Two Notions of Perfect
There is a common notion of “Perfect” as something like a Platonic ideal. Precise. Optimal. In this kind of Perfect, we create a fantastic illusory world and hold it up next to our own, notice all the ways ours doesn’t line up. Always something short or shy, misaligned or missing, disappointing or damaged. Just wrong.
There is rich suffering in the loam of this Perfect world. What you plant here might grow with volume, strictly spaced, carefully selected for color and size, force-fed monoculture tended with the whisper of “still not quite right.” There is very little room for a wild thing like joy to root in the rows of this garden.
Another way to think of “Perfect” is Just so. Not ideal or optimal, but simply it is what it is, no more, no less. When we stand in this notion of Perfect, rather than creating an alternate reality, we give grace to this one. We practice loosening rows and releasing control. We begin to see things without the shadow of that other world. Nothing too this or too that. Nothing missing. Nothing wrong.
In this world, imperfection does not actually exist. This Perfect calls us to be responsible for the brambles of suffering that creep in through the cracks in our compassion, fed by a punishing loyalty to that other – sterile – ideal. Here we can weed them out and tend to what grows in our garden with “It’s okay. I accept you. I love you without condition.”
We may be confronted by the idea that this world is perfect, by our disagreement with the wild chance of it. We may be haunted by the ghosts we imagine singing to us from that other Perfect fantasy. It’s okay. These are only a few more lingering sufferings, gummy filters gathered over our eyes. When we see imperfections, there is nothing actually wrong. The fault is only with our seeing. All there really is to do is clear our vision with the waters of grace.
Grace is what we use to soften our hearts when they’ve grown stiff with insistence. Grace fosters our forgiveness for the suffering we have found or caused in ourselves or others. Grace loosens our grip on being right and courts us with the profound gift of a perfect present, right here, right now. Grace says, “Everything is okay. Let go. This is perfect.”
Everything is okay. Let go. This is perfect.
Everything is okay. Let go. This is perfect.
Today notice where your eyes see imperfection, question that belief that something is wrong. Notice how that belief, that feeling of wrongness, causes suffer in yourself or others. Liberally apply the fresh, pure water of grace, as if it comes from a bottomless well.
It does.
