At some point in my early 20s I was watching a documentary on David Bowie. In answer to a question about technological advances in the industry he stated, with Bowie charm, ”It’s important to have something made of wood.” It’s a quote that stuck with me, though I don’t think I fully comprehended it at the time.

I grew up in a very orderly environment, the kind you could set your clock to. Everything was put away. Dinner was at five. The house was spotless. Most everything was smooth and white. There was little to no wood to be found.

I was a creative. I spent my time making, building, inventing, drawing, though making messes was not part of the deal. This last bit informed my creative life and would lead rather unironically to my becoming a graphic designer where highly detailed attention to pixels, registration marks, and strict adherence to “specs” would bring me strange satisfaction. For a while.

Back in college, a friend’s mom saw my fascination with her large collection of African art—so many carved wooden statues and masks. My eyes must’ve been popping out of my head because she looked at me and said, “Pick one.” It was such a touching and generous offering, and it became my first ever thing made of wood.

Around that same time another friend’s parent came to speak to a small group of us about resume writing, interviewing skills, and whatnot. The only thing I remember from that evening was his insinuation that being a perfectionist was a bad thing. I was perplexed! I knew perfectionism was the goal. I prided myself on my perfectionist approach. I dismissed his statement out of hand.

It’s been a long journey of unlearning the messages I internalized growing up. Of finding my way back to my messy creative child.

This object is one of the items I chose when I brought myself to Kenya on my first ever solo journey, in the before-times three summers ago. A journey that took great courage for me, self trust, and an investment I never thought I could make in myself.

I now have an ongoing collection of indigenous African art of my own. Each piece reminds me of who I am: a raw, messy human, struggling to survive. Green on the inside. Rough around the edges. Warm to the touch. Vulnerable to scars. Solid, strong, determined, resilient. A mess maker. A life designer. A fail betterer. And much better with age.

It’s important to have something made of wood. Life-affirming, imperfect, connected wood.