This Week's Monday Moanin'

Life's funny

Sometimes funny 'ha-ha', sometimes funny 'hmmm.'

Less than an hour after standing in awe of Michelangelo’s ‘David’, an inspiring, perhaps perfect, work of art, I had one of those moments. I was sitting in a sidewalk café in Florence with friends, having a glass of wine and something to eat, watching people stroll through the piazza. It was perfect, not perfection. I’ve had better wine, a more attentive waiter, sat in a more comfortable chair, been happier with another pair of sunglasses. None of that occurred to me at that moment, because I was not pursuing perfection.

Someone once said: “The perfect is the enemy of the good.” Perfectionism can be destructive in the sense that it sometimes does not allow the joyous, yet flawed, aspects of our life to be acceptable, even desirable.

At different times I have pursued my version of perfection, when the word ‘excellent’ would have sufficed. In truth, I don’t seek absolute perfection, but I am compelled toward some high standard that makes good enough never good enough. While that often produces good outcomes, it exacts a price.

Starting any endeavor of any consequence one should aim for the best possible conclusion. I don’t want a life where I wake up with the goal of mediocrity. On the other hand, perfection demands you watch where you step and sometimes you miss the real view on the horizon while you’re staring at your feet.

This is the tightrope on which we all teeter.

Perfectionism is also a bedmate of procrastination. Many of us will become paralyzed with the thought of a perfect goal and never begin what might bring us the most happiness. ‘I will not start this next important part of my life until all circumstances align for perfection.’ This is sometimes the monster that keeps the writer in me from completing the first imperfect sentence.

So what is this all about? Surely before today you have realized that perfection is a demanding and dangerous aspiration. Here’s a lesson from my life: just because you know something doesn’t mean you are done learning it.

It takes practice to assimilate imperfection into your life. Or more accurately, to be willing to accept ‘the good’. Perhaps even choose it.

In a few weeks my sons will be sixteen. I want to acknowledge the day with some appropriate celebration, some significant gift, some memorable experience. But as I tried to wrestle perfection down, life kept getting in the way. This date is wrong. That gift is impractical. That party doesn’t make sense. I felt frustrated and guilty.

Impulsively I bought six tickets to see one of our favorite comedians. Sure, the seats could have been better, another night might have been more convenient, and it’s not really their birthday yet. Blah, blah, blah. Sitting in the theater last night, I could hear my children laughing so hard they had to gasp for breath and I thought: “Life is good.” Which is the gift I would choose for them long before I would offer them perfection.

Hope this finds you perfectly good,

David

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