Recover From Mistakes Quotes

You can spend the entire second half of your life recovering from the mistakes of the first half.

We’re so self-important. Everybody’s going to save something now. “Save the trees, save the bees, save the whales, save those snails.” And the greatest arrogance of all: save the planet. Save the planet, we don’t even know how to take care of ourselves yet. I’m tired of this shit. I’m tired of f-ing Earth Day. I’m tired of these self-righteous environmentalists, these white, bourgeois liberals who think the only thing wrong with this country is that there aren’t enough bicycle paths. People trying to make the world safe for Volvos. Besides, environmentalists don’t give a shit about the planet. Not in the abstract they don’t. You know what they’re interested in? A clean place to live. Their own habitat. They’re worried that some day in the future they might be personally inconvenienced. Narrow, unenlightened self-interest doesn’t impress me. The planet has been through a lot worse than us. Been through earthquakes, volcanoes, plate tectonics, continental drift, solar flares, sun spots, magnetic storms, the magnetic reversal of the poles … hundreds of thousands of years of bombardment by comets and asteroids and meteors, worldwide floods, tidal waves, worldwide fires, erosion, cosmic rays, recurring ice ages … And we think some plastic bags and some aluminum cans are going to make a difference? The planet isn’t going anywhere. WE are! We’re going away. Pack your shit, folks. We’re going away. And we won’t leave much of a trace, either. Maybe a little Styrofoam … The planet’ll be here and we’ll be long gone. Just another failed mutation. Just another closed-end biological mistake. An evolutionary cul-de-sac. The planet’ll shake us off like a bad case of fleas. The planet will be here for a long, long, LONG time after we’re gone, and it will heal itself, it will cleanse itself, ’cause that’s what it does. It’s a self-correcting system. The air and the water will recover, the earth will be renewed. And if it’s true that plastic is not degradable, well, the planet will simply incorporate plastic into a new paradigm: the earth plus plastic. The earth doesn’t share our prejudice toward plastic. Plastic came out of the earth. The earth probably sees plastic as just another one of its children. Could be the only reason the earth allowed us to be spawned from it in the first place. It wanted plastic for itself. Didn’t know how to make it. Needed us. Could be the answer to our age-old egocentric philosophical question, “Why are we here?” Plastic… asshole.

Anyone can make a mistake.... It's how they learn from it and recover from it that shows their true worth.

We have the power to decide on our own who we will be. Therefore, we will make mistakes. However- We have the power to decide on our own who we will be. There, we can also recover from mistakes.

Mistakes are part of the game. It's how well you recover from them, that's the mark of a great player.

I had the chance to make every possible mistake and figure out a way to recover from it. Once you realize there is life after mistakes, you gain a self-confidence that never goes away.

We are all damaged. We have all been hurt. We have all had to learn painful lessons. We are all recovering from some mistake, loss, betrayal, abuse, injustice or misfortune. All of life is a process of recovery that never ends. We each must find ways to accept and move through the pain and to pick ourselves back up. For each pang of grief, depression, doubt or despair there is an inverse toward renewal coming to you in time. Each tragedy is an announcement that some good will indeed come in time. Be patient with yourself.

My heroes are the ones who survived doing it wrong, who made mistakes, but recovered from them.

A person can become tired of looking himself over and trying to fix himself up. You can spend the entire second half of your life recovering from the mistakes of the first half

Cash is the lifeblood of your business. There are very few things in business that will kill you, but running our of cash is one of those things. You can recover from almost any other mistake, but if you run out of cash you’re dead.

10. The Right to Love and Protect Myself I have the right to self-compassion when I make mistakes. I have the right to change my self-concept when it no longer fits. I have the right to love myself and treat myself nicely. I have the right to be free of self-criticism and to enjoy my individuality. I have the right to be me.

Maybe there was no mistake so bad that you couldn’t recover from it and decide to move on.

We have the power to decide on our own who we will be. Therefore, we will make mistakes. However– We have the power to decide on our own who we will be. Therefore, we can also recover from mistakes.

The greatness of Intel is not that it is smarter than other companies (though it may well be) or that it is too clever and competent to make a false move (we’ve just seen a stunning example of the very opposite) but that it has consistently done better than any company, perhaps ever, at recovering from its mistakes.

In the past, my brain could only compute perfection or failure—nothing in between. So words like competent, acceptable, satisfactory, and good enough fell into the failure category. Even above average meant failure if I received an 88 out of 100 percent on an exam, I felt that I failed. The fact is most things in life are not absolutes and have components of both good and bad. I used to think in absolute terms a lot: all, every, or never. I would all of the food (that is, binge), and then I would restrict every meal and to never eat again. This type of thinking extended outside of the food arena as well: I had to get all of the answers right on a test; I had to be in every extracurricular activity […] The ‘if it’s not perfect, I quit’ approach to life is a treacherous way to live. […] I hadn’t established a baseline of competence: What gets the job done? What is good enough? Finding good enough takes trial and error. For those of us who are perfectionists, the error part of trial and error can stop us dead in our tracks. We would rather keep chasing perfection than risk possibly making a mistake. I was able to change my behavior only when the pain of perfectionism became greater than the pain of making an error. […] Today good enough means that I’m okay just the way I am. I play my position in the world. I catch the ball when it is thrown my way. I don’t always have to make the crowd go wild or get a standing ovation. It’s good enough to just catch the ball or even to do my best to catch it. Good enough means that I finally enjoy playing the game.

I had so much respect for the fact that Father Andrew saw his own sins in my actions. I wished all adults were like Father Andrew.

people in a healthy organization, beginning with the leaders, learn from one another, identify critical issues, and recover quickly from mistakes.

When we experience a sad event it is natural to react to it with pain. The first arrow is the event. Our prolonged reactions to the event are the second arrows. It is natural to need time to recover. But we made it harder for ourselves when we second guess ourselves and feel guilty or ashamed. Instead we can work with and modify these emotions from the second arrow. We can have both the courage to accept our suffering and the skills to move beyond it. We can pardon ourselves and all those around us. This may be the most important thing - that we learn to grant ourselves mercy. That we forgive ourselves, that we accept our pain, mistakes, and vulnerability, and somehow manage to love ourselves and our own lives. ...And it is only when we grant ourselves mercy that we can extend this mercy to others.

Try to acquire the weird practice of savoring your mistakes, delighting in uncovering the strange quirks that led you astray. Then, once you have sucked out all the goodness to be gained from having made them, you can cheerfully set them behind you, and go on to the next big opportunity. But that is not enough: you should actively seek out opportunities to make grand mistakes, just so you can then recover from them.

the story of Issa, the eighteenth-century Haiku poet from Japan. Through a succession of sad events, his wife and all his five children died. Grieving each time, he went to the Zen Master and received the same consolation: “Remember the world is dew.” Dew is transient and ephemeral. The sun rises and the dew is gone. So too is suffering and death in this world of illusion, so the mistake is to become too engaged. Remember the world is dew. Be more detached, and transcend the engagement of mourning that prolongs the grief. After one of his children died, Issa went home unconsoled, and wrote one of his most famous poems. Translated into English it reads,      The world is dew.      The world is dew.      And yet.      And yet.

We all make mistakes or hurt others at times, but if you are interested in what goes on inside other people and sense their feelings, if you are careful to nurture your relationships and take responsibility for your role in a problem, you are by definition adequately emotionally mature.

Many people look at their past and bemoan their mistakes. Those errors in judgment, behavior, hurting others, and the wrong decisions may be what consumes them now. It does not have to be that way, for recovering from a traumatic situation is all a matter of how we think about what happened. It is not so much about what happened to us as what we make of the circumstance.

But creativity, she doesn’t fit in a box. She’s a wild, fluid, uncontrollable energy that spreads out sensuously from a curious, wide open mind in large expanses of aimless time on dreamy liminal train journeys or in subtle moments between waking and sleep. She can’t be pushed, or coughed up, or beaten into submission by a brutal and unmerciful regime. She needs light, and breath, and space and then, maybe, if the mood takes her, she’ll unfurl her wings and let her colors run into the atmosphere. And this energy, this wild, fun, unpredictable magic that I’d played with so happily as a child, that had flowed through me like it was my very life force up until this point; I didn’t understand it anymore. Creativity was this swirling wild mysterious language, but now I lived in a colorless angular world that promised me a certainty I valued above all else. And where before, I was just scribbling, writing, moving for the mere joy of it, now I tried to commodify my creativity. I tried to squeeze it out and make it do something worthwhile, be special, be important, be good. I could no longer see the point of art if it wasn’t good. But that’s the tricky thing about art, it’s never strictly good or bad, it’s just expression, or excretion. It couldn’t be measure by scales or charts, or contained in small manageable segments in the day. It was always, by its very nature, so imperfect. And the imperfections drove me mad. The anxiety and frustration with my creative endeavors turned into an actual fear of blank pages and pallets of paint. There was too much potential and too much room to fail so day by day, I chose perfection over creativity. I chose no more creativity, and no more mistakes. There are things that eating disorders takes from you that are more important, much greater and more profound a loss, and much much more difficult to recover and restore completely than body fat. And that reckless urge to create, just for the pure, senseless joy of it, would become the one I missed the most.

Man has always been drawn to the sea. But it's an unnatural setting for us, a place of great danger. Tides, currents, waves, wind, each presenting their own hazards, none of which can be ignored. The slightest lapse of judgment can be a mistake you might never recover from. But a good sailor doesn't fight against these elements. A good sailor works with them, using them to his advantage. While others less fortunate might be forever cast adrift, often in several pieces. He always comes home safely.

If you were raised in a negative environment, building a negative image of yourself is natural.  Narcissistic fathers focus on flaws and fail to give praise, so that is what we embrace ourselves. When we grow up we see only the failures, the mistakes, the bad choices and how we can never measure up to the ideals we expect from ourselves. We are so used to the negativity that we forget to see the little good things. We brush off compliments. Developing positive self-talk means reversing whatever is it that your father made you believe. Accepting and enjoying compliments and your own accomplishments. Giving yourself credit for the things you did.

For the most part, life gives you so many decisions to make and so many opportunities to recover from your mistakes that, if you handle them well, you can have a terrific life. Of course, sometimes there are major influences on the quality of our lives that come from things beyond our control—the circumstances we are born into, accidents and illnesses, and so forth—but for the most part even the worst circumstances can be made better with the right approach. For example, a friend of mine dove into a swimming pool, hit his head, and became a quadriplegic. But he approached his situation well and became as happy as anybody else, because there are many paths to happiness.

She was still standing there several moments later when Ian walked in to invite her to ride with him. “Still trying to find your answer, sweetheart?” he asked with a sympathetic grin, mistaking the cause of her wary stare. “No, I found mine,” she said, her voice unintentionally accusing as she thrust both pieces of paper toward him. “What I would like to know,” she continued, unable to tear her gaze from him, “is how it happens to be the same answer you arrived at in a matter of moments.” His grin faded, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, ignoring the papers in her outthrust hand. His expression carefully impassive, he said, “That answer is a little more difficult than the one I wrote down for you-“ “You can do this-calculate all those figures in your mind? In moments?” He nodded curtly, and when Elizabeth continued to stare at him warily, as if he was a being of unknown origin, his face hardened. In a clipped, cool voice he said, “I would appreciate it if you would stop staring at me as if I’m a freak.” Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open at his tone and his words. “I’m not.” “Yes,” he said implacably. “You are. Which is why I haven’t told you before this.” Embarrassed regret surged through her at the understandable conclusion he’d drawn from her reaction. Recovering her composure, she started around the desk toward him. “What you saw on my face was wonder and awe, no matter how it must have seemed.” “The last thing I want from you is ‘awe,’” he said tightly, and Elizabeth belatedly realized that, while he didn’t care what anyone else thought of him, her reaction to all this was obviously terribly important to him. Rapidly concluding that he’d evidently had some experience with other people’s reaction to what must surely be a form of genius-and which struck them as “freakish”-she bit her lip, trying to decide what to say. When nothing came to mind, she simply let love guide her and reacted without artifice. Leaning back against the desk, she sent him an amused, sidelong smile and said, “I gather you can calculate almost as rapidly as you can read?” His response was short and chilly. “Not quite.” “I see,” she continued lightly. “I would guess there are close to ten thousand books in your library here. Have you read them all?” “No.” She nodded thoughtfully, but her eyes danced with admiring laughter as she continued, “Well, you’ve been quite busy the past few weeks-dancing attendance on me. No doubt that’s kept you from finishing the last thousand or two.” His face softened as she asked merrily, “Are you planning to read them all?” With relief, she saw the answering smile tugging at his lips. “I thought I’d attend to that next week,” he replied with sham gravity. “A worthy endeavor,” she agreed. “I hope you won’t start without me. I’d like to watch.” Ian’s shout of laughter was cut short as he snatched her into his arms and buried his face in her fragrant hair, his hands clenching her to him as if he could absorb her sweetness into himself. “Do you have any other extraordinary skills I ought to know about, my lord?” she whispered, holding him as tightly as he was holding her. The laugher in his voice was replaced by tender solemnity. “I’m rather good,” he whispered, “at loving you.

What’s past cannot be mended, lass. So there can be no reason to talk more about my faults, either.” Lina raised her eyebrows, wondering if he believed that. How could one learn from past mistakes if one did not reconsider actions that had led to them? “Don’t say it,” he said with a smile. “You’ve nae need to. I resist reflecting on the past, because my actions rarely look as brilliant afterward as they did at the time. They never do when the reflection hits me from my father’s perspective.” She chuckled. “I think you fib about the dimming of your brilliance in your own mind, sir. But the rest is true, as I know for myself. Sithee, if Mam heard what you said to me earlier, I’ll soon hear her views about young ladies who linger with gentlemen on stairways after they’ve been ordered off to bed.” His lips twitched. When he bit hard on the lower one, the echo of her own words returned, and the unintended image they had created enflamed her cheeks. “You know that I meant after I had been ordered to bed,” she muttered. He grinned. “Do I?” She shook her head at him and fell silent, hoping he would stop teasing long enough for her to recover her equanimity.

This is a very serious thing, Edith,” he replied. “Our pig is completely out of the ordinary.” “What’s unusual about the pig?” asked Mrs. Zuckerman, who was beginning to recover from her scare. “Well, I don’t really know yet,” said Mr. Zuckerman. “But we have received a sign, Edith—a mysterious sign. A miracle has happened on this farm. There is a large spider’s web in the doorway of the barn cellar, right over the pigpen, and when Lurvy went to feed the pig this morning, he noticed the web because it was foggy, and you know how a spider’s web looks very distinct in a fog. And right spang in the middle of the web there were the words ‘Some Pig.’ The words were woven right into the web. They were actually part of the web, Edith. I know, because I have been down there and seen them. It says, ‘Some Pig,’ just as clear as clear can be. There can be no mistake about it. A miracle has happened and a sign has occurred here on earth, right on our farm, and we have no ordinary pig.” “Well,” said Mrs. Zuckerman, “it seems to me you’re a little off. It seems to me we have no ordinary spider.” “Oh, no,” said Zuckerman. “It’s the pig that’s unusual. It says so, right there in the middle of the web.” “Maybe

For most people, having company for more than three of four days is a serious mistake, the equivalent to sawing a large hole in the roof and leaving all the doors and windows open in the middle of winter. Out of a desire to be helpful or the need to be kind, they let themselves in for prolonged spells of entertaining, forfeit their privacy and their easy understanding, knowing that the result will be an estrangement―however temporary―between husband and wife, and that nothing proportionate to this is to be gained by the giving up of beds, the endless succession of heavy meals, the afternoon drives. Either the human race is incurably hospitable or else people forget from one time to the next, as women forget the pains of labor, how weeks and months are lost that can never be recovered. The guest also loses―even the so-called easy guest who makes her own bed, helps with the dishes and doesn't require entertaining. She sees things no outsider should see, overhears whispered conversations about herself from two rooms away, finds old letters in books, and is sooner or later the cause of and witness to scenes that because of her presence do not clear the air. When she has left, she expects to go on being a part of the family she has stayed with so happily and for so long; she expects to be remembered; instead of which, her letters, full of intimate references and family jokes, go unanswered. She sends beautiful presents to the children at a time when she really cannot afford any extravagance and the presents also go unacknowledged. In the end her feelings are hurt, and she begins to doubt―quite unjustly―the genuineness of the family's attachment to her.

The Big Picture: From Abraham to Armageddon Down through the ages, the sons of Jacob have survived trials, persecution, and thousands of years in exile from their homeland. The Scriptures foretold the dispersion of the Jews and also of their regathering toward the end of the age. After a long absence from a country left in desolation, the Jews have come home to the land that God promised to Abraham: “…a land that has recovered from war, whose people were gathered from many nations to the mountains of Israel, which had long been desolate. They had been brought out from the nations, and now all of them live in safety.” (Ezekiel 38:8). The other branch of Abraham’s family—the sons of Ishmael— are the Islamic Arabs that inhabit the lands surrounding Israel. Ishmael’s descendants epitomize the spirit and temperament that the Bible predicted more than three millennia ago: “…his hand will be against everyone and everyone’s hand against him, and he will live in hostility toward all his brothers” (Genesis 16:12). The Prophet Ezekiel tells us that these same sons of Ishmael will be among the enemies who seek to destroy Israel in the end times: “And thou shalt come up against my people of Israel, as a cloud to cover the land; it shall be in the latter days, and I will bring thee against my land…” (Ezekiel 38:16). The day is soon coming when Ishmael’s descendants will unite as one: “…they receive authority for one hour as kings with the beast.” Their ultimate purpose being the fulfillment of a long-held dream: the annihilation of Israel. Muslims have been taught for centuries that the Last Day will not come until they wage a final war against the Jews and rid the world of them once and for all. They believe that only after this is accomplished will Muslims enjoy a golden age of peace, justice, and worldwide Islamic rule. However, the Bible tells us that God has other plans: Before Israel can be destroyed He is going to intervene, and bring to ruin those who seek her destruction. On that day, multitudes of Jews will realize that Jesus is Messiah, and many Muslims will realize that they have made a fateful mistake. Though most are unaware, we, today, are witnessing the fruition of seeds that were planted nearly four thousand years ago with the birth of Abraham’s sons. God promised Abraham that He would make great nations of both Isaac and Ishmael. To be sure, one would be hard pressed to argue that He did not. The Jewish and Arabic peoples have had an immeasurable impact on the world and can now be found at center stage in the arena of world politics and conflict. Thus, the history of mankind will reach its pinnacle, essentially where it began, in a region literally located at the center of the globe; more specifically, Israel and the nations that surround her.

If we lived forever, there would be time to recover from mistakes of twenty years duration.

For this very short time in your life, and possibly never again, you will be given a very unique gift: a supremely rich environment with ample time, space, safety and people to explore whatever interests you intensely, to push yourself, to make mistakes and recover from them, and to live as deeply as you'd like in the hope of finding yourself or, at least, the beginnings of yourself. Such an opportunity may never present itself again. So, embrace it and.... Carpe College!

Oops! "Insanity is repeating the same mistakes and expecting different results." Basic Text, p. 23 Mistakes! We all know how it feels to make them. Many of us feel that our entire lives have been a mistake. We often regard our mistakes with shame or guilt—at the very least, with frustration and impatience. We tend to see mistakes as evidence that we are still sick, crazy, stupid, or too damaged to recover. In truth, mistakes are a very vital and important part of being human. For particularly stubborn people (such as addicts), mistakes are often our best teachers. There is no shame in making mistakes. In fact, making new mistakes often shows our willingness to take risks and grow. It's helpful, though, if we learn from our mistakes; repeating the same ones may be a sign that we're stuck. And expecting different results from the same old mistakes—well, that's what we call "insanity!" It just doesn't work.

My mother asked him, as a favor, to have a talk with me, so that he might refute my errors, drive the evil out of my mind, and replace it with good. He often did this when he found suitable pupils, but he refused to do it for me—a wise decision, as I afterwards realized. He told her that I was still unripe for instruction because, as she had told him, I was brimming over with the novelty of the heresy. . . . “Leave him alone,” he said. “Just pray to God for him. From his own reading he will discover his mistakes.”14

My heroes are the ones who survived doing it wrong, who made mistakes, but recovered from them. -Bono

And so you are here to, what, grant mercy?” I closed my eyes and groaned. “Tamara. No one knows I’m here, and if you don’t like my idea, then no one will know I was here unless you blab. I won’t. I just wondered, if I invite you to come with me to Savona’s picnic this afternoon, think you things might just go back to how they were?” She flushed right up to her hairline, a rose-red blush that made her suddenly look like a young girl. “As his supplicant? I bow to your expertise in wielding the hiltless knife.” And she swept a jerky curtsy, her hands shaking. “Life! I didn’t mean that,” I said hastily. “Yes, I think I can see it’s a bad idea. All right, how’s this: You and I go out for a walk. Right now. You don’t even have to talk to me. But wouldn’t that shut up all the gossipmongers--leastwise pull the teeth of their gossip--if we seem to be on terms of amity, as if last night was just a very good joke?” Again her posture eased, from anger to wariness. “And in return?” “Nothing. I don’t need anything! Or what I need no one can give me, which is wisdom.” I thought of my mistakes and winced. Then said, “Just let things go back to the way they were, except you don’t have to think of me as an enemy. I’m not in love with Savona any more than he is with me, and I don’t see myself changing my mind. If I did, I don’t believe he’d like it,” I added, considering the elusive Duke. “No, I don’t think I could fall in love with him, handsome though he is, because I don’t accept any of that huff he gives me about my great beauty and all that. I’d have to trust a man’s words before I could love him. I think.” She took a deep, slightly shaky breath. “Very well.” And so we went. It wasn’t a very comfortable walk. She hardly exchanged five words with me; and every single person who saw us stared then hastily recovered behind the remorselessly polite mask of the true courtier. It would have been funny if I had been an observer and not a participant, an idea that gave me a disconcerting insight into gossip. As I walked beside the silent Tamara, I realized that despite how entertaining certain stories were, at the bottom of every item of gossip there was someone getting hurt. When we were done with a complete circuit of the gardens and had reached her house again, I said, “Well, that’s that. See you at the ball tonight, right?” She half put out a hand, then said, “Your brother’s wedding is nearing.” “Yes?” “Did you know it is customary for the nearest relation to give a party for the family that is adopting into yours?” I whistled. “No, I didn’t. And I could see how Nee would feel strange telling me. Well, I’m very grateful to you.” She curtsied. Again it was the deep one, petitioner to sovereign, but this time it was low and protracted and wordlessly sincere.

Lee Sedol wins game 4!!! Congratulations! He was too good for us today and pressured #AlphaGo into a mistake that it couldn’t recover from

Before long, something unexpected happened to test my newfound faith. Mom had to go in for a simple, twenty-minute surgery. I went with Dad to the hospital, and we waited while she was in the operating room. Forty-five minutes went by, and no one came out to tell us anything. Then a nurse came out, and one look at her face told me the news was not good. “Look, there’s a problem,” she said. “We haven’t been able to wake her up. She’s gone into a coma. We have a machine breathing for her, and we think she’s going to be okay, but she needs to wake up.” Dad looked at me, his face white and his eyes big and scared. We had no idea what was going on, but we knew it was bad. Really bad. He grabbed my shoulder and said through tears, “We’re fixin’ to pray for your mom right now.” I’d never heard him pray as fervently. He was frantic and telling God about how much we needed Mom in our family. We knew her life was at stake, and we both were scared she would never wake up. The rest of the family came to the hospital, and we gathered, praying our hearts out. We finally got in to see her, and the sight of Mom on a respirator, her chest rising and falling with the help of the machine, freaked us all out. Eventually, we found out what had happened. There had been a mistake, and Mom had been given too much anesthetic, sending her into a serious coma. Two days later, after many tears and huddles with family and desperate prayers, Mom came out of it, woke up, and started breathing on her own. I knew deep in my heart that she could have died, but God had chosen to answer our prayers, and that really built my faith. I was such a new Christian that I’m not sure how I would have reacted if something would have happened to my mom. I also felt like it drew me closer to my dad, as we had been the first ones to hear the news and to pray for her together. I saw a side of him I didn’t see very often, how much he loved and needed my mom and how much he trusted God to help him in a very bad situation. No matter whose fault it was, we were just relieved Mom made it out alive. She recovered from the experience, and with her cooking during those months, my appetite came back, and I gained fifty pounds. I even got a little chunky, so I started working out so I could look and feel better. Those three months of house arrest were probably the best days of my life. My thinking had changed, my heart’s desires were back on track, and I had hope for the future.

you usually need more money to blitzscale than to fastscale, because you have to keep enough capital in reserve to recover from the many mistakes you’re likely to make along the way.

And two, because there was another thing I was mad at Martha for, it had been simmering for the last few days of perhaps for the last few months, and in the same moment, there in the library, I understood exactly what this murky resentment toward her was, and I understood that I would never be able to express it. I resented her for having said, back in October, that she didn't think Cross would be my boyfriend. She had made it true! If she'd said she could picture it, it didn't mean it would have happened. But by saying she couldn't, she'd pretty much sealed that it wouldn't. Had she not understood how literally I took her, how much I trusted her advice? She had discouraged me from being hopeful, and how can you ever forgive a person for that? And how could I ever tell her any of this? It would be too ugly. For me to have messed up, to have done a thing that required her forgiveness, was not atypical. For her to be the one at fault would unbalance our friendship. I would not try to explain anything, and who knew if I could have explained it anyway? The mistake I had made was so public and obvious, and the one she'd made was private and subjective; I was its only witness. NO, I would not tell her anything; I would be good old incompetent Lee, lovably flawed Lee, a golden retriever who just can't stay out of the creek and keeps returning to the house with wet, smelly fur. "So you think I betrayed the wchool?" I said, and I could tell I sounded cranky, but cranky was ( Martha would never know this) something we could recover from--cranky was a car cry from what I actually felt.

And two, because there was another thing I was mad at Martha for, it had been simmering for the last few days or perhaps for the last few months, and in the same moment, there in the library, I understood exactly what this murky resentment toward her was, and I understood that I would never be able to express it. I resented her for having said, back in October, that she didn't think Cross would be my boyfriend. She had made it true! If she'd said she could picture it, it didn't mean it would have happened. But by saying she couldn't, she'd pretty much sealed that it wouldn't. Had she not understood how literally I took her, how much I trusted her advice? She had discouraged me from being hopeful, and how can you ever forgive a person for that? And how could I ever tell her any of this? It would be too ugly. For me to have messed up, to have done a thing that required her forgiveness, was not atypical. For her to be the one at fault would unbalance our friendship. I would not try to explain anything, and who knew if I could have explained it anyway? The mistake I had made was so public and obvious, and the one she'd made was private and subjective; I was its only witness. No, I would not tell her anything; I would be good old incompetent Lee, lovably flawed Lee, a golden retriever who just can't stay out of the creek and keeps returning to the house with wet, smelly fur. "So you think I betrayed the school?" I said, and I could tell I sounded cranky, but cranky was (Martha would never know this) something we could recover from--cranky was a far cry from what I actually felt.

She would do a Tennessee Williams play Off-Broadway for a month or two, get back into fighting shape, and see what came next. Her tits, oh well, nothing to be done about that. She’d just be a little more careful in the future. A lesson learned. “Don’t worry about the magazine writer,” Buster offered. “Nobody cares about freelance writers, trust me.” Annie nodded. As far as questionable people to fuck, she’d done okay, nothing she couldn’t recover from. Same with Daniel, just a bad decision that she’d outlive. The point, she realized, was that, yes, she had made some substantial mistakes, as evidenced by the fact that she was living with her parents, but she could handle it. She could take the things that were broken and, if not put them back together, get rid of them with a minimum of unpleasantness. Then there was the small matter of their drug and alcohol dependencies. “How about this,” Buster offered. “No pain pills unless I absolutely need them, and no alcohol for you until after five P.M.” Annie thought about this for a few seconds. Yes, she decided. That was sound reasoning. “What next?” Annie thought. Though it was only talk, nothing yet having been accomplished, she felt better, stronger, faster. And she was not drunk. “This,” she thought, “could work.

Anyone can make a mistake. It's how they learn from it and recover from it that shows their true worth.

Having been an employee all his life, and trapped in the mental, maximum security prison known as job security, he did not know how to recover from his failures or learn from his mistakes, much less how to start over to replace his paycheck and his pension.

In recovering from our creative blocks, it is necessary to go gently and slowly. What we are after here is the healing of old wounds—not the creation of new ones. No high jumping, please! Mistakes are necessary! Stumbles are normal. These are baby steps. Progress, not perfection, is what we should be asking of ourselves.

Rate yourself from 1 to 5, where 1 means no/rarely (denotes you have a lack of ability) and 5 means most often/always (denotes you can do this easily): ___ I experience relationships rather than things as a source of relief when I am stressed. ___ I seek help, comfort, or support from a person rather than a thing. (In contrast, addictions are ways you get relief or distractions from unwanted feelings without needing people.) ___ I can ask for help when I am unsure of myself. ___ I can list eight feelings I experience on a regular basis. ___ I can identify and articulate these feelings with my spouse and kids. ___ I use my feelings to identify my needs, and I am able to communicate my needs and ask directly for what I need, rather than hoping someone will guess correctly. ___ I know my childhood history, so I am aware when the past is influencing my present feelings and causing me to overreact. ___ I can name five strengths I possess in my character and talents, and three weaknesses. ___ I can recover quickly from a mistake. ___ I can find middle ground in life, versus being an eternal optimist or constant pessimist. ___ I can delay gratification and wait for something I want. ___ I am aware of my spouse’s behavior when he or she is stressed and can take measures to bring him or her relief. ___ I can admit when I am wrong and apologize without saying, “I am sorry, but…” ___ I can accept criticism and feedback and thoughtfully consider it. ___ I am a good listener and know how to ask thoughtful questions. ___ I have experienced the connection and closeness that results when a conflict is resolved. ___ I can say no and draw boundaries even when it makes someone mad. ___ I know how to use my anger to identify more vulnerable feelings underneath the anger and communicate the more vulnerable feelings. ___ I can control the level of my reactivity so I am able to stay engaged in difficult conversations. ___ I am comfortable with reality and don’t minimize problems. ___ I can keep listening and explore another’s feelings, experiences, and point of view even when I disagree with him or her. ___ I can ask to be held or hugged when I need comfort. ___ I am not afraid of conflict, because I have skills to compromise, negotiate, and usually resolve conflict. ___ I don’t hold on to resentments and am able to forgive my spouse. ___ Because I have relationships with God and close friends, I don’t expect my spouse to meet every need. ___ I have compassion for my spouse in his or her areas of weakness because I understand the childhood wounds that contributed to those areas of struggle. ___ I don’t have secrets I am keeping from my spouse. ___ I can ask for a do-over and try again when I blow it with my spouse.

There was certainly a battle, but I get the sense that you are referring to something very specific.” “There is only one battle.” “One?” I asked, curious. His eyes flashed, and he looked straight at me. “Union or separation,” he said definitively. “Once again, sir, you have my undivided attention.” “Indeed,” John boomed, as if he had been given permission to hold forth. “The Greeks and the Pharisees make the same mistake, though in different ways—a large mistake,” he exclaimed, with a sigh of lament, “and apparently these Gnostics are their children.” I knew to the core of my soul that we had arrived at the heart of everything. I could see it in his face and in the way he held his head. I was not sure what he meant by union or separation, but it was clear that to him this was the crosshairs of the cosmos. “I think I could come up with some reasonable ideas about the connections between the Greeks and the Gnostics, but how could the Pharisees be connected?” “The truth of all truths: Jesus. Jesus in his Father and us in him. Without Jesus, what do you have?” “Not much, I reckon. Just ourselves.” “Ourselves and ideas of separation from God,” St. John declared in his most authoritative apostolic tone. “Listen, young Aidan.” And as I did, I felt that my world was about to be shattered. “The assumption of separation is the great darkness.” His words hit me like a blow to my gut, but before I could recover he continued on. “Then, you see, we have to find our way to God. The Greeks offer their way through their minds; the Pharisees offer theirs through external rules. This is Ophis’s chief trick—blind us to how close the Lord is, closer than breath: we’re in him, and he’s in us. Ophis deceives the nations by one lie—separation. Our joy”—his face lit up like the rising sun—“is to tell the truth, let the light shine—and persevere the tribulation of enlightenment.” “Wow,

Now, the next secret is to do the unexpected. When I attack you, I expect you to run or pull away. Come at me with everything you have. If I grab you, go completely limp.” “Limp?” He nodded. “Ever tried to pick up a pissed-off toddler? Even though they don’t weigh much, they go completely limp and unbalance you. What happens when you’re off balance?” This one she knew all too well from her dancing. “You hit the floor.” “That’s right, and when an attacker is down, you have the advantage. Remember, one, two, three, four. No mercy. No leniency. Attack until they’re down for the count. Don’t pull away to run. It only gives them a chance to recover and come at you again and by then, they’re really pissed off and wanting blood. You beat them down until they can’t get up. Mercilessly. Coldly. Them or you.” There was no mistaking the deadly earnestness of his emotions on this point and she never wanted to be on the receiving end of that venom. “You are one scary man.” “And I’m alive even though I should be dead.

You could tell me you didn’t take the deed and run.” “I don’t think I need to. I’m pretty sure you can march your ass back up to your apartment and figure that out for yourself. Because if there was a deed to be had, it’s still there.” I got into my car and slammed the door, not waiting for his response. Before I could buckle my seatbelt, Con ripped the door open again and invaded the cabin. “Oh, no you don’t, princess. Changed my mind. You don’t get to leave.” He snatched the keys from the ignition and shoved them in his pocket before lifting me out of my seat and tossing me over his shoulder. “Put me down. I’m leaving!” “You’re not going anywhere until I’m good and ready to let you go. I already made that mistake before. Took me two fucking years to recover from it. Not doing it again.” “You’re insane!” “And you’re the one making me fucking crazy, so get over it.

that’s what being human is all about. At times we make poor choices and it’s not those mistakes that define us, but the way we handle them and recover from them .

Is it so easy, then, to recover from our mistakes? To have a do-over? The idea heartens me. The little dog is alive. It's as if my choices from the past have been erased and I can begin with a clean slate.

When we cut our price, we sold really well (because when you follow the method in this book, it works), but we ran out of stock. It was a predictable outcome. Being out of stock is the worst thing that can possibly happen to your new business because you’re essentially out of business when you can’t take orders. We had to wait out the four-week lag for another shipment to cross an ocean and get to the Amazon warehouse. When we finally got new stock back in, we were essentially starting over. Yes, we had customer reviews, but our momentum was dead. We had to run another discount to get moving again. We did recover, but that one mistake set us back months. I can’t say whether an extra month of planning would have kept us from making that awful choice; probably not, honestly. You can’t control for everything. Your goal is just to take your product from an idea to a physical item in a customer’s hand. It’s simpler than most people think it is. Find the right supplier, get samples, refine with research, put in a small order, and get the product online. That’s all you need to worry about right now. Don’t overthink it. Just fix the mistakes as they come.

To treat the lives lost on that cold South Dakota day in 1890 as merely symbolic is to disrespect those loves. It is also to disrespect the more than 200 Lakota who survived Wounded Knee and lived on to experience the pain of loss, yes, but much else as well. They survived to live and grow, to get married, and have babies. They survived to hold on to their Lakota ways, or convert to Christianity and let those ways recede. They survived to settle on the reservation and later, to move to cities. They survived to go to school, and to college, and to work. They survived to make mistakes and to recover from them. They survived to make history, to make meaning, to make life. This book is about them; and it is about Indians of other communities and tribes around the country who survived their own holocausts and went on to make their own lives and histories and in so doing, to make and remake the story of the country itself.

with it?” Unfortunately, the downside of their independence and self-reliance is that these kids can forget their innocence much too early, and it is difficult to reclaim it later in life. They need to recover a little of the open-heartedness that defines childhood for others. They need to remember that time in life when they didn’t need to be in charge or control to feel safe, when they could trust others to protect them. They need the lessons that mistakes and weakness teach us: the value of an apology, the experience of forgiveness and the lessons we only learn from following another leader. If their boldness doesn’t get shaped and channeled toward becoming a force for good in the course of development, later on it can bloom into full-blown oppositional stances toward the world.

Because that’s how life tends to work in all its aspects. We try things out, and make mistakes, and recover, and learn from our experiences.

Again, most hiring managers are desperate to get the process started, and without this review process, they tend to get fuzzy and/or out-of-date job descriptions. It is very hard to recover from this mistake. The hiring process will inevitably run into trouble—even fail—if the JD does not clearly articulate the job responsibilities and required skills. The people doing the phone screens and in-person interviews need to be clear on the JD so they can ask the right questions to collect the information required to make their decision.

People make mistakes. It’s what makes someone a person. How they recover from these mistakes is what divides a person between decency and wickedness.

The wise is a fool aware of the reasons for his sorrow His mind on the opportune moment recovering a key memory The fool is the one who thinks wisdom to be an incessant state of mind

change, make mistakes, and recover. Consider this: Without practice, we could never grow to be more like Jesus. Practice requires that we make mistakes. The Atonement, therefore, provides the conditions for us to practice without fear of permanent failure since it can heal all things as we strive to become more like Jesus.

The Atonement allows us to grow, change, make mistakes, and recover. Consider this: Without practice, we could never grow to be more like Jesus. Practice requires that we make mistakes. The Atonement, therefore, provides the conditions for us to practice without fear of permanent failure since it can heal all things as we strive to become more like Jesus.

Focuses on your mistakes and ignores their own.

The obstacles society puts in his path decrease only marginally, and that in no small part due to his own efforts. But after the transition point of Memory, Miles begins to nurture his mental and emotional health, to harness his manias to a productivity that is not self-consuming, and to find tools to light the way out of depressions. This development is highlighted in the later novel A Civil Campaign: Miles does not cease making bad decisions, but he has learned how to prevent some and identify others much more quickly and has developed tools for recovering from mistakes. For me, this is a healthy vision of life with a disability. It is not a slow freeze or a self-immolation, but a balance of self and selves. I’ve often struggled with seeing myself as a fractured broken assemblage, but I have been slowly discovering that the secret is not to snuff out these selves. There is no me that is free of myself. The challenge is to find that central self and nurture it; to use its strengths to temper other states and selves. Making decisions is still hard, but Miles finds, if not a map, then at least a light in the darkness.

So there is no resource-management strategy that can prevent disasters, just as there is no political system that provides only good leaders and good policies, nor a scientific method that provides only true theories. But there are ideas that reliably cause disasters, and one of them is, notoriously, the idea that the future can be scientifically planned. The only rational policy, in all three cases, is to judge institutions, plans and ways of life according to how good they are at correcting mistakes: removing bad policies and leaders, superseding bad explanations, and recovering from disasters.

Let your hurt be the source of the greatest compassion, the deepest love and understanding. You can do anything. Walk through it, don’t numb or hide. It’s been twenty-eight years since I stopped drugs and dedicated myself to a spiritual path, but those hard drugs I did, the heroin, cocaine, and meth, they hurt me bad, it took a long time to really recover from ’em. I hope for you that you don’t waste your energy there. Even the weed. Man, I was way too damn young for that shit, it made growing up a more difficult challenge than it needed to be. For years and years, I made the mistake of trying to run away, before I learned to surrender, accept my pain as a blessing, trust in the love, and let it change me.

Pros make as many mistakes as amateurs; they’ve just learned how to gracefully recover from their mistakes.

We are all damaged. We have all been hurt. We have all had to learn painful lessons. We are all recovering from some mistake, loss, betrayal, abuse, injustice or misfortune. All of life is a process of recovery that never ends. We each must find ways to accept and move through the pain and to pick ourselves back up.

One mistake,” George told me a few months ago. “That's all it takes, and you're dead. Before, you could recover from a mistake. Now even the smallest screw-up can be fatal. Remember that.

Kris rode in silence, only now beginning to realize that by not giving her a little comfort and encouragement that he had made a nearly fatal mistake. Her self-esteem was far more fragile than he had guessed. And her nerves were plainly gone. Now he thought he knew why she would venture no judgments at all, and gave him her opinions hesitantly, and only when directly asked for them. When he asked her, back at the Station, she avoided answering all questions about how she was feeling, answering only that she was “all right.” He began to wonder if she’d ever recover from the incident ... and he began to fear that he’d ruined her.

My biggest mistakes include, but are not limited to: Revenge trading. Repeatedly trading the same choppy stock over and over as if it personally owes me money. Overtrading. Thinking I can recover from losses by taking low quality setups in rapid succession. Not stopping at my daily goal or 11:30 AM. Slowly giving back all of my gains. Not stopping out. Freezing like a deer in the headlights and letting a small loss grow into a big one. Not taking a break after a bad trade. Continuing to trade when my psychology is in tatters. Thinking I need to be in every move. Forcing bad trades rather than waiting for the chart to provide confirmation.

My biggest mistakes include, but are not limited to: Revenge trading. Repeatedly trading the same choppy stock over and over as if it personally owes me money. Overtrading. Thinking I can recover from losses by taking low quality setups in rapid succession. Not stopping at my daily goal or 11:30 AM. Slowly giving back all of my gains. Not stopping out. Freezing like a deer in the headlights and letting a small loss grow into a big one. Not taking a break after a bad trade. Continuing to trade when my psychology is in tatters. Thinking I need to be in every move. Forcing bad trades rather than waiting for the chart to provide confirmation. Averaging down. Increasing share size when losing. Trying to double down and recoup losses.

It’s a mistake to judge by appearances or to judge a man by how he looks while he recovers from injury.

The possibility (probability) of making a mistake has the power to paralyze us. Not wanting to ever misstep, we set up strict guidelines and fence upon fence. But most of the time, we are not trying to protect ourselves from bad decisions as much as we are trying to protect ourselves from the punishment we’ve learned comes with missstepping. But if our choices are being driven by fear instead of faith, they are wrong regardless of whether we ever step outside the boundaries or not.8 Instead of being paralyzed by the possibility of making mistakes, we must learn to trust the goodness of God—to trust that even if we do fail, even when we do make a mistake, His goodness will lead us to repentance and bring us safely home.

In Tsai's go‐go years, high‐flying stocks with​ positive momentum were all the rage. Polaroid, Xerox, IBM all traded at price‐to‐earnings ratios of more than 50. These expensive stocks were supported by explosively high growth rates. From 1964 to 1968, IBM, Polaroid, and Xerox grew their earnings per share at 88%, 22%, and 171%, respectively. Others like University Computing, Mohawk Data, and Fairchild Camera traded at several‐hundred times their trailing 12‐month earnings. The latter three and many others like them would go on to lose more than 80% in the 1969–1970 bear market. The Manhattan Fund was up almost 40% in 1967, more than double the Dow. But in 1968, he was down 7% and was ranked 299th out of 305 funds tracked by Arthur Lipper.16 When the market crash came, the people responsible were entirely unprepared. By 1969, half of the salesmen on Wall Street had only come into the business since 196217 and had seen nothing but a rising market. And when stocks turned, the highfliers that went up the fastest also came down the fastest. For example, National Student Marketing, which Tsai bought 122,000 shares for $5 million, crashed from $143 in December 1969 to $3.50 in July 1970.18 Between September and November 1929, $30 billion worth of stock value vanished; in the1969‐1970 crash, the loss was $300 billion!19 The gunslingers of the 1960s were thinking only about return and paid little attention to risk. This carefree attitude was a result of the market they were playing in. From 1950 through the end of 1965, the Dow was within 5% of its highs 66% of the time, and within 10% of its highs 87% of the time. There was virtually no turbulence at all. From 1950 to 1965, the only bear market was “The Kennedy Slide,” which chopped 27% off the S&P 500, and recovered in just over a year.

60. Don’t Dwell On Mistakes Mistakes are for learning from, not dwelling on. If you muck something up, spend a few minutes working out why, learn the lesson, then move swiftly on. Dwelling on mistakes, endlessly replaying scenes in your head, only makes them grow. So the next time you find yourself lying in bed at night, cursing your stupidity or foolishness, it’s worth reminding yourself that, in all probability, the mistake isn’t that big a deal to anyone else. Too often we can be our own hardest critic and worst enemy. Let it go and don’t waste more energy on regrets than you need to. Look objectively. Learn humbly. Smile positively. Then move on, wiser and smarter than before. There’s a very good reason why you made a mistake: you’re human! We all make them from time to time. Which is why we should also be understanding and forgiving when someone else makes one. Ever heard the phrase ‘When you’re in a hole, stop digging’? It’s the same with mistakes. Don’t give the mistake more power than it warrants by squandering precious time worrying about it. Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose. Oh, and if you want to be really smart, then learn from the mistakes that other people make, so as to avoid the pain yourself. (A newspaper is a good place to start, and it is one of the few benefits of reading them!)

Looking at the sales statistics is not going to help you find an answer any more than looking at the number of people recovering from bloodletting will help you find out if the treatment is effective. The reason is simple: you can’t observe the counterfactual. You don’t know whether the change in sales was caused by something else; something, perhaps, you hadn’t even considered.

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But it was a mistake. Even if it worked out, she had made a mistake joining this project. The strangeness of it, and the way everyone worked so hard to pretend that it was perfectly normal, was going to change Izzy in ways that she would not recover from. But Izzy was used to making mistakes. She was used to living inside it. The key, she knew, was to bend and shape and worry the mistake until it turned into something else, something that would allow her to survive.