The Gifts of Imperfection

The Gifts of Imperfection

This weekend, I took a trip to Salt Lake City.

    The night before I went, I got a nasty bite to the face by a spooked dog who, despite how blubberingly cute he was, was actually NOT ready or willing to receive my kisses, thank you very much. Shame and embarrassment at my seeming inability to interact with animals gave way to a lot of physical pain, expecially when trying to eat sandwiches (dry bread on equivalent of a giant canker sore = ouch). This muted my enthusiasm for nice meals.

    I tried to hike the Red Butte Garden and contemplate, but ran out of breath because I’m out of shape and found that I got distracted quite a lot amidst the beauty of the gardens. I went to the zoo, and found there weren’t as many exhibits as I would’ve liked. I nearly fell asleep several times at the symphony. Understanding the modern art pieces at the gallery I visited was quite the struggle. I spent time with friends; I’m in a healthier place than I’ve ever been in relation to other people, and I cherished every nourishing moment I spent with loved ones and old and new. Homey, warm, like a fire on a crisp, autumn evening. And yet, my anxieties still cropped up, like a storm threatening thunder over the horizon, or the breeze blowing sparks and smoke into my face. Some encounters lacked the depth I sorely desire from others. Some people had to cancel, others didn’t get the memo in time, others got the memo but after the fact, I missed a few messages here and a few cues there and felt tired and didn’t like some of the food and struggled at times to stay engaged, stay honest, and stay intimate in my relations with others. I am sure that others involved in my vacation could say the same.

    In other words, it was an imperfect attempt at joyful life.

 

 Embracing the discontent

         

    How do I cope with the fact that things are not perfect, and there is so much in my experiences (such as this weekend trip) that could have been better?

    Discontent is not a bad thing. I do myself a disservice if I do not listen to the part of myself that yearns for things to be more, different, better. When harnessed, this impulse has proven to be an excellent impetus for reflection, considering where things could be improved and finding insight into ways to address that need for improvement.

    I have also found that when allowed to become the main focus during an experience, that discontent can be destructive. If all I think about when attempting to listen to music or converse with a friend or eat a meal is how this, that or the other piece of it could be better, then it co-opts my attention at the expense of whatever moment life is inviting me to experience.

    It is difficult to live joyfully. It is a complex set of skills that requires time, experience, patience, and hope to develop. The process of learning them can be difficult to endure, especially when dangerous missteps lead us to stumble painfully. And yet, we persist, and stay present with our experiences, because that allows us to deeply learn how to reach the goal of a joyful life. This is the gift of imperfection. This perspective has been key to me to help me understand the difficulty of my attempts at living well.

    I am in gratitude for my experiences this weekend. They have brought me joy. Thank you, loves, for persisting with me to this point in my journey. I sincerely hope that we all may hold each other with grace as we learn from our mistakes what our own point to exist is. Thanks Vance, Charles, Chad, Michael, Perry, Ben. Thanks Rod, T & L and company, Ricardo, and dear Lucas. Your love and embrace matters so much. I love you.