Today I pondered the idea of perfection, how people are always striving for it, wanting to obtain it somehow. I concluded that I, for one, would not want anything to be perfect, I absolutely would not.
Every person, every thing … every animal, every plant is so close to perfection that it can take your breath away. At the same time, it leaves a vast amount of room for newness, for recreation. Each and every one of those new things popping into the world is equally … as the first … close to perfect, also maintaining a vast amount of space for the re-birthing of itself.
There is a path to perfection,
It has a yellow dotted line down the center.
The path to the right, trod by many in a quest for this perfection
Full of pot-holes, falling apart, becoming rubble.
The path to the left of the dotted line,
Coming back from perfections quest
Was not worn at all, perhaps only walked upon
By a few.
When the realization occurs knowing that perfection is in everything, and it lies in the imperfect qualities that all hold, allowing a precious gift of space for others to contribute to the ever flowing form of Life, a relaxation of a sort settles in.