January blues have been in the news. We’ve passed the grey sadness of blue Monday; that moment of sinking into the reality of a new year that looks so similar to its predecessor.
Spare a thought for those with birthdays around this time. We didn’t choose our date of birth, our wintry celebration. Maybe for us, blue Monday could be marked by sapphire blue, sparkling sunlit skies; a brisk crisp walk beneath a dawn of red blue hues.
We had fish and chips for my birthday tea, washed down by fizz and Yorkshire tea.
Of course there was cake as well, essential, to differentiate our party from a meeting. Risk assessment presented me with a Covid friendly cake, no candles to blow out. Instead, a firework that looked set to hit the kitchen ceiling.
I shared my birthday weekend with a one year old grandson. We celebrated his baptism too. Teaching from the book of Proverbs, the minister spoke of Solomon’s wisdom, and asked us what we’d wish for.
It’s my wish this year to fail. To fail wisely and to fail well. To fail big. To show I’ve tried, and through it failed, dusted myself down and tried again. I shared my wish with friends. We agreed together to celebrate our failures; and risk success, the icing on the cake.
I don’t wish failure as an end in itself on myself or anyone else; but I do wish the blessing of learning from good failures.