People imagine that Netflix sprang fully formed into a global

Hear, O seekers of vision and builders of tomorrow, the words of Marc Randolph, who confessed with candor: “People imagine that Netflix sprang fully formed into a global streaming giant, but Netflix might have been personalised sporting goods – or customised shampoo – or even pet food, since these were all ideas that I pitched Reed Hastings in those first months.” Though spoken lightly, these words contain a truth of great depth: that greatness is seldom born in a single, perfect stroke, but out of trial, error, and the willingness to wander many paths before the right one is found.

The world, seeing the towering tree of Netflix, imagines it sprouted whole from the earth, but Randolph reveals the truth: in its earliest days, the seed could have been many things—sporting goods, shampoo, pet food. These were not foolish notions, but attempts, experiments, sparks cast into the wind. From such casting comes invention. This is the origin of much that endures: not certainty, but exploration, not prophecy, but persistence.

To dream is easy, but to build requires the courage to fail again and again. The giant we see today was not inevitable; it was born of men who pitched ideas, discarded some, refined others, and finally discovered the form that resonated with the needs of the age. So it has always been. The world remembers the triumph, but forgets the countless abandoned beginnings that made it possible. Randolph’s words draw back the veil, reminding us that even legends are made of many false starts.

Consider, O listener, the tale of Thomas Edison, who, in his quest to create the light bulb, tested over a thousand filaments. When mocked for his failures, he replied: “I have not failed. I’ve just found a thousand ways that won’t work.” The glowing bulb, like the streaming giant, seemed inevitable once it existed, but it was born of persistence, of trying and discarding until the truth revealed itself. Just so, Randolph and Hastings cast aside shampoo and pet food, until they discovered the golden path of video-by-mail, which would one day evolve into streaming.

The meaning of these words is profound: what looks inevitable in hindsight was once uncertain, fragile, even laughable. The mighty oak was once a doubtful acorn. The victorious general once questioned every strategy. The great company, the shining idea, may once have looked no different from dozens of others abandoned along the way. This is the way of creation: clarity comes only through movement, through testing, through daring.

The lesson, O child of tomorrow, is this: do not despise your false starts, your discarded projects, your abandoned ideas. They are not wasted—they are the soil from which the enduring vision will grow. Do not be ashamed of wandering, for in wandering you are searching, and in searching you will discover. Let not the success of others deceive you into thinking their paths were straight. Even the greatest builders first walked through forests of doubt and fields of failure.

Practical action follows: when you dream, pursue your idea boldly, even if it seems small, even if it fails. Write it down, test it, bring it into the world. If it falters, let it teach you. If it fails, let it refine you. For each attempt brings you closer to the idea that will endure. And when it comes, you will know it not by its perfection, but by the way it meets the moment. This is how empires are built—brick by brick, pitch by pitch, attempt by attempt.

Therefore, remember Randolph’s wisdom: Netflix could have been shampoo; the light bulb could have been just another failed filament. What matters is not that the first idea is perfect, but that the dreamer persists until the right one takes root. Walk boldly into your own uncertain beginnings, and trust that from them may rise something far greater than you can yet imagine.