Mistakes happen, but are seldom the end

A re-post of "Making of a mistake"

Today, I share a formerly paid subscribers-only story (poem?) on mistakes. ~JRC

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Making of a mistake

Grief and recovery in errors

First published June 27th, 2022

One rushed moment. A slip. When execution exceeds our skill. That dreaded instant when ideas and hands disagree - or do not cooperate? What was imagined is now damaged.

We have made a mistake.

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It's a painful moment. Often sweat and time - perhaps tears - invested. Painstakenly we've belabored, only to send it all crashing down. Damaged by the creator's hands.

At first - shock. Disbelief. Cries of disgust erupt. Anger?

No! We protest. This did not just happen. But it did. And the glaring error stares back at us.

A tangible reminder of our imperfections.

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Rage gives way. Now sadness. We grieve our errors; an object of affection is no more. And indeed, love seems lost.

That thing we birthed has succumbed. At our hands.

We fear.

Defeat looms large as focus narrows.

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But plans emerge. A repair. Swift attempts to make things right. Recovery races through the mind. Salvageable. A do-over? Is there a way forward?

Attempts at reconciliation.

Some sanding. A bit of glue. Or paint. Remake that piece or change the overall design. Yes. And no. But something. It is not the end.

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Resilience.

We have what it takes. Affections reemerge. Passion flows as our hands and mind resume their rightful affiliation. In harmony, we rebuild. Make things right. Make things better.

We can. Do this.

Somehow better. Stronger than before. With humility and hubris - melding into respect. For the piece. And the whole.

Imperceptibly we know the mistake was inevitable. But not regrettable.

Love not lost - but strengthened.

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JRC