The above picture was a happy little perfect accident I made along the path of my life. There is no photoshop work here. I only changed it to black and white. And to me, it is perfect…just the way it is.

We live in a world where we strive for perfection. We have sorted piles of “the good enoughs” and “the not enoughs.” And we are measured against mysterious and ever changing standards – like a slide rule where the numbers keep changing.

I always believed that perfection was the goal of Life. I thought my world would feel better on the mysterious other side of wherever I thought I wasn in the first place – only to be rewarded with a gleaming, golden and beautiful life – like a pot of gold at the end of a perfect rainbow. This was only solidified because this was what I saw from my armchair view of those surrounding me: lives that were well-lived and happy people with satisfaction surrounding them like a warm blanket on a cool evening.

So I searched and I looked. High and low. Under rocks. In dark alleyways and brightly lit fields. I took shortcuts and went through back doors to get to those places where I thought others had found the paragon of life. But nowhere along this path did I see my life for what it was at the time.

Perfection isn’t about finding something you can frame and put on a wall for everyone to ooh and ahh over. It’s not about what things you possess or the perceived joy you are feeling by others. I think that perfection is about the journey it took to get there and the hard work you endure during the process. It is in the mistakes you make along the way and see for the happily perfect little accidents they are. It is in the love that surrounds you on the crooked, overgrown and untended paths or perfectly paved highways. Perfection, for me, is about realizing that you are in just the place you are meant to be at this very moment.

What a perfectly peaceful feeling.

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