The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from ...

The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?

For the budding musician, Guitar Center is a lush jungle: Rickenbackers hang from the walls like ripe mangoes ready for the picking while the rattle of hi-hats is the hiss of a dangerous, yet enticing serpent--that serpent being assistant manager Josh on his thirty-minute break. As an amateur guitarist, I hopped into this jungle for the first time at the age of fourteen an unassuming tree frog: with my brown and white spots attributable to my Greek father and Malawian mother, my padded fingers prevented from playing anything more complicated than a D minor, and my four eyes (an adaptive trait I evolved to have over years of watching television too close to the screen), I was nothing like the apex predators that dominated Guitar Center. My eyes darted from the boy playing “Stairway to Heaven” on a Martin with the grace of a hummingbird to the woman at a piano evoking the tranquil songs of humming cicadas. I began to think I would never find my niche in this already-thriving ecosystem. I hobbled over to the electric guitars to try my hand at playing something; it would be my first time with a non-acoustic. I plucked a signature Jimi Hendrix Woodstock Stratocaster from its vine and basked in its glory. Holding the instrument, I felt as though my oddly-proportioned fingers fit perfectly between the frets; the strings easily gave into my gentle pushes. I plugged the guitar into the best amplifier I could find, trying not to invade the territories of any lurking jaguars. The electronic hum of the amp abruptly began, and I sat down. I was hesitant to start playing the song I had learned for my trip to Guitar Center, “Wish You Were Here”, as I feared attracting the attention of tamarins hanging from lofty branches, their beady eyes judging every erroneous note I played; perhaps the entire jungle would discover my only developing proficiency and erupt into a cacophony of howling. I took the risk, though, and formed the first chord. I played, thanks to my prior practice, well. The pads on my fingers only enhanced the expression of the notes; the maple fretboard’s warm tone made the song sound even closer to how Pink Floyd played it. I stopped playing to survey the jungle for any pumas ready to pounce--admittedly, my rendition hadn’t been perfect, and I was almost sure I could feel carnivorous glares on me, ready to pick apart all the imperfections of my craft. However, to my relief, I saw nothing. The boy from earlier continued to play (having moved on from Led Zeppelin to The Beatles), the woman at the piano now browsed keyboard stands, and assistant manager Josh, to his apparent disappointment, no longer drummed and rather attended to customers at the front desk. Despite having put myself out into the open as a defenseless frog, I received no judgement from others; I was allowed to coexist in--even contribute to--the jungle’s ambiance (a mix of jazz, rock, electronica, and senseless banging of drums by random passersthrough). That day at Guitar Center, I found my niche. Amongst a jungle full of different species, I learned that my self-doubt was just that: self-doubt. I wasn’t really at the bottom of the food chain; in fact, I wasn’t prey at all. I was another person, learning and growing alongside those more skilled than me and those less. The risk I took that day playing electric guitar for the first time in front of so many people allowed me to forget about what I thought would get me laughed at and become more comfortable with diving head-first, like a frog, into a pool of new things. At Guitar Center originated my passion to step out of my comfort zone; there I learned that I could thrive anywhere if I took that first daunting step--or leap.