For the first time in my life, I’ve had a loss of interest in perfection.
As a young person growing up attending youth group and attaching myself fully to the lessons that I learned there. I became obsessed with the idea of always striving for perfection. I learned that early and I continued to chase after that form of morality for the duration of my life so far.
Just like anything else, it’s a double edged sword. While it has made me the kind of person who insists on being the best that I can be in any given situation, it has also caused me sleepless nights and a general unrest in my existence.
The truth is that perfection is an illusion. To be truly perfect at one thing guarantees that you can’t be perfect at another. If I perfect the art of resting then I will by default lose the ability to be perfect at productivity.
I’m at a season in my life where perfection no longer feels like the appropriate response to wanting to be the best that I can be. I’m much more interested in letting go and trusting myself and others. I’m fascinated with the idea of falling short sometimes and dusting myself off to try again. In dredging my hands in my imperfections and asking myself what the flip side is. What good do these perceived shortcomings bring into my life?
I want to feel the messiness of life, to fight and to forgive. I want to speak my truth and admit when I am wrong. I want to try things that I’m probably going to be bad at and have fun anyway.
At the end of the day, perfection is simply an illusion that we can grasp for but never actually grab hold of and who wants to be a hologram anyway?