Abundance in failure

Do you remember this guy?

Many of you will remember Billy.  You were there when he closed the first TEDxDonovanCorrectional event in May 2017.  Sweating bullets due to the intense heat we unexpectedly had that day, he delivered his TEDx talk “Rediscovering hope through self-forgiveness”.

What you may not know is that the talk you heard in person or online was only a fraction of his talk.  He unknowingly skipped about ¼ of it.  After speaking of his brother’s murder in retaliation for Billy’s actions and Billy’s subsequent murdering of Jimmy, he was supposed to speak about the accidental death of his beloved cousin Yohun.  The two of them were sitting on their grandmother’s porch and Billy was spinning a gun on his finger.  The gun went off and the bullet killed Yohun, who died in Billy’s arms.  With the death of both his brother and his cousin, the need – and challenge – of self-forgiveness became apparent.

Billy didn’t realize he had skipped the part about Yohun until after the TEDx event.  I wondered how he was going to respond to this.  With anger and shame for having missed this important part and “dishonoring” the memory of Yohun?  With understanding and acceptance that it happened exactly as it was meant to?  Seeing what didn’t happen or seeing what did?

It wasn’t until the following Tuesday that I had a chance to speak to him about it.  Billy came up to me and said “Mariette, I skipped the part about Yohun.”  “I know.  What did you feel when you realized this?” Billy answered: “This is Yohun’s way of saying ‘it’s time to let go.’”

Oh wow.  Not only had Billy accepted the fact that he hadn’t delivered the talk he had been preparing for four months, he also received the insight from this miss.  Billy had seen that there is a gift in our challenges.  When things don’t go our way, we have a choice to see the lack in what didn’t happen or to see the abundance in what did.

Shortly after his TEDx talk, Billy was transferred to another prison.  Which, per prison rules, cut off any contact with him.  This is one of the hardest things about prison: the ripping apart of relationships that have been built over months and years, often without forewarning or ability to say good-bye.

As suddenly as he’d “disappeared,” Billy “reappeared” a few weeks ago – almost six years after I last saw him – after a judge resentenced him to the 33 years of time served with no parole.  Within days of his release, I had the privilege of getting a message from him.  Then a phone call.  Then FaceTime.  

My heart skipped a beat when I saw him.  I walk this funky tight rope of continuously holding many of the folks from our circle in my heart, while simultaneously releasing if or when I may see them ever again.  Any time my heart aches to know how they’re doing, I send them love, trusting they’re supported, right where they’re at.

I even had my first hug with Billy within a week, as I had a trip planned to LA.  The first hug is one of my favorite parts of the journey.  I finally get to express, with physical action, the pent-up care and love of years of relationship.

Billy also learned in our conversations that his talk has been seen online by over 146,000 people.  With the hindsight of six years, it’s easy to see the gifts received and created by Billy.  Billy’s strength was to see the gift in his “failure” of his incomplete delivery of his TEDx talk.

Invitation to bring this into your life: Next time you find yourself reeling from your “failure,” from “missing the mark,” from “how could I be so stupid” or any other form of self-condemnation and blame, invite yourself to see the abundance in what did happen instead of the lack in what didn’t.  The gift is there, even if you cannot see it right away.  Yes, this may require a bit of trust, but that trust weighs a lot less than self-destruction.