I lost my eraser the other day. On no planet is the loss of an eraser anything worth getting upset about. Still. I was a little agitated. I don’t mind making mistakes – in fact, sometimes, I court them – but I think that’s because I really like the idea of fixing them. My least favorite paintings and written pieces are the ones when I’ve started with restraint.
Of course, if I was a jeweler or a Swiss watch maker or a proof reader of title abstracts – anything that expects you to take care with fiddly details – I’d do just that. I’d take care with the fiddly details. But creative stuff is something else.
Life, too. Being reluctant to make mistakes, dancing around people so you don’t say or do the wrong thing, is suffocating. Someone should invent an eraser for life so we’d go into it with more fearlessly.