Perfect – having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics.
Imperfect – Incomplete or unfinished, and flawed.
Everything is perfectly imperfect. We are ALL perfectly imperfect. We are perfect in the scene that we are absolutely fine the way we are, we are beautiful. So if we are so awesome the way we are why would we strive to be something else when there’s no goal to be reached to become the ‘perfect human’, in anyway, looks, personality, success or knowledge or all combined, there’s no goal to be attained that once we get there we will be complete. We are enough and we have enough right now in this present moment.
We are imperfect in the sense that we are flawed, we have made mistakes and will continue to make mistakes in life, and that’s okay because after every ‘mistake’ we make we learn and therefore we grow. We are incomplete because of this, because there is always room for growth and knowledge.
Physically speaking, people can get caught up in changing the way they look. To try and be perfect, to achieve this idealistic identity. I could ask you to think of someone, someone you know or know of that is in your eyes ‘perfect’ but you see there is no one, not really or truly. You could find someone that is the best person you know, some one with perfect imperfections to you but they could always improve. And isn’t that a good thing. Isn’t perfect just boring. I say Embrace your freckles or cute little lips, embrace your crazy wild hair and your body shape, it’s what makes you you.
We are much like snowflakes, i’m sure you know no snowflake is identical to another, but they are all beautiful in there own way and in there difference.
We can see this in nature too, the mountains, the trees, the flowers. Imagine if one person decided that a particular tree was ‘perfect’ and demanded all other tree’s either become like this one tree or be torn down, wouldn’t that just be boring a world with one type of tree or a world where all mountains looked the same. someone can believe that this one thing or this one person is the most perfect thing in the world but someone else could believe it not to be, and that’s okay, it’s actually a good thing.
I love painting, and with that there is always ‘mistakes’ to be made, a ‘wrong’ colour used or an accidental splotch of paint here and there, maybe even a completely different outcome from what i had in mind, but i love it. No matter how different it turns out or strange or ‘bad’ it is, i love it because it’s perfectly imperfect, and if only we could apply this to our life and our selves then we would all be perfectly fine with being perfectly imperfect.