There was one day when I was cleaning stuff out from my room. I was getting rid of stuff from elementary school. Think: journals, drawings, broken crayons, crafts, trinkets, and other miscellaneous irrelevant objects.
I chucked away everything I no longer had a need for.
To my surprise, I found several of those things back in my room on my desk later that day.
My grandma saw what I was up to, didn’t like it, and picked out the stuff she still saw value in.
She was my resistance.
All the spring cleaning progress I wanted to put in, she was the one pushing back against it.
What I later realized was that we saw value in different things. What I thought was useless, she thought was meaningful. What I saw was junk, she saw emotional belonging.
And it’s the same when it comes to creative work.
What we might think is not good enough to us, might be mean the world to someone else. But of course, it’s impossible to be the one who decides that.