Earlier this year I spoke to some of the cast and the students touring with Cirque du Soleil’s Quidam at the Royal Albert Hall. Afterwards, I swapped stories with members of the troupe over dinner at Food for Thought.

I’ve often said that Cirque is one of four companies that I'd consider quitting my vocation to work for.

Well, Cory did just that. In the 1990s he saw Quidam as a spectator. The first act on stage was the German Wheel. At the end of the performance, Cory turned to his father and said, "I’m going to do that."

Cory left his job in special effects in Los Angeles, attended circus school, and applied to Cirque. He was offered the German Wheel on Quidam.

Cory made his Quidam debut 10 years after he first saw the show. The gymnast who had performed the German Wheel on that night was in the audience, cheering him on.

I asked Cory if his performance ever goes wrong on stage. He told me that on one occasion the wheel fell flat on the floor. No rocking or twitching, just splat. "I really respected that defeat," Cory told me.

Cory’s attitude has given me a whole new way of looking at failure. Instead of blaming ourselves, our tools, or other people, what would happen if we embraced defeat and treated it with the same reverence as success? If we know in our hearts that we gave everything of ourselves in the moment, then surely being beaten – by the elements, by an opponent, or in Cory’s case gravity – is nothing to be ashamed of. If the shortest cut to success is to fail quickly and often, would appreciating our losses help us to learn more from them?