I took a walk to the beach a few days ago with the puppies. No dogs are allowed on the beach so I usually go to the bench close to the water so that I can hear and see the water. I often meet a new friend or two while I’m sitting there because people like to stop and say hi to the dogs. This day a grandma and her little grand daughter happened to stop and chat for a while. We had a lot in common: she had a little elephant and you know how I love elephants, her name was Kiera, the name of one of my pups, and she loved the water. Kiera was collecting sea shells, a fine activity at any age and I was enjoying her conversation with her grandma about which ones to keep and which to leave behind. Kiera had picked one up that was a little broken, some of the pieces were missing and it was definitely not in perfect shape. Grandma suggested she leave it behind because it wasn’t “pretty.” This lovely little girl looked at her grandma with the biggest eyes, a little teary, and said “no grandma this one IS perfect, I want to keep it.” No amount of persusaion would change her mind and eventually she left with just that one broken sea shell: it was her most prized posession.
You know what I wondered as I watched and listened? When did you learn that perfect is the only thing that’s good enough? When did we accept this as the truth? What was it that caused us to give up the fight for our own truth and say “ok I accept that I must be wrong and perfect is the only thing worth striving for?” What allowed that to happen and why did that happen?
I’m turning 55 in a few weeks and there are many people who would agree, starting with me, that I’m not perfect. My husband would tell you that I snore, it’s true I do, and that I can be challenging to converse with at times, he’s right I am. My sisters would tell you that I might be a little challenging to be around at times, they’re right I am. My friends might tell you that I’m not really athletic: they’re right I’m not…and I don’t care, truly and really, because here’s what they’ll also tell you. I’m kind, I’m compassionate, I’m generous, I’m a good person, I speak my truth, I wish kindness to all people….So, I’m not perfect but I truly believe I am a goddess in my own right! Yup I really do and I’m so happy I can say that: I’m so grateful to all who have come before me, who have taught me, who continue to teach me…I’m not bragging, I’m not boasting, I am accepting my position, and it’s your’s for the taking as well, in this glorious world and living up to it. I’m that broken sea shell, beautiful to one whose eyes still see beauty in things that are not perfect. You too are that broken sea shell, a little rough around the edges from the things life has thrown at you, a little wiser, a little smoother perhaps from all the years you’ve put in….Do you accept that to be true or do you accept that,unless I’m perfect, I’m just not good enough?
What will it take for us to accept that we are perfectly perfect in all our mess, in all our cracks and flaws just like that sea shell Kiera took home with her that day?
Living la vida fearless, Jan
