THE PEDESTAL PARABLE
Putting Dreams on Pedestals and Idolizing the Impossible
When people "put things on pedestals," they elevate something or someone to a higher status, often idolizing them. It's like placing a statue or a figure on a pedestal so that everyone can admire it from a distance. In this sense, it represents treating someone or something as perfect or untouchable—giving them an exaggerated sense of importance, often without acknowledging the flaws and/or the real work.
The Dreamer & The Doer
The Dreamer was a person who wanted to be known, more than anything else in the world. Badly. They didn’t just want to indulge in the act of creating for the sake of being creative—they wanted applause. Recognition. Dap with the "cool kids".
Obsessed with timing, tools, and trends—they put things on pedestals
always convinced the next big idea would finally prove their worth.
But deep down, they were scared.
Scared that putting their work out too soon might shatter the illusion of their own genius. Scared they wouldn’t look cool enough, clever enough, worthy enough.
So they kept it all locked up. Big dreams, zero moves. Safety.
Meanwhile, their friend—The Doer—who was constantly creating, sharing, learning—told them:
“Stop putting people on pedestals. Just make shit. That’s the whole point— feel it, express it, build it. Come as you are. Refine it later. Just start.”
But The Dreamer didn’t move.
Every conversation drifted into hype: a new platform, some big idea someone else had done. They loved talking about creativity more than they loved creating anything.
No risk. No mess. No progress. Just safe little circles on the sidelines—chasing their own tail, high on the scent of their own brilliant feces.
Eventually, The Doer stopped showing up to The Dreamer. They were done trying to breathe life into a dreaming statue. Stopped trying to convince someone that moving messily was better than posing perfectly still.
The Doer kept walking. Alone if they had to.
They kept their head down and their hands moving—scratching the itch to make something. Anything. Not for attention, but because the process mattered:
- They pushed through doubt, failure, silence.
- They showed up when things flopped.
- They showed up when no one cared.
- They showed up when the next idea felt dumb.
- They just kept showing up.
And in time—people noticed.
Not because it was perfect.
But because it was real.
The Doer had built a body of unfiltered work that carried weight and character—each piece a scar, a scratch, a signal. Some polished, some not so polished... but all present. Not curated, but real. A catalog of motion, grit, and growth. Things made not for clout, but because they had to be made. Like a sickness.
Each piece a moment, a phase, a fragment of a larger story unfolding—messy, raw, alive. Some of it hit. Some of it missed. But it was all theirs.
They didn’t wait for the green light. They didn’t wait to be told it was good enough.
They just kept showing up, letting the work speak louder than the plan.
And over time, that rhythm became its own gravity.
Not perfect, but undeniable.
Eventually, that work reached the very gates the dreamer wanted to break into.
Not by chasing fame.
But by chasing truth.
And the dreamer?
Still waiting. Still prepping. Still watching. Still waiting for permission.
Dreaming of the perfect day to begin.
THE MISLED.MORAL OF THE STORY:
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Perfect is a lie.
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Share your work.
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Never put ANYTHING on a pedestal.
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The right time is never—go now.
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Tomorrow might not show up.
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Be inspired by others, but don’t compare yourself to them to seek validation.
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You don’t need ANYONE'S PERMISSION—just move!
Now go hav fuNn~
I'm just gonna leave this here (Aesop Rock — No Regrets):