While we were working on this issue, there was an incredible scene on Mike Judge’s Silicon Valley that spoofed the current day cult of failure. In describing the ongoing tribulations of his technology company, CEO Gavin Belson proclaimed: “What those in dying business sectors call failure, we in tech know to be pre-greatness.” He uttered these words in front of a screen that spelled out his point in no uncertain terms: “Failure equals success.” Those listening nodded intently as if Belson were a Zen master.
The idea of failure has been in flux throughout human history. Whether linked to sin (Judeo-Christianity), ignorance (the Enlightenment), or abnormality (modernity), societies have continually propped up distinct notions of failure to bolster corresponding notions of success. But something strange has happened in recent years: Instead of propping up success, failure now seems to be competing with it. Throughout our culture, we find failure being celebrated as if it were a virtue. According to Oprah, it is a “stepping stone to greatness.” J.K. Rowling claims that it comes with “fringe benefits.” And all over the business world, it is positioned as the unmistakable key to unlocking human excellence. “It’s fine to celebrate success,” remarked Bill Gates. “But it is more important to heed the lessons of failure.”
This issue of GOOD aims to dig at the roots of the curious cause célèbre—failure. To this end, we invited a group of creative change-maker types to dinner to discuss how the failure/success binary can prove confounding in the civic space (“The GOOD Dinnertime Conversation”).
In new fiction from Lara Vapnyar, we see that the same binary that undermines organizations can also undermine individuals, as witnessed by a relationship crushed by unrealistic notions of success (“Buddha’s Hand”).
Is the entire failure and success conversation the product of an exaggerated sense of individual power? So suggests Amanda Fortini, who captures a form of rural life so jarring that it recalibrates a sense of self in need of balance (“The Great Surrender”).
Vervey, Switzerland-based “idea factory” Riverboom takes a look at the other side of that coin, prodding us to wonder whether a landscape so lush and bountiful as that of the Tour of Italy (Giro d’Italia) inflates our sense of individual power to unhealthy degrees (“Eyes on the Prize”).
Finally, we present Winston Struye’s incredible photo project with the Nepali youth of the ROKPA Children’s Home in Kathmandu, which captures stories of resilience that otherwise eluded the international media (“Our City is Devastated. We Are Not.”). Despite the devastation of the quake, the photos point to a psycho-spiritual success from which we can all draw strength.
It strikes me as mildly significant that the cultural conversation about the power of failure generally ballooned around the time of the U.S. invasion of Iraq, the reign of George W. Bush, the bursting of the housing bubble—banks that were “too big to fail”—and the global financial crisis. What if we have embraced failure, in part, as a coping mechanism for these high profile breakdowns? In this issue we ask whether the cultural pendulum has swung too far from success to failure and whether, in the parlance of global markets, we are now in need of a correction. If that’s the case, perhaps this can be a start.
Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.