On perfection

This blog is not perfect. Neither in terms of structure, nor in language, nor in any way. It is imperfect. I know it, you know it. It's that simple. But it hasn't always been easy to admit this.

To acknowledge that I make mistakes, that I am sometimes clumsy or vulnerable, and that I am also aging, my figure isn't what it used to be, I can't swim well, I can't cook, and my English isn't good enough. In other words, I am far from perfect. Because I am human.

 

Does perfection even exist in this life? To be able to answer that, more questions arise within me. What does it mean to be perfect? From whose perspective, in their opinion? Does universally accepted perfection exist, something we all strive for? Or is it an internal compulsion to be flawless in everything, always?

 

Unfortunately, I can relate very well to internal compulsion, as it was the guiding principle of my life for decades, and it took a lot of work to free myself from it. And even now, it occasionally raises its voice, but I must be very alert to catch it in time and stop the process. My experience is that it is like a spiral. At first, we only strive to avoid making small mistakes, then we dive deeper and deeper into the sea of imperfection, and in the end, we try to keep our mistakes under constant control and suffocate ourselves. Naturally, we fail. The more we try to control something, the less successful we become.

I am not perfect, but at the same time, it is my imperfections that make me unique. There is no one else like me. Maybe I can't cook, but I can organize anything at any time, I can make great coffee, I am full of creative ideas, I am a great listener, and I have a generally good sense of humour. Not too much, but not too little either. What if instead of focusing on my mistakes, I started appreciating the imperfect in me?