It rained a few days ago here in Los Angeles. I let the skies clear a
little and then decided to go on a hike to manage “the bad roommate in my head”
as Anne Lamott would call her. This voice, this pernicious, nasty voice, was
giving me the business regarding all my flaws. According to her, there are
many. On this day, she was in rare form pointing out how it seems next to
impossible for me to keep my house clean, prevent typos in my work, go to
enough yoga classes etc…all these really important things. Sigh. As I climbed
up Fryman Canyon, I was giving this voice too much airtime, and, wouldn’t you
know it, but another voice squeezed in there. It said, “Laur, did you ever
consider that the voice that insists on perfection in every aspect of your life
is a dull bit**? Just be a mess sometimes. Who really cares?” Yes! Yes, I
thought. Now that is some sanity. AND THEN I TRIPPED AND FELL FLAT ON MY FACE IN A
WET PUDDLE OF MUD AND HAD TO FINISH MY HIKE LOOKING DASTARDLY. That is exactly
what happened. And, you know what? Aside from a few people looking at me funny,
nothing else happened. I was muddy. Yep. Muddy. Like all life is until it
bursts forth from the soil and moves toward the sun.
Here’s a great reminder about the dangers of perfectionism from the
ever-wise Anne Lamott:
“Perfectionism
is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you
cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and
a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief
that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you
won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of
people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better
than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.”
