I have become a fan of imperfection.
Not too much, mind you. But I have discovered that a couple of flaws here or there is preferable to the elusive ideal of exquisite perfection.
I discovered this paradox when we moved to our current house, which is older and smaller than other houses we have had in the past 20 years. The inconveniences became immediately apparent: There is no air conditioning on the main floor and we sometimes need fans in the summer. The living room is cold in the winter. My shower sprays water like a bad radiator hose. Our closet is small, and the door is so narrow you have to walk just right to get through with a laundry basket. There is no fan in the downstairs bathroom. There's not enough cupboard space anywhere. The refrigerator is small. There is a cellar that is accessed from outside the house. And the list goes on.
Day One I started noticing these things, but for some strange reason never really considered them as negatives. They instantly became part of the charm of the house, and I have mostly gotten used to them. But more importantly, I have grown comfortable with the realization the that the house is never going to be perfect. So I'm more relaxed. I don't feel the urge to pick up stuff all the time. I'm OK leaving my laptop on the counter, or a book lying near the fireplace. The old couch and the frayed rugs don't bother me as much in their new context. And I don't feel guilty about the little things that would be quickly attended to by someone more conscientous than myself.
Here's an example--our yard has several different kinds of grass (one of them is "crab"), a couple of bare spots around the edges, and the occasional mushroom patch in wet shady parts. It's the perfect yard to play in, and when Sam and his friends etch home plate into the lawn it's not such a big deal.
I think this is a good strategy for relationships, and probably for self-analysis as well. None of us is perfect, and the sooner we get used to that the happier we will be with our spouses, our children, our family, friends and co-workers, and ourselves.
I like our house. And I appreciate its charming imperfections. In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way. Except maybe the bathroom fan.
The interesting thing about this is that we all seem to look forward to an existence of perfection in the next life. This may not be true for all of us, but I think when the average LDS envisions heaven, he/she pictures a place with perfect society, perfect buildings (no dust or cobwebs), and, largely, perfect people. Otherwise, how much better could it be?
ReplyDeleteWhen I think about this rationally, it seems that perfection must be a long ways out, even if progression becomes more rapid post mortality. But isn't perfection what we're looking forward to?
I suppose we'll be more comfortable in the society of practically perfect beings and a perfect environ when we, too, are closer to the ideal.
This is a good thought stream.
ReplyDeleteI've always wondered if the Godhead are perfect -- then are they the Same? and if not, how so?
My current conclusion is that we have the same attributes ( love, hope, etc..) but something else provides our "personalities" -- I think its actually a beautiful metaphor for God and how he has created an almost limitless amount of diversity on planet earth..and its foreshadowing of what is to come.
then there is the concept that, we used to be people thing too you have to think about.. (life is but a forgetting) and when we die we "remember" who we really were...
So... noone knows what perfection is to begin with.
John Lund has a talk tape at Deseret book about the Myth of Perfection that goes into the philosophical history of how perfection began permeating our culture. I actually provide "Myth of Perfection" scholarships to people, if anyone is interested
david dot jarvi at gmail dot com