Tiny victories. Big feelings.

Celebrating the Weird, Wobbly Miracle of Showing Up

It’s a wall of ribbons.

From the gallery entrance, you can see it. It’s a bright yellow wall with colorful award ribbons. At first glance, it kind of looks like a celebratory finish line or maybe a prize booth at a county fair. It calls to you: CLAIM YOUR VICTORY!

When you get closer, though, the truth becomes clear. These ribbons aren’t for winning. (At least, not in the traditional sense.)

They’re for quiet triumphs. The unseen efforts. The deeply personal, weirdly emotional, beautiful, ordinary things we too often dismiss.

Kristi (my wife, collaborator, and benevolent ruler of the encouraging ribbon kingdom) made each one by hand. Yes, hand-stitched. Months of work. Hours of intricate effort. She was still working on the last of them during our long drive to the gallery in Michigan. (While also attempting to DJ. No small task.)

She intentionally picked that “first place blue” so that the whole wall felt official. Like a dignified display of excellence. It needed to look like something sanctioned by a very prestigious panel of emotional Olympians.

But up close? The truth gently unravels: these aren’t awards for being the best. They’re ribbons for being. For trying. For not giving up, even when everything in you want to nap.

Not best-in-show. Just … showed up.

And sometimes, that’s the whole miracle.

It’s a wall of tiny victories. And tiny victories, as it turns out, are still victories. Maybe even the most important kind.

We live in a world that celebrates big wins. Gold medals! Book deals! Flawless morning routines! Productivity! Perfect glowing skin that defies all logic!

But most days? The wins are quiet. Weird. Slightly damp.

And those wins matter.

Psychologists Teresa Amabile and Steven Kramer call this the Progress Principle. Their research analyzed the work of 238 employees across seven companies. They discovered something surprisingly powerful: when we recognize small moments of progress, we become more motivated, more resilient, and more likely to keep going.

In other words: tiny victories aren’t tiny.

They can be rocket fuel for the soul.

Fun fact: embroidery is surprisingly dangerous, so technically, this project also involved blood. Art!

Celebrating tiny victories isn’t just nice. It’s necessary. It tells your brain: “Hey, we’re doing something here. We’re moving. Let’s keep going.” Even if the thing you did was just make it through a Tuesday.

And the beauty of Kristi’s ribbon wall is that it works from both far and near. From across the room, it does look like a sweep of high honors. But lean in, and it’s clear these are reminders of simply being gloriously human. They’re simple, honest, funny, and intimate. Each is a moment of quiet resistance against a world that often focuses on and celebrates loud success.

So here’s your ribbon.

Yes, you.

You who cried a little but kept going.
You who responded to the group chat without overthinking it.
You who made it through the meeting, remembered your password, or simply helped someone else get up.

Thanks for showing up. You did it.
And that’s enough for a ribbon.

P.S.
If you had a ribbon for today, what would it say?

1. Come experience it in person:
   Join us this Saturday at the Curiosity in Action event at the Saugatuck Center for the Arts. You’ll get to see the ribbon wall (and the rest of the We Hope You Fail Better exhibit), participate in creative workshops, hear conversations, and I’ll be giving a special talk, too. Get event details here.

2. Have you called in to Dial-a-Dream?
   This audio experience created for the exhibit just keeps getting better every day. Call in and leave an encouraging voicemail. Read about it here.

3. Want your own reminder?
   The Tiny Victories Are Still Victories print is available in our shop. Grab yours here.

Director of Education and Exhibits Whitney Valentine reads our book “Fail-a-Bration” with a group of students visiting the gallery.