Sometimes the eraser is part of making your mark.
The journal is with me at all times. It’s not a place where I keep to-do lists, but where I put daydreams and sketch messages. It’s where I work out ideas.
Some become reality. Some wait for their turn. Others were simply gestures that moved something else forward.
But today I noticed something about my pencil. The eraser is almost gone. Why’s that?
I thumbed back through the journal for signs.
Nothing had been removed per se. The eraser use was merely part of capturing the vision.
In the moment, the wrong mark might have felt like a mistake to be removed. So I did. But it wasn’t a mistake. It was a mark waiting to be refined.
So, now what? No more eraser, plenty more lead.
Guess the mistakes will stay right there on the page. That’s okay. I’ll call it texture.
It’ll be a reminder that nothing is now what it was in its beginning, and that what you see now is not the end.