part0079

T he holiday festivities had long passed, leaving the usually crowded New York streets empty. It was as though the city had gone into mass hibernation, bracing itself against the mirthless stretch of winter ahead.

My then-partner and I had been going through a rough patch, so I decided to plan a romantic stay-at-home date night for us. I had tracked down that bottle of wine we’d enjoyed at our favorite place that had since been shuttered. On the menu was handmade sweet potato gnocchi. I had never made it before, but I knew she loved it. How hard could it be?

Turns out, really hard. Naturally everything went comically wrong from the get-go, and I had to start over from scratch . . . a few times. I spent hours baffled by the recipe, my face as contorted as the potatoes. As the hours passed, I grew increasingly irritable and frantic. The image of her coming home to a perfectly dressed table, flickering candles, with music softly playing in the background was going up in smoke.

By the skin of my teeth, I got it done. She walked in, saw the table, dropped all her bags, and jumped into my arms, burying her cold face in my chest. When she looked up at me, her huge smile faded a little and she asked me what was wrong. “Nothing,” I replied sullenly, dusting flour off my pants.

We sat down and she went on about how amazing everything was, but I was too busy brooding over all the mistakes I had made preparing the meal. This was undercooked, that was too cold . . . I was comparing what was with what I had hoped would be: that perfect image in my mind. The only thing I failed to see was how enchanted she was by the gesture and how that joy slowly drained as I kept harping on about what I could have done better. I managed to spoil the most important ingredient of the dinner: our time together. All because I wanted everything to be perfect.

Perfection is an unnatural and damaging concept. I say unnatural because as far as I’m able to tell, there is not a single thing in the physical world, when examined closely enough, that fully adheres to our own definition of perfection: that which is faultless and cannot be improved upon. Even our standards of measurement don’t comply. For example, the International Prototype of the Kilogram, more affectionately known as Le Grand K (it was created in France), was the physical object that set the standard of one of the most widely used measurements of weight in the world. Duplicates were shipped around the globe for other countries to use as their standard. It turned out that over time these “perfect” objects had individually changed in mass. For a standard of weight, that’s a critical problem. After all, a perfect absolute should not be able to change. That’s why, these days, such standards are expressed in terms of equations and concepts.

Now you may fire back and say, “What about me getting 100 percent on my math test? That’s a perfect score!” Sure, your answers may have been correct, but were the questions? What was the point of the test? Was it a perfect way of assessing your ability? No, tests are approximations at best. There are plenty of people who test well yet perform poorly. There are even more who test poorly but perform well.

One could argue that perfection only exists in the intangible concepts, theories, and beliefs used to define the ideal, the permanent, and the divine. Why am I belaboring this point? Because the idea of perfection all too often sabotages our ability to become who we have the potential to be.

We’re marvelous yet imperfect creatures—and few things make this as clear as inventing unattainable standards to hold ourselves to. So our aspirations often wither on the vine because of our inability to live up to the misguided ideals we hold for our bodies, our minds, our achievements, and our relationships.

Failing to be perfect is one of our biggest sources of self-loathing. It’s intentionality gone bad, where we spend time and energy undoing our progress. We tear up our plans, recommit to counterproductive behaviors, and empower our inner critic.

The big misconception is that the alternative to perfection is failure. Mercifully, life isn’t binary; it exists on a spectrum. On one side, we have the unattainable: perfection. On the opposite side, we find the unavoidable: chaos. All of the beauty that exists in the world hangs in the balance.

In Japan, there is the term wabi-sabi . Wabi-sabi posits that the beauty of an object is found in its imperfection. In direct contrast to the Western perspective, which tends to conflate perfection with beauty, wabi-sabi celebrates transience, individuality, and the flawed nature of a thing. These are the qualities that make it unique, genuine, and beautiful. The cracks in the pot, the warp in the wood, the leaves on the stone, the spatter of the ink. It mirrors the Buddhist philosophies, in which wisdom comes from making peace with our fallible natures.

Embracing our imperfection puts the emphasis back where it should be: continual improvement. This mind-set turns mistakes from land mines into street signs, pointing us toward where we need to go.

Now, you may be thinking, I’m all too aware of how human I am; I don’t need any more practice in imperfection . It’s not about making mistakes on purpose; it’s about reframing your response to them. In meditation, the goal, so far as there can be one, is to be present. By disentangling ourselves from our thoughts, we can view them objectively. Easier said than done.

Even the most experienced practitioners are consumed by their thoughts from time to time. The key is realizing that you’re stuck in a thought, and pulling yourself back out of it. More so, it’s to perceive the wanderings of your mind not as a mistake, but as an opportunity. Each time you come back into the present, you ever so slightly strengthen your ability to focus. In this way, you begin to embrace a flaw with curiosity instead of judgment.

Are you the type of person who strives to have a perfect notebook? Maybe you don’t have great handwriting, or you lack the artistic ability to make your notebook pretty. Does that matter? Only if you want it to. You could look at your notebook as the evidence of your imperfections, or you could look at it as a testament to your courage. Those crooked lines and rough letters paint a picture of someone striving to learn and make a positive change in their life. It may not be perfect, but it’s unquestionably beautiful.

Do you abandon notebooks when you make a mistake or get a false start? If so, try creating an “Imperfection Collection.” Somewhere in your notebook, dedicate space where you just. let. go. Maybe start by writing your name with your nondominant hand. Scribble, doodle, whatever you like. Do what you fear would make your notebook feel flawed. Does it make your Bullet Journal any less valuable? No. One could argue that now it’s one of a kind. Whenever you find yourself obsessing over getting every little thing perfect, remind yourself it’s just a tool. It’s what you’re building that counts.

Isn’t self-improvement or personal development striving for perfection? It depends on the goal you set. Rather than aiming for perfection or striving to be better than others, find opportunities to continually improve yourself. As W. L. Sheldon purportedly wrote: “There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.”

To fully appreciate wabi-sabi as a model for personal growth, it helps to look a little closer at the culture it originated in. The Japanese have a long history of elevating craftsmanship to mystifying levels, be it carpentry, metalsmithing, even product packaging. Great emphasis was placed on mastery rather than on perfection. Mastery, unlike perfection, embraces both transience and imperfection, because it is a process, a state of being, not an end goal. It is the continued result of improvement and learning. Author Malcolm Gladwell, citing Daniel Levitin, famously described the 10,000-hour rule, which states that 10,000 hours of deliberate practice is required to become world-class at anything. 55 Japanese apprenticeships could span a lifetime.

Mastery replaces the notion of perfection with aspiring to better ourselves through dedication and practice. When it comes to skill, there can be no fixed point. Even the greatest masters remain avid students. Their skill, like our own, develops over time. They all started somewhere, and chances are their first efforts were just as clumsy as any of ours would be.

Every day, ask yourself small questions. Figure out some way in which you can improve. Then format the answer as a Task or Goal and log it in your Bullet Journal. Each task completed is experience gained. Keep track of your progress. This way you’ll be more likely to actually take action.