Written By: Brad Pedersen

It was Mark Twain who once said, “To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence.” I had plenty of both when I started my first venture. That’s how I ended up launching a toy company in a region of the world where it made little sense to do so. 

It’s also why I decided to bring friends and family into the business, despite numerous warnings about the potential pitfalls. I had been cautioned repeatedly about mixing close relationships with business. “Keep them separate, or risk them”  the advice went. But I was confident, outgoing, and had a track record of growing. My ego had convinced me that my situation would be different. I believed that as long as we could continue to grow everything would be okay.

And for a while, it was—until it wasn’t. 

I had sugar-coated the reality of building a startup—painting it with the glossy, feel-good brush of a Disney movie. What I didn’t fully grasp was that business is a volatile mix of money and risk—two deeply emotional forces. When you add personal relationships into that already unstable blend, you’re playing with dynamite.  

It wasn’t until the company hit turbulent times and tough decisions had to be made that the true resilience of some of my closest relationships was put to the test. The outcome? Some were strained—others damaged and for a few they were beyond repair and lost entirely.

The Paradox of Unteachable Lessons

There’s a peculiar kind of advice that we resist learning the easy way—lessons that, for reasons often rooted in pride or naiveté, we demand to learn the hard way. I call them the required price of knowing: truths we stubbornly insist on discovering through direct experience, no matter how painful or expensive the tuition.  

Just like the image above of me lifting a heavy weight, there are some experiences in life whose gravity you can’t fully grasp until you feel them yourself. Some lessons don’t land until they’re lived—until the weight of the moment presses down and reveals its true impact. 

The irony is, a smoother path is almost always available. We’ve been warned—by wise mentors, timeless literature, cautionary tales from history, and the wreckage of public failures. Yet we brush it all aside with quiet arrogance, whispering to ourselves, That may have been true for them, but I’m different. 

With a quiet arrogance, we convince ourselves we’re the exception—that our intellect, resilience, or situation somehow exempts us from the consequences that have humbled so many before us.

The Cost of Firsthand Learning

What makes this pattern even more maddening is that the required price of knowing is rarely paid over trivial things. These aren’t lessons about what to wear or where to vacation—they’re the high-stakes truths that define the quality and direction of our lives.

From ancient philosophers to modern thought leaders, we’ve been handed countless firsthand warnings—etched in books, speeches, and biographies—about the same enduring realities:

• More money won’t bring lasting satisfaction.
   
• Fame won’t heal your self-worth.
   
• Overworking leads to deep regret.
   
• Anxiety rarely enhances performance.
   
• True joy is found in relationships, not results.

And yet, despite this chorus of wisdom echoing across centuries, we keep charging forward. 

Some of us comfort ourselves with the belief that we already “get it.” But most of us simply tune out the warnings, drifting through life on autopilot. We let the momentum of daily demands push us forward, clinging to the illusion that we’re somehow different—that the laws of life, which apply to everyone else, won’t apply to us.

Knowledge vs. Wisdom: The Two Paths to Learning

We learn in one of two ways: through knowledge—gained from our own mistakes—and through wisdom—gained by learning from others’.  Wisdom is always the least costly way to learn. As Jim Rohn stated, “Experience is not the best teacher; other people’s experience is the best teacher.” 

It is to that end, I’ve personally invested countless hours reading, listening, and learning from those ahead of me. Still, some lessons have refused to sink in until I personally lived them.

That’s the paradox: wisdom is only useful to the extent that we’re aware enough to receive it. Where awareness is lacking, experience becomes the teacher—and often, a costly one at that. 

That’s the required price of knowing; and through experience many of us have come to realize that some payments are hefty.

The Recognition Moment

There’s a distinct moment of clarity that follows learning a hard lesson—the kind that comes either in quiet reflection, as you begin to extract the wisdom from your wounds, or in a shared glance with someone you know who has already paid the price.  In that moment, a voice within whispers the truth you once ignored—now etched into your memory as a lived experience.

Painful as they are, these moments mark real growth. They’re the crossroads where head knowledge becomes heart truth—where the required price of knowing is paid, and wisdom is now finally fully absorbed.

The Path Forward: Aligning Ambition 

So where does this leave us? If some truths can only be learned through experience, are we bound to repeat past avoidable mistakes?

Not entirely. While certain lessons may need to be lived to be understood, intentional reflection can grow our awareness—and with it, the humility to question our assumptions and the honesty to know our soft spots and unhealthy motivations. It also calls for vigilance against the belief that we’re the exception. Before moving forward, we must learn to pause, consider the consequences, and listen closely when wisdom whispers caution.

Above all, we should work to avoid the toughest lessons—the ones that surface too late, when we realize we sacrificed what mattered most in pursuit of what satisfies the least.  For founders and leaders, this distinction is especially important.  It’s not ambition that undoes us, but ambition untethered from purpose. The wisdom across the ages, warns us that when drive is left without direction, we do not find fulfillment but rather deep regret.

I’ve had to learn some of these hard lessons firsthand. Inviting friends and family to join my venture—believing that shared vision and trust would carry us through turned out to be an error in judgement. As a result, those relationships bore the cost. 

Some have since mended; others still carry a silent ache of disappointment. While I carry some regrets for how it played out, it has shaped who I am today and how I now approach personal relationships in business. 

More importantly, the experience taught me to slow down and pay closer attention to the quieter, ancient understanding that often gets drowned out in the hustle and noise of ambition. I’ve learned that not all truths need to come through the pain of knowing—if I have the humility to listen, wisdom can spare me life’s toughest lessons.

A Gentle Invitation

If you’ve had to learn some lessons the hard way, welcome to the party; you’re not alone.

And if you’re still in the middle of the storm, I want to gently offer this encouragement: slow down. Listen. Reflect and ask yourself:

• Where am I pursuing more without knowing why?
   
• What warning signs am I ignoring?
   
• What values am I compromising as the result of my ambition?

Your ambition is a gift. Just make sure it’s pointed in the right direction.

Because the real win? It’s living a life you don’t want to escape from.  A life you’re proud of—not just impressive on paper, but one that fosters fulfillment in your heart and a deep, satisfaction in your soul.

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