One of the strangest things we do as humans…
is expect our past self to know things only time could teach.
We find an old painting. An old song. An old video. An old journal.
And we cringe.
“How did I ever think this was good?”
But I think the better question is…
“Who’s asking it?”
Because the work didn’t wake up one day and become less.
We woke up seeing more.
The painting stayed the same.
The person looking at it didn’t.
We are using today’s eyes to judge yesterday’s hands.
And that idea makes it so hard for me look at my old work the same.
Yesterday’s hands could only make what yesterday’s eyes could see.
How could they have done anything else?
We can’t paint what we can’t imagine yet.
We can’t write what we don’t know yet.
We can’t build with tools we haven’t found yet.
We keep asking our younger self to borrow wisdom from the future.
That’s impossible.
Wisdom is the only teacher that gives the lesson after the test.
You don’t get a map.
Until you’ve already walked the trail.
And that’s why your old work matters.
Every painting gives you a beautiful new pair of eyes.
Then those new eyes turn around…
And judge the painting that made them.
Isn’t that strange?
Without that painting we would’ve never learned to see what was missing.
Without that story we would’ve never learned what a better story feels like.
Without that first song we would never hear the melodies we hear now.
Your old work didn’t just make art.
It made you.
Every time we create something…
…two things are made.
The work.
And the person who made it.
Most creators only acknowledge the first one.
But honestly…the second one is where the magic happens.
We think we’re making paintings.
We’re really making painters.
We think we’re making books.
We’re really making writers.
We think we’re making music.
We’re really making musicians.
The work changes you long before it changes anyone else.
Yet the hardest person for us to understand is often the person we used to be.
We look back at old work. Old choices. Old dreams. Old relationships.
Old versions of ourself.
And wonder: “What was I thinking?”
But that version of us wasn’t a “fool”.
It’s hard for me to even use the word “amateur”.
I’d rather just say we were “early”.
Because there’s a difference.
A seed isn’t a failed tree.
A caterpillar isn’t a failed butterfly.
A sunrise isn’t a failed sunset.
It’s just the beginning.
Why are we so ashamed of “becoming”?
A tree never hides its rings.
A butterfly never apologizes for being a caterpillar.
A sunset wears the colors of every hour it took to become.
Nature leaves proof that it changed.
We try to erase ours.
We delete old posts. Hide old drawings. Throw away old notebooks.
Don’t erase the bridge.
It carried you here.
One day the work you’re making today will embarrass you too.
And when that day comes…I hope you smile.
Because it means you kept going. You kept gaining. You kept growing.
You build the work.
The work builds you.
Don’t hate yesterday’s hands.
They’re the reason you have today’s eyes.
Stay creative,
Way Walker