My old friend Stuart drops wisdom bombs while turning coffee spills into creative exercises, works of art, and creative block-busting devices.
Take this one for instance:
Do the terrible things you know won't work first.
Just get them out of your system.
This is actually how I want to look at a lot of things in life. How I want to garden - how I build structures on our land - how I try to develop permaculture systems, community, and other worthwhile endeavors.
Paralyzed by a blank piece of paper? Maybe spill some coffee on it and see what emerges.
Staring at your lawn too long? Can't figure out what goes where? Just go to town, sling some sod, shove some cuttings into the ground. See what takes.
When we relocated to my family farm 4 years ago and began putting our first garden plot in, we thought hey, we have this old Alice Chalmers tractor and a 3-bottom plough - let's just turn the grass under, just this once, and we'll be off to the races. So I ran the plough through the plot a few times, then my ignorance got the best of me - the tractor broke down and had to be yanked out by a bigger tractor. And we were stuck with these massive ruts in the ground where we wanted to have a nice garden. Without much choice really, we moved forward making the best of it. A few ruts turned into wood-filled trenches, which we then covered with dirt - our first handful of hugelkulturs. A few ruts become mulch-filled paths between rows of perennial herbs. A particularly swoopy and deep rut became a bit of a de-facto water catchment, which became a water feature, which became a lazy-river/leaky pond for the kiddos to play in while the Mrs. and I worked to establish the plot that first hot summer.

Was it perfect? No - still isn't - not by a long shot, Was it great? Absolutely. It had a stunning, whimsical and improvisational charm. A flow we still prefer to the linear rows of some of our surrounding plots. And it is still developing and unfolding as we live and work in it - the main productive epicenter of our growing medicinal herb patch.
As an audio engineer and record producer, I would often find myself sitting with a work tape for a song that I knew could be great, if I could just unlock its potential. The work tape would probably be just guitar and vocal, or piano and vocal, often just a rough, noisy, cluttery idea of a song. To get started, I would invariably have to just start making some noise, interacting with the piece, moving stuff around. Grab a ukulele or a kazoo. Turn on some weird effect. Almost always, like 99% of the time, these initial noises wouldn't make the final track - but they were steps to get where I was going.
In fact, when new recording artists or songwriters would come into my studio and I would ask them what kind of project they had in mind, they would almost always articulate some grand vision, a magnum opus work of perfection. Then they'd ask for my advice.
I'd tell them to go make a dozen crappy EPs. Just the first 6 songs to come out of the hatch when they open their mouths. It's all chaff, anyway. Make it and put it out there. Give it away and - this is important - ignore all the people sitting on their hands critiquing you while doing nothing, producing nothing. It is easy to sit around being an unproductive expert. What is hard is sitting down and doing the hard work of producing.
Wrap your head around this and watch your garden, your sketchbook, your music grow exponentially.