? There's the definition of failing - not meeting a particular result or expectations - and then there's the interpretation we give it. This is one of the most significant learnings from my coach training: our experience of a situation depends on the perspective we take, and the great news is that we get to choose our perspective. It's like we go to the theatre and all the seats are empty so we can move around until we find the seat which offers us the best, most enjoyable view.
Many of us have a view which completes the sentence like this: "Failing is... evidence I'm no good" or "Failing is... the end of the road". If we take this view, we play small, stop trying, don't take risks in case we fail. And then of course we fail anyway and beat ourselves up, vowing to avoid that route next time. Life becomes limited, there are less opportunities available to us. We've become so used to sitting in this particular seat that we believe it's The Seat, the one and only, just the way it is, when really it's just one point of view - and one that isn't particularly helpful.
In my workshop, Fail Is Not A Four Letter Word, the central activity involves generating other perspectives on failing and 'trying them on'. We come up with "Failing is... a sign I'm human", "Failing is... feedback". We're moving around that metaphorical theatre, searching for a perspective which feels true for us and is empowering enough to fuel us in to action. The key word here is: choose. We get to determine what failing means to us so that it exists as a regular part of the human experience, rather than a block to us pursuing the life we want.
Do Things Differently
Make a list of eight times you've failed. Choose the one with the greatest sting and note your current perspective on failing ("Failing is...") Now, 'try on' some other perspectives, such as the ones mentioned above. Include the two in the photo which were generated by participants at my workshop. How empowering is each? What feels different and what would you do differently if you saw failing in this way? Now, consciously choose that perspective this week. Notice how you approach a potential fail situation differently and what happens a result.
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The 'Fail Is Not A Four Letter Word' workshop is running again on Sat 18th October in Cambridge (UK). For more details and to book your place, click here.