Leadership & personal development
Failure doesn't mean anything
Alejandro Jodorowsky reduces failure to what it really is: a change of direction, not a verdict on a person's worth. This is how I reread this sentence after twenty years of demanding projects.

“Failure means nothing, it only means changing paths. » Alejandro Jodorowsky.
A sentence that disarms
The strength of this sentence lies in its sobriety. Jodorowsky doesn't promise that failure makes you stronger, or that it hides a secret lesson. It simply takes away from failure the power to say who we are. One path has closed, we must take another. Nothing more. This economy of words seems fairer to me than speeches that transform each setback into a springboard. In my professional life as in my personal life, the failures that have cost me the most are not those that hurt me in the moment, but those to which I allowed the right to define me for months.
What failure says and doesn't say
A failure provides information on a method, a hypothesis, a timetable, a balance of power, sometimes on a simple error of timing. It does not provide information on the value of a person, and yet it is this reading that settles in the quickest. The confusion comes from mixing two lists: what didn't work, and what that would prove about us. The first list is short, verifiable, useful. The second is long, unverifiable and paralyzing. Separating the two, in writing, remains the most effective exercise I know to regain control after a serious fall.
Changing path is not giving up
There is a stubborn confusion between obstinacy and faithfulness to one's commitments. Continuing down a road that leads nowhere is not evidence of character; it is often the fear of explaining a change of direction. Conversely, changing paths without having understood why the first one failed amounts to making the same mistake again elsewhere, with new people. The right question is therefore not “should we persevere or give up”, but “what should change, and what should stay”. The deeper purpose may remain intact while the path, pace, and allies completely change.
The story we tell ourselves
After a setback, the first work is language work. The words we use decide what remains possible. “I missed” opens a sequel. “I’m a failure” shut up. I have seen very valuable people settle permanently in the second formula, not out of weakness, but because no one around them corrected the sentence in time. This is why I consider that a serious environment does not consist of consoling, but of reestablishing precision: recalling the facts, naming what was done well, and refusing generalizations that fatigue makes credible.
What Challenging Projects Taught Me
Twenty years of complex projects have taught me that deviations are more costly the later they are announced. A delay recognized early remains a subject of work; the same delay discovered by others becomes a matter of confidence. The mechanism is identical in a personal trajectory. Quickly recognizing that a direction is not working leaves resources to branch out. Waiting for the obvious to emerge from the outside exhausts these resources and reduces options to those that others will have chosen. Early lucidity costs self-esteem and saves time, which is still an excellent exchange.
Supporting those who have just failed
When a loved one or colleague is going through a setback, general encouragement is of little use. What helps is precision and presence. Ask what really happened, before asking how he feels. Say what you continue to entrust to him, naming real tasks, because vague confidence looks like politeness. Propose clear and limited responsibility, so that he quickly regains the feeling of being competent, because competence restores judgment faster than words. And come back to him a few weeks later, when the others' attention has already gone elsewhere.
A simple method after a fall
I stick to four gestures. Write the facts without adjectives, to distinguish the event from its interpretation. Name a main cause, not a comfortable list of circumstances. Choose the smallest action that really changes the situation this week, and take it before the urge dies. Set a date to reconsider the decision, so that the new path does not in turn become an unquestioned habit. Nothing in this sequel is heroic. This is precisely the point: it works on days when we no longer have any desire to be heroic.