The Problem with Perfection

There are few things that will set me off into a rage. But call me “dude” or say “I’m a perfectionist” and watch the vein pop out on the side of my head.

I’ve reflected as to why I go ballistic. At first I thought that some surfer dude from my past had stolen a girlfriend away and that I still have latent issues of rejection and betrayal washing around in my heart. But I’ve lived in landlocked Johannesburg since I was six, so that’s hardly likely. I think the real problem for me is that dudeism and perfection reflect the polar opposites of my life.

There are days when I’m like a hippie or God forbid, a sun stroked surfer, “Hey dude, just chill, there’s nothing that you can do about it, it will come right in the end, there’s a reason for everything, it’s all about the wave, hand me the bong.” Basically, Jacques at his most slapgat. A state that I’m in more often than I care to admit.

Then there are other days when “I’m a perfectionist” and I’m wound up tighter than a Stepford wife. Now I have friends that sit in both these camps and they drive me to distraction. Only, of course because they are reflecting my polar opposites – as Carl Jung so rightly said, “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.”

I know it’s stupid, but I worry more about my “perfect” friends than my “dude” friends. I worry that because they’re so tightly wired, something has to snap, if it hasn’t already. Best case scenario is that they secretly love watching ice skating and ballet. Worst case scenario is that they’re serial killers. I always try and get them to use my name so that they don’t objectify me and I end up in their basement looking down at the wrong end of a carving knife.

Ok, foreplay’s over. Let’s cut to the chase. Perfectionism is the biggest copout on the planet. It stops us from starting things and lets us quit halfway into things. Perfectionism is an ideal reason for those of us afraid to start something and for those of us that don’t have the stamina to finish something.

Imagine if Leonardo da Vinci, said “Ah, bugger it, I can’t get this art, engineering, inventing, medicine stuff perfect first shot. Let me just leave it and go and work in the family accounting practice.” What would we have lost? What if Thomas Edison had said, “If I don’t crack this lightbulb thing in one go, I’m going to stock up with candles.” Or, “Wilbur, this thing doesn’t fly.” “I told you Orville, If God wanted us to fly he would have given us wings. Come on momma’s made a terrific peach pie, let’s go and get us some. That’s more fun.”

There’s a notion that perfectionism is our creator’s domain and not ours. Carpet makers of old had an enchanting quirk (and, I’m sure modern day carpet makers still have it). They’d deliberately put a flaw into the carpet because they believed only God was perfect, not man. In the day, if an archer could get 50 bullseyes, he’d only shoot 49 for the same reason. This notion will probably not work so well in modern day Olympic archery contests methinks.

Indulge me (and don’t burn me at the stake) if I give an alternative view to our creator’s so-called perfectionism. I do have panic attacks involving burning and drowning. So, I think I’ve probably shot my mouth off in many other lives too. Oh well, I just hope I don’t come back as a snail next time.

There’s absolutely no doubt that the most perfect object ever created is this planet we call home. There’s also no doubt that there are many (if not gazillions) of failed planets in the great yonder. Is it inconceivable that our creator was a planet builder? And, if so, aren’t you glad that he wasn’t a perfectionist and gave up on his first attempt?

Aren’t you glad that he also allowed the first microscopic slither of life onto the planet so that you get to play here? How many frustrations, extinctions and failed experiments do you think it took to create you and me so that we could become the point of this entire existence?

And, don’t you think he would have been absolutely delighted at his human creation? Utter perfection. In fact, I believe he was so delighted that he gave us his ultimate gift which turned out to be our ultimate flaw: choice.

According to the stories we’ve been told, paradise was lost when we decided to chomp down on the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.

As you now know, since then we’ve royally stuffed it up. We’ve become mass murderers, rapers of this planet and all-round arseholes. So much so, that our creator must have scratched his head in bewilderment and given Oscar Wilde the following pithy line, “No good deed goes unpunished.” He must have thought, “Give them choice. What the heck was I thinking?”

And, of course, he’s now trying to fix it. He has sent his messengers to get us back onto the path … Perfectionism? Awe and Gratitude? Enchantment? … I dunno? Amongst others, Abraham, Noah, Moses, Jesus and Muhammed have tried to sort our mess out. Based on the unspeakable mischief we get up to every day, I’m not so sure they’ve had the desired impact. I think we may be hanging on by a tenuous thread.

My hope is that our creator doesn’t quit on us just because we’re more dude than perfect. I hope that he’s happy with the middle road of “imperfect, but trying my damnedest to get back onto the path”. I hope he doesn’t see us as a failed experiment and move on and build another “perfect planet” and leave us to our own devices. I think that separation from our source will be too much for any of us to take. For me, I’m just glad he’s not perfect otherwise there’s no doubt he would have given up on us a long time ago.