I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not sure anymore

April 30, 2022. No. 230

They attribute to Confucius the following thought, almost axiomatic because we accept it without the need for much argument: the cautious are very little wrong. And it is true that not walking lightly avoids problems. Each step in life must carry a forecast (a prior study); but beware: extreme caution limits daring: the man who does not make mistakes does very little in life. Any company that goes beyond conventions or formalities has a certain amount of risk.

There is a maxim widely used among businessmen: he who does not take risks does not win; it is the basic idea of ​​advertising to entice people to buy new products. One could reply to this by saying that he who does not take risks does not lose either. But, beyond marketing —and other tricks from that world of brands and labels—, the phrase can incite us in a good way: risk is something we must take, whenever we set out on a noble adventure. Not for fear that things will go wrong for us, we should shy away; the search for new horizons must be a constant purpose. Of course, it's not about jumping headlong into nonsense: what's the point of running when we're on the wrong road? Not by fleeing from failure, we must limit our possibilities.

I like my mistakes; I wouldn't want to give up the delicious freedom to be wrong, said Charles Chaplin, who loved that litmus test of discretion. Because every time we make a mistake we learn something —as long as we know how to be critical, accept failures and not wallow in self-complacency or self-pity. There are those who do not get anything out of mistakes, and infinitely stumble over the same stone, because they do not analyze the failures, the inconveniences, that their attitudes or actions bring them. They justify themselves, always blaming others, and avoid the essence of the problems. There is no worse mistake than not recognizing it.

Not taking risks almost always implies giving up a dream and, when that step is taken, it is because on the other side of the balance there is comfort, an immediate advantage, a monetary gain. If you walk through life based on indecisions, indefiniteness, and looking for a throne to take a nap, you become impeccably mediocre.

The envy of mediocrity, dissatisfaction with oneself, is a punishment received by those who are comfortable in this life (and there are not many vestiges of another); inspires sorrow, the one who ends up confessing in a dull voice: I used to be indecisive, but now I'm not sure anymore.