the Perfection...(growing pains)
per·fec·tion: pərˈfekSH(ə)n/: noun
is defined as...
1. the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.
2. a person or thing perceived as the embodiment of perfection.
the ideal, a paragon, the ne plus ultra, a nonpareil, the crème de la crème, the last word, the ultimate, the best;
"More the action or process of improving something until it is faultless or as faultless as possible."
Who determines our standards of perfection with which we drive ourselves to?
Are we not all in a constant state of "improvement, betterment, refining, and honing"?
And if we aren't...
we have achieved x, y or z...
where do we sit, looking outward and basking in this isolated space of perfection?
There is nowhere to go once we reach a state of (imagined) perfection.
In our lives,
on our mats
or in our outward search for "more".
My sea walks (with inspired bouts of yoga and photo snaps) have started to lean to a repetitive conversation with my companion.
We always look for our favorite shells to collect. Slow walks, downcast gazes and easy conversations are had in this magical, cleansing space.
"Oh look at this one!
(Slow pause)...
It would have been perfect if..."
and we toss it back into the sea.
"Oh, I wish that one was whole...
or shinier...
or didn't have that hole".
The photography of my poses takes on the same tone...
"oh the light is strange,
or
can you zoom out a bit
or
my lines aren't correct..
we will delete that one."
We see the shells' scars and edges that are worn. Broken pieces, halves with their beautiful patterns, elusive because we can't imagine it in its whole state.
We criticize ourselves
and others
and our poses
the same way.
Like the shells, my scars are plentiful.
As are most people I know.
We all have a story, a pain, a badge of honor we carry in our pockets that we struggled through...
a rock we were battered against
or wave we were tossed carelessly by.
What if every scar
or our tears
or pains
were blazoned across our skin?
Would we be discarded by others as easily as we toss those simple shells back into the sea?
We search for perfection...
in a mate
in a job
in a house
in our lives
and especially on our mats.
We demand it...
we expect it...
we struggle to attain it.
But at what cost?
Maybe, if we turned our souls inside out, we would have much more compassion and gratitude for others.
If they could see our broken pieces too. Our flaws,
our dance with our struggles.
Our scars make us beautiful. Our pains provide opportunity for growth if we walk through them.
We must share our stories,
allow ourselves
and others to heal ...
then allow all those broken pieces to evolve into something beautiful.
Something that,
one day,
someone...
will truly see...
and find the art,
magic
and inspiration in.
Only then do we grow.
Struggle not towards perfection...
just growth,
constant growth...
Walk the path.
Enjoy the journey!
Be Yoga....
Namaste'
