I screw up on a daily basis.
And it is OK by me.
I love the joy of imperfection.
Yesterday while I gardened in my little patch of Weedy Wonder – I was pulling weeds in a mad frenzy and feeling very productive.
Like a real gardener. Like famed British gardeners Monty Don or Vita Sackville-West.
What I didn’t realize is that I had accidentally pulled up an entire section of plants I had seeded a month before.
Not that I knew it at the time. (They just looked like weeds to me as they hadn’t bloomed yet. That’s my excuse. They were like teen-ager plants.)
It was an hour or so later when I was having coffee on the deck and admiring my work.
I was dirty. Sweaty. Satisfied. I looked at my little notebook that has my scrawled garden map and there it was.
In the far corner, the very corner I had just spent an hour in, I had pulled every last bit of :
CONE FLOWERS. And a bunch of other plants too.
And then I laughed.
Because there you go.
I’m perfectly imperfect.
I’m truly OK with that.
Part of what makes our complicated lives so – well – complicated is the notion of:
Cross your t’s and dot your i’s.
Hang pictures perfectly.
Never swear. (Oops!)
Do not take risks.
Do not draw attention to yourself.
Do not make mistakes.
Do what everyone else does.
What will people think?
And yet I don’t think people love or like me because I’m perfect.
(I’m definitely not that!)
No one is.
And if you’re honest (and I’m honest AND ridiculous by the way), what we really like in people are the quirks.
Vulnerability. Your inner weirdo/nerd.
I’m pretty sure that’s what I would like about you.
Imperfection is all about realizing something is good enough. That you can make a mistake. That someone else may not approve. (Too bad for them!)
Which all totally fit into my inner-wild-child side.
Imperfect people have better & simpler lives than so-called “Perfect People.”
Because imperfect people jump in and live life. We do stuff. We attempt new things.
We live widely. We don’t stress as much about sh*t.
“Perfect people” procrastinate. Watch from the sidelines. Wait for all the ducks to line up. Linger until someone else takes the lead.
Or for someone to make conditions perfect for them. (They also tend to be a little judge-y of
our crazy endeavors.)
Which one would you rather be?
Now. Back to my garden.
What other plants can I pull up? Strawberries? Sunflowers? A tree?