 |
| Photo courtesy Iva Balk |
“…your story doesn’t have to be perfect or complete to
inspire others. After all, perfect isn’t real. We cannot connect with, or be
moved or changed by perfection.”
—Courtney Carver, Soulful Simplicity
“Being present means honoring what is real in
our lives. When we only show others the appearance of perfect, we miss the
opportunity to meet them in the place where we are deeply seen.”
 |
| Beautifully imperfect |
“It’s great to be
great, but it’s greater to be human.”
—Will Rogers
I have a confession to make. I’m not perfect. No, really, I
know you all thought I was and you’re probably very disappointed to learn
otherwise. Oh, wait. You didn’t think
I was perfect. I did. Or, more
accurately, I hoped you thought I
was, if not perfect, then very, very close to it. It gives me great pain—and
also great relief—to finally admit, publicly, that I’m flawed. I can be messy,
selfish, stubborn, controlling, I hate to admit I’m wrong… I could go on, but
my ego is begging me to quit. I’d really prefer to list “faults” that are
really virtues in disguise (as we’ve been told to do on job interviews), but
I’m finally becoming too old wise not to accept all parts of myself.
I’m tired of being afraid of mistakes and missteps, of being
paralyzed by fear of looking foolish or hypocritical. I’m tired of unreasonable
expectations (my own and society’s). I’m tired of perfectionism when it comes
to appearance or character or accomplishment. I’m tired of trying to force
myself into even attempting to look perfect when—newsflash!—NO ONE
is perfect. No, not even me.
Why am I so afraid of showing my imperfections, of looking
foolish and admitting mistakes? One reason—I feel a certain shame in admitting
imperfection. I should always be
kind, warm, giving, an excellent writer, wife and mother, and, on top of that,
perfectly fit and healthy. (Shouldn’t I?) My people-pleasing, perfectionist
little heart doesn’t want to do anything “wrong” and risk rejection. At bottom,
I’m truly afraid if I don’t present myself as darn near perfect, I am not
“enough”—and I won’t be liked, let alone loved.
I’m not sure exactly where this comes from. Perhaps because I’ve
been given so much in my life—in teaching, examples to follow, health, good
fortune and opportunity. I feel I have no excuse for not being, at the very
least, really, really close to
perfection. I don’t want to waste what I’ve been given. However, just because I
know better doesn’t mean I can always
do better. I’m still human, and to be
human is to make mistakes. I’m still working on feeling OK with that.
The funny thing is, pretending to be perfect actually keeps
me from receiving the love I want. Sharing mistakes and
weaknesses—imperfections—deepens intimacy between people. And keeping up an
appearance of perfection means I can’t share my weaknesses with others, and
perhaps receive the help and encouragement I need. It also may keep others from
sharing their imperfections with me and allowing me to help them.
Life isn’t about being perfect. It’s about growing, learning
from mistakes when we make them. My faults don’t define me. They are just
threads woven into the cloth of my personality. I also have many good
qualities, and it’s the unique combination of faults and virtues that makes me me. I am human, and learning to be happily
so. I want to be loved in spite of and because of my faults. I can’t hide them,
from myself or from others. I’m taking to heart Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton’s words:
“If you wish to be loved, show more of your faults than your virtues.”
What have you learned from imperfection? How do you
overcome your own perfectionism?
“Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect.
It means you’ve decided to look beyond the
imperfections.”
—Unknown
Reading this post reminded me of a concept I’ve heard about that comes from Japanese culture: Wabi-Sabi. To sum it up in a rather general way, wabi-sabi is the art of finding and honoring beauty in the imperfect.
Now this is a concept I can get behind! I love the look of old and imperfect things. I buy distressed furniture, partly because we tend to distress things ourselves even if they don’t come that way, but also because it appeals to me. I find old pieces with a few battle scars much more appealing than something brand new and sleekly perfect. However, wabi-sabi is more than a design aesthetic. It’s a whole outlook on life, an outlook that “[acknowledges] three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect,” (Richard R. Powell, Wabi Sabi Simple).
Wabi-sabi doesn’t just put up with imperfection—it embraces it. That’s a good thing for all of us. I’m guessing you’re not perfect—I know I’m not. When I find myself bogged down in the same old issues, now I see I need to go beyond accepting that I’m imperfect all the way to loving my imperfections. This really goes against the grain for those of us in a culture that believes all personal faults should be eradicated immediately, if not sooner.
Perfect doesn’t exist. Imperfect—with all its glorious faults and detours and mistakes-that-turn-into-blessings—does. So today, let go of one thing you’re still a perfectionist about. Examine and embrace the flaws you see. Let the beauty of wabi-sabi wash over your life.
To learn more about wabi-sabi, go here.
