I was very upset. It was more than a week that I had smiled at anyone at office. Failure was a little too much for me to bear. I was not willing to let go of it.
While it made no difference to anybody around me, it made a huge difference to me and anyone who cared for me. I was not able to concentrate on my work. I was losing it with every passing day.
My boss was unlike any others. I was happy working with him. When many others would quit companies and blame it on their bosses, I was willing to work because of my boss.
He too was amongst the few who were bothered about my behavior.
On a Monday, when I had just logged into my computer I saw a mail from my Boss. The subject read – “Building Sand Castles”. The mail had a nice story in it.
Hot sun. Salty air. Rhythmic waves.
A little boy is on his knees scooping and packing the sand with plastic shovels into a bright blue bucket. Then he upends the bucket on the surface and lifts it. And, to the delight of the little architect, a castle tower is created.
All afternoon he will work. Spooning out the moat. Packing the walls. Bottle tops will be sentries. Popsicle sticks will be bridges. A sandcastle will be built.
Big city. Busy streets. Rumbling traffic.
A man is in his office. At his desk he shuffles papers into stacks and delegates assignments. He cradles the phone on his shoulder and punches the keyboard with his fingers. Numbers are juggled and contracts are signed and much to the delight of the man, a profit is made.
All his life he will work. Formulating the plans. Forecasting the future. Annuities will be sentries. Capital gains will be bridges. An empire will be built.
Two builders of two castles. They have much in common. They shape granules into grandeurs. They see nothing and make something. They are diligent and determined. And for both the tide will rise and the end will come.
Yet that is where the similarities cease. For the boy sees the end while the man ignores it. Watch the boy as the dusk approaches.
As the waves near, the wise child jumps to his feet and begins to clap. There is no sorrow. No fear. No regret. He knew this would happen. He is not surprised. And when the great breaker crashes into his castle and his masterpiece is sucked into the sea, he smiles. He smiles, picks up his tools, takes his father’s hand, and goes home.
The grownup, however, is not so wise. As the wave of years collapses on his castle he is terrified. He hovers over the sandy monument to protect it. He blocks the waves from the walls he has made. Salt-water soaked and shivering he snarls at the incoming tide.
“It’s my castle,” he defies.
The ocean need not respond. Both know to whom the sand belongs…
I don’t know much about sandcastles. But children do. Watch them and learn. Go ahead and build, but build with a child’s heart. When the sun sets and the tides take – applaud. Salute the process of life and go home.
Indeed an inspiring tale. But that was the tale of sandcastles – ones that were built to be destroyed. While the co-relation was nicely built to a corporate employee, the story did not quite catch up with me then.
It took me a few years to understand.
But when I did, I felt so very peaceful that rejections no more impacted me.
There’s a lot you expect when you are working – Appreciation, Promotion, Pay hike. The sandcastles that you build are aimed at one of these.
But then they are sandcastles built with sand that doesn’t really belong to you.
Build and go through the process. Enjoy every ounce of it. But if the ocean takes it back, don’t be disappointed.
Instead, gather yourself and start all over again.
Rejections can make you go into a shell, like what it did to me.
It is important that you don’t go into a shell and destroy yourself but at the same time don’t just let it go without learning something from it. Be a little disappointed too.
Because if you don’t, then the motivation to do something different is dead and there ends your corporate journey, thanks to the law of the jungle which says, “Survival of the fittest”.
Image Credit – Sara Heinrichs and Andrew Robertson