Perfection

Posted on March 10, 2004 in Attitudes Crosstalk Mania

Crazy Tracy wrote a beautiful piece about eavesdropping on some of her patients. She culminates with these words of a patient who was pacing the hall muttering to herself:

“We all want something better. We all want something more. We’re never satisfied. We’re never content. Maybe that’s what perfect is. Maybe perfect is always wanting more. Maybe perfection is never being satisfied with what we have. Maybe it is trying harder and working harder to get more and more and more. Maybe that’s why we never achieve perfection. Maybe the meaning of perfection is not being perfect, but striving to be.”

And there ya go. Proof that we’re all perfect.

I’m caught for a second by these words, as Tracy was with her pen in hand, taking down notes about the world. And then I detect a pitfall: if perfection is dissatisfaction, where does happiness come in?

I think of my mother obsessing about the details, obsessing about a bit of lint on the shoulder of my blue suit, obsessing about her blood pressure which is a few points above normal, obsessing about my 95 year old aunt crippling herself because she wants to use a walker. I don’t think Tracy would call this healthy, but the words she cites sound like my mother. This always striving, this never resting, this flagellation of one’s serenity — I find it hard to produce anything under such circumstances except stiffness and pain in the muscles, in the soul.