I have a habit of writing in a journal each morning. I have accumulated stacks of large binders filled with words. Every couple of months, after I have exhausted all the sheets in one binder, I am excited to pick up a brand new spiral-bound notebook with its crisp new pages. Each time, the perfectionist in me wants to make a vow to write perfectly in this new book. To be ever so diligent in not making one mistake. To start from page one, writing perfectly, never missing a day, and, of course, with immaculate handwriting.
The sage in me knows better. She knows how long the road is. She knows there will be twists and turns. She knows that even with the best of intentions, days will be missed, and that lovely penmanship will turn into hurried scribbles. She knows that perfection is an illusion we create to hold ourselves to a standard that we can never achieve. That we are only human, and that willpower is fleeting.
The sage in me knows that by releasing perfection from her life she is free to create habits. Good habits that will carry her through those times when willpower wanes.
So, this morning, I ignore the new book with its crisp white pages, and I scribble my thoughts no matter how scattered they are. I wince at my atrocious handwriting and I continue. I write until my hand aches and my pen runs out of ink. My perfectionist blanches as I start anew with a different color pen. My sage whispers, it’s okay, just keep going.
I strive each day to deny the perfectionist within me so that I may move past her whining, idiotic sentiments about how things should be done. Without her, I can move closer to my dreams. And I watch for my dream like a star that blinks against an inky black sky. It twinkles and it beckons to me.
I listen, instead, for the sage. She reminds me that there is a dream that is meant just for me. No matter the years that pass. I continue my journey, writing and following and learning and hoping and becoming and living. Some days are hard and some days are even harder. And, some days I just want to quit.
Instead, I get up early and put pen to paper. I brew coffee and I renew the commitment I made to myself. I stop counting the mistakes I have made. I stop blaming myself for being beyond tardy in my blog posts. I remind myself that perfection would love to freeze me in my tracks. I look to the sage and I do the only thing that I can do. I write.
