October 14

I am not sure where we got the idea that in order to be “real” artists we had to do things perfectly. The minute we see the word “perfect” (and I think critics are the ones who drag it in the door), spontaneity goes out the window. We get so sure that we can’t be a great composer that we never let ourselves write our kids a goofy lullaby or play improvisational noodles at the piano. We’re so respectful of “great” art that we always, chronically, sell ourselves short. Here’s what I like about God: Trees are crooked, mountains are lumpy, a lot of his creatures are funny-looking, and he made it all anyway. He didn’t let the aardvark convince him he had no business designing creatures. He didn’t make a puffer fish and get discouraged. No, the maker made things—and still does.