Most people like to keep their feet securely on the ground. I've never been very good at this because I have a crazy idea that we are meant to fly. Recently, I saw a star and decided to try to claim it. I prepared adequately for my flight, and leapt at my star. I touched it for a moment, had it within my grasp, and then I fell face first straight into the mud. Stardust clung to my hands as if to mock me.

And yet, if I had to do it all over again, I would still jump.

There is a letter that I intend to keep that begins with "I am sorry to inform you" and ends with "Thank you for your interest..." I will not keep this letter because I am bitter. I won't keep it because I have regrets. I won't keep it because I am angered by the university that penned it. I won't keep this letter to look at and dream of a different life. I want to keep this letter of rejection because I am proud of it.

Yes, I am proud of it. A lifetime ago, sitting at a computer, my mouse hovered over a button titled "Submit." I knew that the most likely outcome of hitting that button was the letter I've received. I knew that I was qualified to attend this institution, which was as important as paying the full dollar for a lottery ticket. I knew that I desperately wanted acceptance and that my wishes were worthless. In my heart of hearts I envisioned victory, but even I knew that a 93% rejection rate usually equals a thin envelope in the spring. And yet, knowing all of this, I still submitted my application. So yes, I will keep this letter, because I could have avoided receiving it and did not.

I've spent most of my life in mortal fear of failure. Avoiding it would not be so difficult if I were not also addicted to success. I've been blessed with few major falls in my life, a stumble here and there as I climbed higher and higher hills, but if I wanted something I usually got it. In the last two years or so failure and I have shared some drinks. Through this I've come to understand something I had spent the better part of my life ignoring.

Failure is more important than success. All I've learned from standing on the mountain top is how much I enjoy being there and how many more mountains there are left to climb. But failure, oh I've learned much from failure. I used to horseback ride when very young. The first solid thing I remember about this pursuit happened about two years into riding. I was jumping in the sand-padded ring when I suddenly fell sideways and landed sprawled on the ground. I looked up at my instructor, and she asked me a question: "Are you going to be able to get back on today?" She offered me no help to my feet and no help mounting the horse. When I was securely in the saddle again, however, she pulled my reins in, leaned over to me, and she whispered, "Now you can say you know how to ride a horse."

The true test of character is not those times when we actually manage to grasp the star. It is when we struggle, give our blood, sweat, and tears to a task that others say is impossible, when we put everything we have into that leap up, and we still fall to the earth with no prize but the taste of blood in our mouths, it is in these times that we discover who we really are. For the true measure of a man is whether or not, lying in that mud, he can find the strength to pull himself up and jump again, however vainly, to try to reach another star.

Learn more about this author, Brianna Frentzko.
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