Longing For Perfect


Life is improv. Life is in perpetual beta. I hoped to get this picture perfect, but the burn barrel got between my son and the sky and his sillouette isn’t placed exactly where I wanted it. Oh well. I can obsess or I can let it go.
Or can I? I will always try to make it better. I will always try to get a taste of perfect, of what I meant to capture, meant to say, or to write.
As I was walking to catch the streetcar this morning I thought about my 8 Creative Types, and concluded that they should really be ‘Modes’. I’m currently stuck in Dreamer mode, and need to shift to Producer mode now. Sometimes, especially when I’m just falling asleep, I slip into Crazy mode and get wild, disconnected ideas. Other times I attempt to practice a sound or a melody and shift into Mimic mode.
So when are we finished? When we are dead is my answer. That’s when the improv curtain drops. Until then, it’s all up for grabs. Every moment, every single moment, is an opportunity to try to do something as amazing as you can muster.
When I lived in BC, I loved looking at the mountains. I promised myself that I wouldn’t take them for granted. And every day when I left my apartment I would see the mountains and remember my vow. “I love looking at you,” I would say, quietly (because it would seem a bit odd to a stranger walking by). Even when it rained, even when thick rolls of fog lay over my view, I would think of those mountains. I would take a deep breath, as if I could contain their essence, and exhale a certain sense of contentment. I try to do the same things now with my kids. I try not to forget to kiss them goodnight. Or to give them hugs. Or to not get too annoyed at their perpetual requests for water after bedtime… they are finite moments, but if I can appreciate them daily, if I can make them a part of me, then I can extend the feeling longer.
I long for perfection. For a moment of perfect, blissful creation. But I’ll keep showing you the in-between stuff too. Perhaps this is what drives me.

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