The Only Way to Grow: Why Your Dreams Need a Graveyard of Failures

If you’ve ever stopped by our booth at a local Omaha farmers market, you’re seeing the finished product. You see the beard products, the magnesium, the tallow line, and the results of a lot of hard work. What you don’t see—and what we don't talk about enough—is the graveyard of dead seedlings, failed products and the absolute disasters that happened at 9:00 PM on a Tuesday or the ruined batches of salve, that didn't set right, for whatever reason, even though everything was done exactly the same as the many times before.

At Urban Abundance, we don’t just "tolerate" failure. We rely on it.

There’s this shiny version of urban farming where everything is aesthetic and effortless and not "really" farming. But when you’re balancing a "regular" job with the unpredictable nature of soil and Nebraska weather unpredictability, you realize pretty quickly that success isn't about being perfect—it’s about outlasting your own mistakes.

Most people quit when they realize that business is mostly just solving one disaster after another. They try one season, lose their tomatoes to a June hailstorm, and decide they aren’t "natural" gardeners.

We have learned so much and have so much more to learn, and we don't have "green thumbs." We are here because we were willing to be the people who planted the same crop four times until we figured out why it kept dying.

In our "day jobs," we’re used to structure and protocols. But the dirt doesn't care about your resume. When a crop fails or a market day is a total wash, it’s not a sign to pack it in—it’s data.

• A dead crop isn't a waste of time; it’s a lesson on Omaha soil health/drainage/user error.

• A quiet market day isn't a rejection; it’s a lesson on how to better connect with our neighbors and attendees.

• A mistake while making product isn't a catastrophe; it’s the reason our next one will be better.

If we aren't failing, I feel we aren't pushing the boundaries of what we can actually do.

The only real difference between a successful business and one that folds after a single season is the willingness to look like you have no idea what you’re doing. We’ve been there—hauling gear through the mud in a downpour, miscalculating the first Nebraska frost and hitting levels of exhaustion that make you question your sanity. But every time we "failed," we walked away with a lesson we couldn't have bought. It’s been a net positive every single time because those mistakes are exactly what built the foundation we’re standing on now. Don't mistake that as, these are easy times, because they aren't, they are just lessons, sometimes very expensive ones.

So, if you’re working that 9-to-5 and have a dream of something more for yourself or you are trying to build something on the side—whether it’s a farm, a craft, a business or freedom/self reliance—don't be afraid of the "no's", the dead plants, the failures or the perfect time (that doesn't exist)!

You can't harvest, what you don't plant.