Nope. I’m not one of you. Perfectionism is one of the afflictions I have not been burdened with.
It’s evident not only from my occasional typos on this blog and my disrespect for conventional writing-rules, but from the blatant joy I seem to take in putting less than polished posts on chat boards without hiding my identity. I’m just happy to be there and to put myself out there. It’s FINE.
I had a friend years ago who made the most elegant ceramics. She would not allow the flawed ones to be displayed. By “flawed” I mean the tiniest imperfections you’d need a microscope to see.
Another old friend made exquisite textiles. Few of her pieces were ever completed. There was always something wrong with each. A stitch out of place the size of a microbe, and the piece was relegated to the shredded heap of dusting cloths.
I also have a relative who has been working on the same first half of her first book for thirteen years. By now the text is barely coherent from all the critical surgeries it had endured.
Now you understand why I see this not as a search for excellence, something I understand, admire and participate in. Perfectionism is a serious affliction.
There is a saying attributed to the Muslim mystic Ibn Arabi: “The universe’s imperfection is part of its perfection.” More than seven hundred years later Leonard Cohen said it this way: “…Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything- that’s how the light gets in.
^^^Celebrating the cracks and imperfections.^^^ Come dance with me.