Perfectionism is not a worthwhile goal. Balance is. Perfectionism deals in extremes where we tweak until nothing is left. Balance deals in shades of gray, the edges fuzzy, perhaps not so perfect, coming with the recognition that to know beauty we sometimes must know its opposite.
At times these days I have been caught trying to find my center. In the midst of a busy work life, I tend to forget that there are other aspects to my being besides making a living. The problem is I get so caught up in the circle of busyness that I lose my balance and fall. Exercise goes to the wayside, the garden goes to pot, my husband wonders if I notice him, and I am left wondering why I am such a wreck.
I am a wreck, of course, because I forgot to stop and go to the well, if you will, and take in the life that gives me so much. Such a journey involves self care, because sure enough without that I can’t really care for much else, whether it is my marriage, my job, my friends, and yes, the garden.
Today, in Merlin’s Garden, I came across a tiger lily, so beautiful in its bloom, its arms stretched out towards the sun. It was given to me by my friend, Hannah, from her garden. Seeing it reminded me that our real center exists in the quiet moments of beauty awakening in a flower, on a bench in the early morning hours as the garden awakes in gray mist, in the sound a chime makes in the wind, in the living gift shared by a friend from their own piece of earth. A monarch flies by and I sigh. It’s an “ah-so” kind of moment where the craziness of life gets fuzzy and I get quieter. It’s where I’m not perfect, just happy. I realize without falling, I can’t know what it means to get up, and without getting up, I can’t appreciate how blessed I am that I can.