Fall down, get up. Fail, learn, repeat.

Errors We Humans Do
We all make mistakes, right? To err is human, to forgive divine. Mistakes are just bound to happen because we are not perfect, try as we might. It is just how we are built.The only people who were perfect are saints, but they are no longer alive . The rest of us err and make mistakes. We do something we didn’t intend to do or, on the flip side, we don’t do something we intended to do.
I believe that we need to forgive ourselves. Any notion of God that I can imagine includes one in which God can and does forgive our mistakes. If we take any of the standard notions of God (that God has full control and power and we have free will), then how could God be mad when we make mistakes?
When I watch my children color or draw, I notice that they frequently miss their target and go outside of the lines or draw something unintended. Making a “mistake” is how we learn and grow. The problem is that we are all so hard on ourselves when we make mistakes.
We have to make mistakes in order to grow.
So here’s my question: Dare I live as though I’m allowed to make mistakes?
Think about the people who you like in your life. They’re not the ones who hold you to absolute perfection. And, aren’t they the ones you hold to absolute perfection? No, they’re the ones who you allow to err and those who allow you to err.
When you make a mistake, you ought to forgive yourself. Forgiving ourselves has to be the greatest gift that we can give ourselves, and the greatest gift we can give other people.
When we forgive ourselves, we lessen the baggage with which we walk around.
This week’s #wisdom_biscuit:
Forgive yourself.
We all make mistakes.
 

Flash Bang

✧✧✧ My buddy Marc meets me near my house at 3:30 on Saturday afternoon so we can bike to the small park named for Elizabeth Caruthers. I looked her up as I started to write this article. Elizabeth Caruthers was an early pioneer woman whose Supreme Court case led to the 1850 Donation Act—ruling that a woman, married or not,

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Hiawatha Johnson, JR.

January 2026 — Portland, ORE Hiawatha Johnson, Jr., a mentor and friend died. Summer 1985 — Magic Camp Oakdale, Long Island I’m 15. He’s 30. He wears a dashiki. He uses a walking stick. I’m prepubescent. I listen to comedy cassettes on a Walkman. I’m in awe. ✧✧✧ I perform a rather banal magic act that year — me narrating

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The Delay

2026 issue #03 — The Delay I’m in my buddy David’s car. He’s driving me from my mom’s apartment in NYC to Newark, NJ, where I’m going to catch a plane back home to Portland. David and I have been friends for fifty years. Amazing. My phone dings. I look at it. Nothing important. Just an alert from United. *

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