Sometimes I'll have sections that I'm not quite sure how they

Hear, O seeker of creation, the words of Gotye, who confessed: “Sometimes I’ll have sections that I’m not quite sure how they fit in the puzzle of a tune, they’ll get moved around; what I think was originally a verse ends up becoming the chorus, or what’s an intro gets dropped as a hook, things get shifted around a lot.” Though he speaks of music, his words are a reflection of the larger art of life itself. For life, like song, is seldom written in perfect order from the beginning; it is crafted through trial, error, rearrangement, and the courage to see new meaning in what was once misunderstood.

The first wisdom in this saying is the image of the puzzle. Each note, each phrase, each section is a piece waiting for its rightful place. At first, the artist may think he knows its purpose—this is the verse, that is the chorus—but in time, the pieces reveal their true shape. What seems misplaced may be the very key to the whole. Thus, creation is not rigid, but fluid, requiring humility to adapt, to rearrange, to trust that the song itself will teach the composer where it longs to go.

So it is with life. Often we believe we know the role of an event, a struggle, or a relationship. We call it an intro, a mere beginning, or dismiss it as something that must be cast aside. Yet later we discover it was the hook—the very heart of the story. What we thought was a minor detail becomes the chorus of our lives, repeated again and again with power. And what we thought was central may fade, having served only to prepare the way for something greater.

History gives us a shining example in the journey of J. K. Rowling. Once a struggling mother, scribbling notes in cafés, she did not know how her scattered fragments of story would fit together. Many drafts changed, many scenes were moved, many characters transformed. What began as fragments of imagination became the chorus of a generation’s childhood. The verses and hooks of her tale were not fixed from the start, but discovered through the shifting, reshaping, and listening to the puzzle as it revealed itself.

Gotye’s words also teach us about humility in creation. To admit “I am not quite sure” is not weakness but wisdom. For the artist does not force the work into a rigid mold; he allows it to grow, to evolve, to surprise even its maker. This is the difference between shallow creation and living art. The same is true of life: wisdom comes not from controlling every piece, but from listening, adjusting, and allowing the unexpected to become central.

The lesson for us is clear: be flexible with the puzzle of your life. Do not despair if pieces do not fit where you first imagined. Do not cling so tightly to your plans that you cannot see new possibilities. What you thought was failure may in time be revealed as your chorus. What you thought was loss may later return as the hook that defines your story. Trust the process of rearrangement, for life is not a straight line, but a melody ever shifting into beauty.

Practical wisdom follows: when you face confusion, do not rush to discard the pieces. Keep them, hold them, return to them later. In your work, in your relationships, in your journey, be willing to move things around. Re-examine, reframe, rediscover. The fragments of today may become the foundation of tomorrow. In this way, your life will be not a broken puzzle, but a song—crafted not through certainty, but through patience, courage, and openness to change.

Thus remember Gotye’s teaching: “Sometimes…I’m not quite sure how they fit in the puzzle of a tune…things get shifted around a lot.” Take it as a parable for your own days. Be not afraid of shifting, for in the shifting lies discovery. Be not afraid of rearrangement, for in rearrangement lies harmony. And in time, when the puzzle comes together, you will hear the song of your life—woven of fragments, reshaped by change, yet beautiful beyond all expectation.