Many a battle has been lost because of this mind-set. Human relationships and careers have gone awry in the same way. In trying to reach a state of equilibrium where we can only blame fate, we actually take fate, luck—call it what you will—out of the picture entirely. In actual fact, Henry V nearly bankrupted England by leading it into a needless military expedition, all to win a glorious victory over a patch of ground he couldn't hope to hold for long. The only timeless glory that filters down to us from his sorry story is the magnificent way the brilliant Shakespeare depicted him. Yes, the speech to Henry's men “That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's Day” gives me goose-bumps, despite my knowledge of the circumstances. What a wonderful thing it would be, to have a crusade, to have a great calling, to have a big bad enemy to fight! How clear-cut; how simple. And how unlike the real world of modern life with all its messy, oozy frustrations and decisions.

Henry I Also Has His Day

Let's move the scene up five centuries to a modern man we'll call Henry (as long as we're on Henries). The numbering system starts all over again: to Henry himself, he's Henry the First and Only. Henry is capable, proud, articulate, well educated. He has his health. His judgment is excellent, even mature. He's got self-esteem to spare.

None of these qualities prevents Henry from sabotaging himself in his career. At a critical moment in his career, when his company needs him the most, Henry decides to take a long weekend in order to spend extra time with his children. All this despite the fact that he knows he's always made time for his kids. All this despite the fact that the kids, not having had warning of Henry's decision, have made other plans for that particular weekend.

Henry is spurred by a self-righteous desire to “do the right thing” that he is unable to control, even though he knows it's the wrong gesture for the wrong reason at the wrong time. He knows full well at every stage that he's creating a mess for himself, yet the pull of a single moment of “glory” is too much for him. At this stage in his life he simply cannot wait any longer; he must act.

The modern Henry's grand gesture may seem sudden, but it is not. The time bomb has been ticking in Henry's character his whole life. Somewhere in his younger days he got the idea in a daydream that it would be noble to sacrifice all for a worthy cause, to be a hero, risking all, even losing all, but gloriously. The daydream comforted him. It seemed easier than homework and the other vicissitudes of a young person's life. It seemed ideal: a way of achieving freedom from the stale flatness of the everyday world without actually “giving up.” Failing gloriously was not failure at all; it was a form of success and hence not wrong. You were rising to the challenge; forces beyond your control were moving you into a heroic setting where you had no choice but to do the right thing.

The moment for decisive action kept eluding Henry, however. Once, in college, when he was almost finished, Henry had been tempted to drop it all, telling himself that quitting so soon before graduation showed a certain personal panache, which he guessed could be formative and liberating. But he did finish, then one thing led to another, he began his career, got married, became a father.

The arrival of the children gave Henry new focus. His kids became icons for him, powerful symbols of new priorities. He would protect them with his life. Ironically, and unwittingly, they (or at least their image as icons in Henry's thinking) became the architects of his own self-sabotage. As the work stresses pile up Henry puts out fire after fire inside himself, without ever truly getting a handle on the root cause of his personal anxieties. Henry's battle is a private one. He confides in no one, and no one close to him has the slightest clue that he is about to make a heroic, and stupid, move. Henry is working toward a situation where he must damage himself in order to deal with the overwhelming stress of daily decision-making and never-ending responsibility.

Like many of us, Henry is infected with and seduced by a notion of heroic achievement, the idea that in one supreme instant, if he doesn't die trying, he will find the holy grail, kill the dragon, save all the men in the Alamo. His first mistake is blowing up the issue with his kids way out of proportion. A co-worker had a “quality-time-with-kids” problem perhaps, or maybe a magazine article he read at the dentist catapulted Henry into concentric bouts of worrying. The key fact is that Henry does not sit down with pen and paper to do a rational analysis of his time constraints and possibilities. He does not use the diplomatic means he could use in order to carve out the extra time. Instead he picks a fight with a superior and storms out of the building, his heart pounding with the wonderful feeling that he is “right.”

Exercise: Glory Thinking

• Keep a journal of some of your daydreams. Have you imagined yourself as being in unlikely heroic positions, such as a king leading an army into battle, or a business tycoon pulling off a huge deal? Balance some of these unrealistic thinking patterns for some hard thoughts on making good measurable progress in your day-to-day life. Write down your thoughts on this.

• Analyze your thinking in the present or past about good luck that happens to other people. Do you feel envy? Do you wish harm to those “luckier” than yourself (lottery winners, for example). Get in touch with how negative and angry you may feel when you feel envy. Find your own personal method to release the anger.

• Look over your life and try to pinpoint areas, large and small, where you might have failed but felt good about failing because it proved you fought a good fight or did the “right thing.” Have you been honest with yourself in these cases?