Sunday, January 1, 2012


  I can tell you what is NOT perfect -- you, your spouse, your child. Your home, your career, your parents. Your hairstyle, your weight, your choice of words... your philosophy of life, your political representatives, and your lawn.
  Perfection is what occurs at the intersection of recognition and appreciation. It does not exist on its own in a vacuum. It needs someone to both recognize what this moment is, and appreciate it, to be perfect.
  Here are some things that ARE perfect. An egg. The summer sun sparkling on cool blue waves. That warm glow of the afternoon sun that sends long cool shadows across my emerald green lawn. The scent of lilacs wafting through an open window in the spring. A steaming bowl of savory chicken soup on a cold winter's day. Laying in bed on a Sunday morning after making love and have nothing to do besides read the Sunday paper cover to cover and drink coffee. A fragrant pile of clean, fluffy towels, warm from the dryer. The silky feel of sand on your beach-hungry toes as you make your way over the dunes on the first day at the beach. The look in your lover's eyes.
   The feel of a hug from your Mom. The first shower after being bedridden for a week with a feverish flu. The phone rings, and it's for you... you get the job!.. a date to the prom!... the positive pregnancy test!  
  Perfection is the feeling that if only right this moment, THIS SHINING MOMENT,  life would simply stand still. But it doesn't. Ever. The shadows on the lawn get longer, and the very light that caused them now shows the dust on the living room floor. The chicken soup is savored, and then there is the pot that needs washing.
  Your love looks at you for awhile, and then the moment shifts-- could you make him a cup of coffee, and while you're at it, could you run a load of laundry? He's short clean socks.
  Your garden, flush with glorious blossoms open and blooming, will start to get leggy and buggy, and will wilt in the noonday sun, and the job you won so victoriously will begin to bug you, too.
  Perfection is not a goal, not a result, not a cause, and not a cure.
  It will light on your shoulder randomly, like a butterfly.
  Your sole job is to pay attention, appreciate the moment, and watch it fly away.