I have never been much of a believer in perfection. Maybe it is partially that I struggle to define it. Maybe I'm just kind of pessimistic. Or maybe this is merely an extension of my disbelief in absolutes. Regardless, I've had trouble believing in something that entails flawlessness.
Although, recently I've thought that maybe my definition, itself, could be flawed. I mean, or maybe it's not flawed--our definitions of things are consistently changing with new experiences. Or maybe it was flawed, and I'm working towards a perfect definition of it. That doesn't really exist, though, does it? Crap.
Anyway, I laid on the beach the other night, staring up at the stars. I couldn't help but think the night was perfect. The temperate air seemed to rush through my body, the cool sand comforted my aching feet, and the abrasive sand exfoliated my hands and face. The company was right, the setting comfortable, and the stars flawless.
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That's it. Maybe stars could be an example of something perfect, but not because they are without flaw. Flawlessness doesn't make them perfect; rather, I think it might be the sense of balance that a starry sky provides. There is no repetitive pattern or counted-upon measure in which the stars are arranged. They just are the way they are, but we don't seem to notice the gaps in between them or the higher concentration of some in various areas. Instead, we notice their beauty, we relish in their complexity, and ponder their infinite nature.
I now think we can achieve a sense of perfection through bala
nce--a balance of flaw and strength. Perhaps through less emphasis on the gaps, more emphasis on beauty and strength, more time discovering our own complexity, and a greater commitment to pondering the infinite nature of what we can offer the world, we can reach perfection, or at least something like it.
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