For years, I’ve courted the belief, “if only I had XYZ” or “if only he/she/they would act differently” (which usually meant act the way I wanted them to act), then I could relax. Then I can really be happy.
It’s an easy trap to think that we can’t really enjoy our lives until (fill in the blank—kids are better behaved, bank account has more zeros behind it, pants fit looser, blah blah blah). In a way, it’s a longing for perfection, which actually only drags us into a catfight with reality.
Intellectually, we know that nothing is perfect. And when we seek it, it sadly sacrifices the most precious thing we have— the present moment. It’s like we ransom the present moment for some ideal one in the future, which may or may not even occur.
In those situations when frustration with reality comes up, I find more freedom when I remember to say, “XYZ is not perfect. I’m not perfect. Maybe I’m not relating to the situation perfectly. And this too is blessed.” It’s a struggle to remember to do this because the pull to get preoccupied with whatever isn’t perfect is quite strong. But those times when I remember to do this, life is lighter. It’s a release from the straightjacket of perfection.
Could it be that the degree to which we embrace imperfection in our lives is the degree to which we will feel love and joy?