If life came down to a single definition, I would choose to describe it as a succession of choices
(Some of them wrong).
But still leading us down a path determined by that choice.
Walk or take the bus?
Enter this street or not?
To forgive or live with the grudge?
Forgive yourself or live guilted?
Allow yourself or continue to wish?
The choice is made and life is given.
Sometimes, a choice proves wrong and life takes us to a scenery of despair, which does not allow for peace or sleep.
No matter how small this choice, when we find ourselves in a place we don’t want to be, we want to get out, we want to escape from there.
And even if they are choices that make us hit rock bottom. When we reach the limit of any place we know—I don’t want to and I don’t go beyond here—we realize the idea of how much mistakes help to know oneself. How much better it is possible to know ourselves and at least to know where we don’t want to go, even if we don’t know which direction we would like to go.
The millionaire-contribution of all the errors”:
In the richness that comes from learning from each one of my mistakes, I hope to be able to say
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better”
as Samuel Beckett would tell us.