I got this large stone to form the sculpture of my dreams.
With every movement, the chisel is making small groves permanently deforming the stone.
What is removed can not be added back.
A sense of direction is important here, else you risk ending up with a malformed sculpture.
Luckily I always had a vague sense what my finished sculpture should look like, an innate feeling guiding me.
Yet when faced with mundane of sculpting that same spot for years, my patience failed me.
Instead of carving where I ought, I let the chisel wander around aimlessly, forming rivers and small geometric shapes.
I found great joy in those local artworks, yet the value of those marks are quickly lost when viewing the larger unyielding stone remaining aimless.
I regain focus and continue to carve to form the vague shape in my mind.
The closer I get to my target shape, the easier it is to make mistakes.
I make an accidental cut in the middle of a finished section.
It is unsalvageable. I sit back. Feel the sadness wash over me. I mourn of what could have been.
...
Then I pick up the chisel and continue on.
Even if the carves are permanent, I can always decrease the size of the sculpture. The stone started off way to big for me anyway.
It is sad, but I will not get to make the large sculpture, most do not.
Time and time again I will make incorrect cuts, but with every grove, my command of the chisel grows stronger.
The required skill to sculpt decreases whenever the stone gets smaller.
I get to take more time now with each grove.
Someday there will be a balance, where the stone is small enough and my skill level high enough to have a sculpture that asymptoticly reaches the state of finished with every grove.
At which time, my days will be spent polishing and smoothing out the last remaining small imperfections.

It might not be the largest or the most pretty sculpture, but it will be something to be proud of, as long as I keep sculpting.

I am sculpting.