The Art of Imperfection

As usual, I have crossed the finish line of the week and soaring onto plains of ecstasy that usually enrapture my spirit Friday afternoon around 3 o’clock, I become very happy. But then, as usual, after that dreamlike flight upon the heavenly boughs of weekend freedom, my joyful stupor is cleared away by the coming of Saturday afternoon... in which I sit staring dully out the window, chewing over that all too familiar question:

“Jennie, what are you doing with your life?”

How can life be as perfect as possible? How can I enjoy my weekend to the absolute fullest? Am I doing everything right?

The general state within my head is a box full of unsorted emotions, a to-do list of dreams, and, most prominently, a vague feeling of being not quite satisfied in life. It is as if some object hangs within a phantom sphere, just waiting for me to figure out what it is. It is the elusive promise that whispers to me, "If you can just figure out this mysterious elixir of life you will be completely satisfied forever."  This mystical knowledge though, eludes me. I thought it might be found at Wal-mart, I thought it might be found in a book, in a paragraph of proses, in the vacuum cleaner or at my beading table. I thought if I learned how to be better, I would feel better. But actually...I usually feel worse. There must be some cliched secret of happiness that just hasn’t clicked yet.

You know, in college you are supposed to figure out your future and what you want to do with your life. But somehow I missed that important class. And it caused me so much agony, the not knowing, that I really hated me on the inside. But I think that is just the catch, isn’t it? Before you can learn how to live well in the world, you need to learn how to live well inside yourself. It seems the daily torment of the perfectionist is trying so hard to do everything right, that you end up doing everything wrong! It's paralyzing.

Life is about making mistakes! Life is about changing your mind. Life is about being strong enough to say you are weak and honest enough to admit you don’t have a clue. I mean, how else will you learn the difference between what you think is best and what really is best? I feel so envious of people who can actually make a good, old fashioned mistake—admit it, learn from it, and move on without pining over it or analyzing it for years.

So what sort of treatment is there for people who are plagued by perfection? For in all actuality, the noble charge of a perfectionist is the the endless quest for the unachievable. And that can be rather maddening.

All I can come up with this saturday is the long, lost words of an old English teacher: 

"Forget about being perfect. You'll avoid having ulcers and you will live longer."

So here's to today: To not being perfect. To not having it all figured out. To writing a not so perfect blog entry. To having bad grammer, to having mispelled words, about not knowing everything, not having a list, not having a goal.... Not having a single clue.

Today will be about listening to Christmas songs too early. Blowing bubbles in my strawberry milk. Making a mess. Singing off key. Having coffee after my bedtime. Saying something stupid and not caring. Letting my drawers stay unorganized. Today will be about looking boldly at the clock without guilt that I am wasting a perfectly good day of freedom. 

Today I will not figure out my life. Today I will practice the art of imperfection. <3

Do What You are Afraid To Do

A new chapter begins in many people's lives this week. At close of which, I find my usual philosophic verbiage threatening to choke me if I do not release a few quick thoughts. First of all, I cannot feel too grateful of the chance I have to be here. This really is a beautiful place; a sort of cocoon of safety I feel it is.

For the past few weeks a single phrase has been running through my mind. Mystically as it entered, even more mystically it has somehow become ingrained as a fixed, immovable epitaph carved into my character:

Do what you are afraid to do.

My resilience this week has been nothing short of mind-blowing. For a melodramatic, worryaholic I cannot believe how I have been able to not only survive the week—but nay! I have smiled and laughed and sailed through it with joy! There are so many beautiful people in my life! I have enjoyed so many parts of it that there really is no excuse for a long, dreary monologue of my dark misfortunes or tragic deprivations of a peaceful heart. (Mostly because there is a deprivation of deprivations, if that makes any sense!)
 
Simply the fact remains: the formidable blow for which I had been waiting has not struck. The axe has not fallen, the heart has not cracked under pressure, and the mind has not discovered any empty pockets of longing nor whipped together the lethal mixture of self-pity and ingratitude.

Upon the threshold of this new chapter of my life, there were a few, prodigiously marked fears that stormed the tranquility of my mind. One fear I discovered was not a fear at all. Though it has drained quite a bit of my energy it has been hemmed with love, pleasure, laughter, and a very unexpected feeling of familiarity and comfort. The other fear has, again, turned out to be not a fear at all! But a reason to rejoice! A victory! A feeling of beautiful escape and freedom. And, I might add with a sly little smile, the enchantments have worn so quickly away that the whole of it looks extremely ridiculous to me now. I would not wish it back for the world!

I venture a guess at what magically transformed all this dread into happy butterflies and contented smiles. I can say—without a doubt—that God must be the master behind the scene. He must be the author of this little story of my life. He must have sprinkled magical dust on my silly, dramatic heart and calmed it as only divine intervention can do.

My advice to the world today is this: Do what you are afraid to do.

If you think about it logically, if you do so often what strikes fear in your heart, after a while, you won’t be afraid any longer. Then you shall be powerful and strong and—dare I say—incredibly well-equipped to fight the harder foes of this world!

And really, most of the time, the fear of something is much greater than the object itself. It reminds me of the verse:

“I, yes I, am the one who comforts you.

So why are you afraid of mere humans,

who wither like the grass and disappear?

Yet you have forgotten the Lord, your Creator,

the one who stretched out the sky like a canopy

and laid the foundations of the earth.

Will you remain in constant dread of human oppressors?

Will you continue to fear the anger of your enemies?

Where is their fury and anger now?

It is gone!” Is. 51:12-13

Letting Little Things Bother You

In the neat and tidy corner of my mind, I tinker and toy with a few thoughts. I think about the story I am writing…wondering where the rebel horse Esperanza will go after she’s broken free from the palace; or how to cleverly introduce my hero into the story without him tripping over a few holes I’ve forgotten to fill in along the plot. I think about the upcoming week, how I will ever make it through work knowing that my family, kittens, a pool, Hobby Lobby, and three weeks of 24/7 freedom wait on the other side… I also think about this weird headache in my head and wonder if any moment I might plop over dead from a mysterious illness that no one had ever heard of.

All of them, however, fail to distract me from the naughty, unpleasant little sprite that keeps throwing pens and wads of paper and my green flip flops at my head. It should be something that a mature, wise, noble 25 year old could easily ignore. I’ve had much greater things thrown at me. But sometimes it’s those little things, the paper clip in your eye or the hanger that hits you just right on your elbow that cause the angriest kind of frustration. I mean, anyone can battle a furious tiger on their way to the mail box. There is great honor and adventure and bravery in such battles!

But it is humiliating to acknowledge that something as small and insignificant as a tiny, sprite flicking erasers at you would get under your skin enough to rouse such volcanic anger. An annoying gnat buzzing around your head, dropping your toast on the jelly side, running out of gas, getting a paper cut, being fussed at, someone acting petty, a tear in your nylons,  someone stealing your parking spot--all of those tiny, minuscule, frustrating, aggravating little things that try to just push us over the edge...can really do just that.

Great, wise people—the ones who are usually dead—give us lots of cliched, sage-like tips on how to combat the little nuisances of life. They tell us to let go, to wait, to have patience, to stop seeking happiness and let it come to you, to smile, to laugh more, to dance in the rain, to forgive—and to love. Somehow love seems to be the panacea to every problem in the entire world. Love everybody and everything will be okay. They are all pretty thoughts…but how do you turn them into actions? How do you love people who really, quite honestly, make you unhappy or angry? How do you wait a year when you think you cannot wait another second? How do you feel happy when there is a storm inside of you?

And really, how do you ignore those pestering, annoying, mind-maddening, bamboozling little sprites when they just simply will not leave you alone?

If I had a magical sock that would sing you the truth—opera style— every time you wore it on your hand and asked it the secrets of the universe, I could probably tell you the answer to all those questions easily. As it is, however, that I am clean out of magical socks (that nasty little sprite has stolen them) I will just find resolution upon this idea:

That the more you grow and the more you experience, the more you mellow out…the more you realize just how silly it is to get so upset over little things. You fail to find the reasons, which seemed so earth shattering before, that made you a mess. And you begin to realize you have more power than you think. You can be confident, you can be strong, because you realize that you are perfectly able to handle the daily troubles of this life. And when the little sprite rubs its hands together in devilish glee and heaves  a toaster,your way you, for the first time in your life, are able to choose whether or not you shall grab the imp and lock him up in the drawer or display your control of self by simply ignoring him altogether.

Some people never get to this place…others do. I will get there one day. Perseverance and faith is the key.

Faith gives you the hope that the next day will not be so bad. Perseverance gives you the strength to actually carry it out. How do you get perseverance and faith? I don’t feel them as often as I’d like, and it is only by the grace of God that I feel them at all. The more you are put in situations that test your strength, the stronger you will become. You don't just get perseverance by wishing for it or praying desperately to God...no, instead God sends you boot camp obstacles to train you and make you fit. The greatest things in life usually take the greatest effort. And if we keep at it, never give up, we will win in the end.

So when little things are bothering you, remember that they won't always bother you. Someday it will all make sense. Someday you will laugh at how upset you got, but you will understand why you did. Never give up. Push through a rough day. Sometimes you will sweat the small stuff… but that doesn't mean you'll always sweat the small stuff.

At least this is what I believe… I’ve let ridiculous things bother me and usually end up laughing about it some time later.  Have patience with yourself. You'll get there soon if you never give up! You know what they say, “All good things come to those who ignore sprites…”

Or something like that…