Half asleep, I heard a fly buzzing against the window glass, thumping into it again and again, trying to find a way out. It kept at it, failing and trying again across the wide pane, droning the whole time. Lying in bed, I turned my head to look, wanting to give it a hand — let it fly free, and let my ears have some peace. But the windows on either side were open. It kept exploring the glass that wasn’t open, never once flying toward the two open windows.
Maybe it does have a sense of direction — I watched it run a random, exhaustive grid search for a “gap,” changing course whenever it bumped into the metal frame. Yet it stayed busy inside that single pane, unwilling to back up a little first and try the pane next door. If only it would step back when it hit the wall and then keep moving sideways a bit, it would already be outside.
A lot of the time, it’s the same for us in startups. Failing and trying again, eyes locked on the light ahead — we’ll take the walls to the face on the way there, we’ll spend endless time exploring, we’ll endure the hardship, but we won’t step back and look for a new direction. Little do we realize: one step back and the sea and sky open wide. Let go of the tunnel vision, let go of the stubbornness, take one step back, and the whole situation looks different. Then pick up your original approach again, and you’ll reach the same destination just fine.