It’s been somewhat surprising to me that as I’ve sat down over the last week to write publicly for the first time ever, the subject matter that seems to be at the front of my brain is around relationships – and specifically my relationship with Ashley. I was in the kitchen thinking about my post for the day and thought that perhaps I needed to write a post that’s something in the vein of “My Relationship Isn’t Perfect”, which obviously I would have come up with a more creative title for 🙂 I was thinking that for two posts in a row I was talking about Ashley and my relationship as if it was perfect. There were two rationales for the post – the first was that I didn’t want someone to feel bad about the idea that they might not have the perfect relationship, and the other was that there is a generally accepted idea that’s been pound into our heads that “nothing is perfect”. The first idea, that I might make people feel bad, didn’t linger long – after all, I can’t be scared to discuss my successes in fear that it will somehow [sorry, I had to pause, the most interesting thing was happening out of my window – the buildings had this backdrop of thick clouds, but there were clear skies that were reflecting in the windows’ of the buildings. Photo at top of page.] make someone feel lesser. The second idea, however, blossomed into a really interesting inner dialogue. Here’s more or less where the inner dialogue ended: “Perfection is impossible” – the world. “FUCK THAT” – me. It took me a while to get there, but let me explain why the acceptance of the idea is actually destructive.

Perfection [noun] – the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects. 

Still with me? Let’s jump to something that I subjectively believe is perfect – the first thing that comes to mind is the work of Van Gogh (if you’re an art lover and haven’t read Lust For Life, get it!). If you look at Van Gogh’s subject matter, his brush strokes, his work in general – because his style is impressionistic and therefore, one might argue, not without “flaws and defects” that you might want to label as “imperfect”. And at this exact moment is where you/I/we fucked up. We have given up on the idea of perfection because we were too lazy to go beyond our initial perception – that, in Van Gogh’s case, most of the choices he made that are initially perceived as imperfect, are actually “unexpected” – and the collection of those unexpected choices, along with the other components of his work and the time in which it was created, are what make the work perfect (to me).

So back to Ashley and I. We have situations and moments that, if we’re shortsighted, we label as imperfect. But those moments are actually brush-strokes that add texture to who we are. Perhaps that’s too poetic, but the reality is that we learn so much from the conversations and reflection that surround those moments – about ourselves, about each other, about the world. To label anything you cherish as imperfect is a mistake, and here’s why: if you allow yourself to experience something as “perfect” – whether that’s a moment, a sunset, a relationship, food, a piece of art, whatever – then you have experienced pure joy.

Allow yourself to view things as perfect and to experience perfection. Mentally detach from the idea that nothing is perfect. My life is perfect because I choose to see it that way. My relationship with Ashley is perfect because I choose to see it that way. It’s not a glass is half full or half empty situation – the glass is all the way full.

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