bcg blog

Broken Plates

I’ve had this picture in my mind for several weeks. Maybe I saw it somewhere, I don’t know. I’m not exactly sure how I will use it in the future, but I do know what it’s led to in the present. Let me describe it to you.

A juggler is on stage. The camera, my view, is directly behind him looking into the audience with the performer in the foreground. The auditorium is packed - standing room only. The cheers crescendo as the challenge of each trick grows evermore difficult. The naive on-lookers rise to their feet to celebrate the performers final display of amazing talent and skill. He makes it look easy, like all great performers do. The audience's applause is thunderous and brings a wry smile to the juggler’s face, which is now glistening with a hint of sweat. He bows, nods, and stands with his hands raised in the universal sign of victory. 

The camera holds for a few seconds to allow him to soak in the appreciation of his performance before spinning three hundred sixty degrees to offer the audience’s view. The performer, still front and center. As the curtains jerk open, a long, winding path is revealed. It’s a well-traveled path, worn like the path to your favorite childhood climbing tree. As you look closer, something along the edge of the path begins to come into focus. The path is outlined with thousands of broken plates. 

The plates evoke different reactions from the two participants in the picture, the juggler and the audience. The juggler pays them no mind, gives them little attention. His acceptance of them conveys an expectedness that he had long ago willingly chosen the moment he made the decision to become a great juggler. The audience, on the other hand, is taken aback. The messiness is a surprise, even disappointing to some. They prefer the polished, flawless performance without having to acknowledge all the failures it took to get there. 

I think we’re much better at assuming the perspective of the audience than that of the performer, personally and as a leader.

Why Should We Care?
Before we approach the topic of the plates, we all need to embrace that we are on center stage in our own lives. We’re not audience members, we’re the star. Some people act as if they deserve to be the lead character in someone else’s story. And others are simply unwilling to assume the responsibility of standing center stage in their own performance. Once we’ve embraced that, once we fully own our path and direction of life, only then are we able to shift from the perspective of an audience member to the performer. 
We’re not the only ones with a mess behind the curtain. Every single person that has ever done something they would deem extraordinary has gotten to that point on a path littered with broken plates. Social media loves to act as if the performing version of the juggler is the only one that exists. It’s not. And, not only that, we shouldn’t even want it to be. 
To know that the excellence we watch in the World Cup or Olympics is tied directly to ten thousand failures gives us hope. So when the plates keep breaking on our own path, we don’t panic. We realize nothing is wrong with us, there’s just more plates to be broken on our path.
Every leader worth following has a trail of broken plates behind them. The good ones just stopped being embarrassed by it. They know the mess isn't proof they failed. It’s proof they haven’t. The trail is their real resume, not the bogus page everyone hands to their potential employer. Those same leaders also realize it’s their job to help their people appreciate their broken plates and to keep breaking them. It’s easy for a leader to want perfection from those they lead, dismissing the need for all those broken plates along their path.
The real danger is believing you're supposed to have a clean path. That belief is what keeps people from ever walking on stage at all. When it comes to excellence and growth, safe is one of the surest ways to not get it.
REAL TALK - Action Steps
Embracing failure and struggle is easy to say, but very difficult to do consistently. But, no broken plates means no standing ovation. Here are a few ideas to help you lean into it a little more.

• Thank You Adversity 
  
  • Write a thank you letter to one of your broken plates. How did it change you? What did it help you see? What do you do differently now because of it? Don’t miss the opportunity to grow from the struggle.
    

• Wear the Scar
  
  • The next time you have an opportunity to explain or justify a failure, don’t. Resist the urge to minimize the challenge or struggle. Embrace it, sit with it, and appreciate the growth you know will come from it.
    

• Respect the Plates
  
  • The next great performance you see, consider the broken plates that had to go into it. Applaud the performance, of course, but consider the failures it had to take to perform at that level. You know they’re there. It’s not a guess. Respect the plates, not just the bow.
    

You're not seeing the whole show, game, or performance. You're seeing the part they want the public to see. Go build your own pile of broken plates. It's the only path that leads to a center stage worth standing on.

Checkout Surrender the Outcome on Amazon and order The Score That Matters with Ryan Hawk & Brook Cupps. The latest blog from Blue Collar Grit can be found here!

​