It seems we humans have a fascination with Perfection. We relish the thought of it. The perfect season. The perfect ride. The perfect day. The perfect wedding. The model body. Occasionally, we see glimpses of perfection in this life. But even perfection isn't perfect. Tom Brady didn't complete 100% of his passes that night. The opponent was not shut out. But, still we cling desperately for that which we can call perfect. It is an obsession.
It seems a part of our human condition to want to be perfect. And yet, it is also part of our condition that we are absolutely unable to do so. I guess that's part of the tragedy and beauty of being human. It's tragic that life cannot meet with our definitions of perfection. But, there is also beauty in the imperfect. A scar in an otherwise perfect face, an old piece of furniture with a crackling patina, smoke in the atmosphere turning a sunset crimson.
So, though I yearn for perfection, I'm learning to treasure contentment. I can be content with the floorboard that creaks, the little lines forming around my neck, and the general restlessness in my mind. I believe some day I will understand true Perfection, but not for now. Not here in this place. But, for now I choose to be content - content with the imperfect season, frustrating days, clumsy rides. All those imperfect things combine to make a life that is beautiful and rich beyond measure. And, I am thankful for it.
That is what I hope for this year. Not that I will give up striving for perfection or slip into complacency. But, that I will celebrate and be content with all that is good in my life and the world around me.