On Perfection

I like to walk alone because that's my time to think.  This morning I was also on the hunt for some leaves and flowers to use in a class I will be teaching this coming weekend.  As I stood looking at a bush, trying to decide on the perfect leaf, I thought of that word:  Perfect.  Perfection.  What is it?  What was I looking for?

The idea of perfection is something that I have been chasing all my life.  As they say, we are our own worst critic, and I am sure that is true for me.  I measure myself by that elusive perfect and always fall short in my own eyes.  But I don't expect perfect from others.  Why should I expect it for myself?  I suppose I could trace it back to something in my childhood or spend forever talking about it in therapy.  In fact, I have talked about it in therapy.  A lot.  It is the root of all my problems, I am sure, my pursuit of perfection.

My brain equates imperfect with not good enough.  In everything:  The way I look, the things I do, the jewelry I make.  But, the truth is, I am imperfect.  So are you.  So is everyone.  If you think you're perfect, then you have more problems than I do.

I give great advice.  To other people.  So when I think about something like this, it's best for me to think about how I would talk to someone else about it.  So here's the part where I tell you that imperfect does not equal not good enough and that it most likely is not only good enough it is the best it can be.

If I keep telling myself this, maybe one day I will believe it.  I am what I am and I'm not perfect.  But I do my best and, while that is not perfect it is the best I can do.   It's tiring and self-defeating to continue to chase perfection. Also, futile.  And our imperfections are what make us who we are and aren't necessarily bad.  What I see as an imperfection in a piece of jewelry I have made, someone else sees as a quality that comes from being handmade, or they don't see it at all.  Like Willow's eyes.  Crossed eyes are considered a defect in the Siamese breed and a disqualifier in shows.  But I wouldn't have her anyway else.  Her crossed eyes make her the goofy-looking, clumsy, sweet cat that she is.

I know I would tell you here, if you asked, to accept your imperfections, and perhaps even embrace them, but while I think I've become a bit easier on myself as I have aged, I'm not sure I'm ready for that. 

As I thought of these things, I chose my leaves.  And they are not perfect, but they beautiful as they are and the best they will be.