Perfection
first published under lost and found (my monthly column) in Sun.Star Weekend Cebu on Aug. 21, 2004
Ever since, I’ve had one constant goal: to be perfect.
Sure, people say nobody’s perfect. But even as a child I didn’t believe that. I knew I couldn’t be perfectly good, or perfectly beautiful—I had enough people telling me I wasn’t. But I was certain I could be perfectly whole, complete in myself.
Self-sufficiency: perhaps the nearest word I can think of to approximate the vision of perfection in my head. More than independence, self-sufficiency is the state of not needing anyone outside of one’s self. Somehow I’ve always had the idea that I can learn and do anything I put my mind to. Only time keeps me from reading every book on every subject. In other words, perfection is being “jack of all trades, master of all”.
The only way I can’t accomplish something exactly as it SHOULD be done—excellent results using the least amount of time and resources—is if I don’t put in enough effort and discipline. This work ethic has me finishing various kinds of tasks in record time by myself. Too many cooks, after all, can spoil the broth.
Even with emotions, I don’t depend on friends for comfort. I’ve relied on sheer inner strength to get me through depression and stress. Why rely on imperfect people when I’m on my way to achieving self-perfection? One friend said she envied me for being self-actualizing—meaning I’m my own psychiatrist.
And although I know I’m not exempt from sin, I’ve prided myself on making sure I’m just and fair and honest. Surely by being that most of the time, I can’t do much harm to other people. And true enough, I’ve never had major enemies.
There’s just been one problem so far: I’ve been speaking for myself. No matter how well I plan my work schedule to the last detail, other people—who WILL do things their way—can mess things up really bad. Even nature asserts its own will. Justice hasn’t won me any lifelong friends. And worse, I realized in the past year I’m just no good at sports. Or business.
When the thought first hit me, I couldn’t take it. Could it be that my goal of perfection was impossible? It’s taking me a long while to accept that maybe I will NEVER be good at sports and business. I’m now resigned that I can only fix so much in my life. Things and dates falling into perfect place is ultimately God’s call more than mine or anyone else’s. Then it dawned on me that maybe efficiency and fairness aren’t such popular ways to live, after all. No matter how “right” I think my actions are for the greater good, people need compassion and thoughtfulness more. Even I do.
And the biggest paradox of all: perfection, in God’s and my friends’ eyes, is being humble enough to admit I’m flawed and weak, and that I need them to be whole. I do not HAVE to be self-sufficient. That’s why there are 4,999,999,999 other people on this Earth. There are things only I can do for them, and there are many things only they can do for me.
I still have an obsessive need to absorb as much knowledge as I can. My bookshelf—with titles ranging from oceanography, how to use Photoshop, conflict resolution, photography, grammar, Zen poetry—shows I still want to cram the world into my head. I still stay up till 3 a.m. compulsively revising a piece of writing or art. Most days, I’m still a self-centered brat.
But hey, I’m not perfect. I do what I can, having faith that my imperfections—and the world’s—will work themselves out in an endless, fascinating process of evolution. As I am, I am complete, an essential part of a perfectly created universe. Not MY ideal universe maybe, with its sudden twists and inconsistencies, but just right for the purposes of its creator. After all, the image of perfect love is Christ’s naked body on the cross—broken, blessed, beautiful.
Ever since, I’ve had one constant goal: to be perfect.
Sure, people say nobody’s perfect. But even as a child I didn’t believe that. I knew I couldn’t be perfectly good, or perfectly beautiful—I had enough people telling me I wasn’t. But I was certain I could be perfectly whole, complete in myself.
Self-sufficiency: perhaps the nearest word I can think of to approximate the vision of perfection in my head. More than independence, self-sufficiency is the state of not needing anyone outside of one’s self. Somehow I’ve always had the idea that I can learn and do anything I put my mind to. Only time keeps me from reading every book on every subject. In other words, perfection is being “jack of all trades, master of all”.
The only way I can’t accomplish something exactly as it SHOULD be done—excellent results using the least amount of time and resources—is if I don’t put in enough effort and discipline. This work ethic has me finishing various kinds of tasks in record time by myself. Too many cooks, after all, can spoil the broth.
Even with emotions, I don’t depend on friends for comfort. I’ve relied on sheer inner strength to get me through depression and stress. Why rely on imperfect people when I’m on my way to achieving self-perfection? One friend said she envied me for being self-actualizing—meaning I’m my own psychiatrist.
And although I know I’m not exempt from sin, I’ve prided myself on making sure I’m just and fair and honest. Surely by being that most of the time, I can’t do much harm to other people. And true enough, I’ve never had major enemies.
There’s just been one problem so far: I’ve been speaking for myself. No matter how well I plan my work schedule to the last detail, other people—who WILL do things their way—can mess things up really bad. Even nature asserts its own will. Justice hasn’t won me any lifelong friends. And worse, I realized in the past year I’m just no good at sports. Or business.
When the thought first hit me, I couldn’t take it. Could it be that my goal of perfection was impossible? It’s taking me a long while to accept that maybe I will NEVER be good at sports and business. I’m now resigned that I can only fix so much in my life. Things and dates falling into perfect place is ultimately God’s call more than mine or anyone else’s. Then it dawned on me that maybe efficiency and fairness aren’t such popular ways to live, after all. No matter how “right” I think my actions are for the greater good, people need compassion and thoughtfulness more. Even I do.
And the biggest paradox of all: perfection, in God’s and my friends’ eyes, is being humble enough to admit I’m flawed and weak, and that I need them to be whole. I do not HAVE to be self-sufficient. That’s why there are 4,999,999,999 other people on this Earth. There are things only I can do for them, and there are many things only they can do for me.
I still have an obsessive need to absorb as much knowledge as I can. My bookshelf—with titles ranging from oceanography, how to use Photoshop, conflict resolution, photography, grammar, Zen poetry—shows I still want to cram the world into my head. I still stay up till 3 a.m. compulsively revising a piece of writing or art. Most days, I’m still a self-centered brat.
But hey, I’m not perfect. I do what I can, having faith that my imperfections—and the world’s—will work themselves out in an endless, fascinating process of evolution. As I am, I am complete, an essential part of a perfectly created universe. Not MY ideal universe maybe, with its sudden twists and inconsistencies, but just right for the purposes of its creator. After all, the image of perfect love is Christ’s naked body on the cross—broken, blessed, beautiful.
Jeneen, in my former life as a philosophy techer in Ateneo, this is an A-with-a-big-smile piece of reflection! ...reminds me of Ricoeur's Freedom and Nature.. and that day when I got emotional about human finitude... and transcendence! :) Totally nostalgic, and well written, and most of all, I somehow relate to it. Keep writing!
ReplyDeleteA l l e l u ja! Thank you very much, I am, and surely the world is, happier because of this.
ReplyDelete