In secret, we all dream of perfect. The perfect life, words, work, selves. In truth, that dream limits us. How much we expect perfect sets the standard and sets our level of contentment. We, humans, are incapable of perfect but talented enough to glimpse it. That’s the rub. We can have perfect moments, but time is cruel. Moments pass and we are left in thirst for another perfect one. We can miss so many splendid moments seeking perfection. It can spoil a good day for not being just right. I’m no optimist. If you don’t believe me check some of my past posts. If anything I consider myself a pessimistic realist.
I don’t love life but I don’t hate it. Sometimes I love life, like on a warm summer day my toes buried in sand and salt water up to my chest. Or walking with my best friend looking at things other people and time have dismissed looking for treasures. Even listening to someone sharing their triumphs talking about how their people supported their dreams and knowing I am lucky enough to say the same. Other times I hate life. Most of the time because I’m acting like an entitled petulant child and the world hasn’t given me what I want. I despair at my lack of money, or my injuries, or any other myriad of things that everyone else is struggling with.
I’m okay with missing perfect as long as I aspire to it. I’m okay with missing perfect because my life’s balance tilt’s to the good. We would all be better off looking at the things we are blessed with in our lives and balancing them against the trials we are presented with. If you are in deficit with more bad than good, change what you can and cherish the good. Life’s long and arduous, not typically short and unless you are extremely lucky not very easy. We are all missing perfect, chase it but don’t let it make you miss the good.