I was walking in the park this morning. Past the hundreds of thousands of millions of leaves, all applauding each other in the wind.
Which one of them isn’t perfect?
Which leaf hasn’t “lived up to its potential”?
Which has “fallen short”?
They seem like slightly ridiculous questions. (And yet, are there times that you ask them of yourself?)
In light of all of these leaves, the idea of “perfection” seems suddenly a bit lifeless and arbitrary next to the endless, vibrant variations dripping from the boughs.
Take this particular leaf, in the photo above, that I picked up off the path where it had fallen in front of me.
Not really “perfect” by any conventional measure. It’s not symmetrical, there’s bits that are brittle and brown. And even the odd hole in it.
But if you look closer…
And closer still…
…it starts to become its very own artwork. Unpredictably beautiful. Offering so much more than perhaps “perfection” ever could.
So what can you take from all of this?
Are there any questions you’d like to put to your “inner therapist” about it all?
Maybe something like:
Which parts of you want to stop having to live up to some arbitrary ideal you insist on moulding yourself to?
Which parts of you are tired of having a standard laid down for them which is unrealistic (and possibly someone else’s standard anyway) and might never be reached?
And which parts might you start to see a kind of artistry in instead of “failure” or “imperfection”?
Where you might be able to appreciate the unpredictable nuances of life, growing and showing its unique patterns in you…