Change Is Fucking Messy (Thank God)

Change is fucking messy.

You’re effectively molding yourself, and re-molding yourself, the way a sculptor would a piece of clay.

And yet, nobody says to the sculptor: Shame on you, butter fingers, for not having it perfect the first spin.

Rather, there’s an expectation of process. Of trial, of error, of slow transformation; of forming, fashioning, shaping and smoothing.

Nevertheless, we—masochistically enough—don’t allow ourselves the same courtesy. We expect flawless perfection, right out of the box. We beat ourselves up for not getting it right the first time. We assume that we, as humans, are suppose to come pre-assembled, with all the right programming in place. And we get mad at the mess.

In other words, we think we’re iPhones, when really we’re art.

But even the iPhone requires updates.

And sometimes, even our biggest of screw ups, are actually sculptures in disguise.