🌑 Grieving Perfectionism
Hi friends
Thank you for reading these moonly musings. I share my experiences trusting that something will resonate. I appreciate you taking time to be here.
Last year, one of my teachers told me that I need to grieve perfectionism while committing to the continual perfecting of my being. 😭 Grieving perfectionism means releasing the idea that there is any right way for me to be. Many myriad things brought me to this imperfect moment (including the ancestral and collective). Thinking I should somehow be different than I currently am is a pattern of perfectionism. It calls for grieving because these patterns are very old and familiar (though no longer useful nor comfortable) and so they're hard to let go. Letting go of them, I am free simply to be me.
If you asked me who or what is perfect in this world, I would not be able to name one. single. solitary. thing. I know that perfect does not exist and that I am very far from perfect. Yet, part of me clings to the idea of perfection – I do not presume that I myself will ever become perfect, but I want to be connected to ideas (or ideologies) of perfection. Whether that’s the right way to communicate, eat, meditate, be a friend, be a citizen, or even think – I will do all the things to try and keep up with whatever I perceive is the best. I am often judging myself (and others) for how well I am adhering to whatever principles or practices I’ve adopted – whether that’s a morning routine, a political perspective, or a spiritual system. My need for formulas are attempts to seek safety, avoid uncertainty, and generally exert control. That makes sense given the incredible amount of dysfunction with which I grew up. Maybe perfect concepts would protect me from the chaos imperfect caregivers could not prevent – airtight arguments as an intellectual substitute for absent adults.
My specific distortions do not invalidate all the various philosophies and processes that support my being free (I love a good morning routine!). AND, I believe there really are systems and individuals that are problematic, out there. But, if freedom is not right here, it's nowhere. As usual (get used to me writing that), the immediate issue is my relationship to things (and people), not the things (or people) themselves.
Perfectionism underlies so much of the dominant culture and fuels systems of oppression. And perfectionism infiltrates and undermines so much in my life: spirituality, relationships, health, home, money, career, politics... My meditation practice, friendships, body, apartment, social media presence, bank account, civic engagement, THIS NEWSLETTER.. should look a certain way. “Look” is an important word here. The better-than/less-than/equal-to of comparing mind (which I wrote quite a bit about in You Belong) is inherent to my perfectionism — hierarchical ideas of how I should be are completely enmeshed with my concern (and, frankly, anxiety) about how I am perceived by those I admire. There’s often an in-group, in-the-know, cool-kids superiority underneath that anxiety. In this way, my perfectionism is constantly-critical and kin to self-righteousness.
Ugh.
An example: I’ve long noticed my judgement of wealth (see my Marxist roots below). This scrutiny involved inconsistent, subjective measurements – I would fault some for having “too much” money, but not others. I would worry that my relative wealth was perceived as excessive or lacking depending where and with whom I found myself. Of course the current, cruel level of economic inequality is unacceptable. Also, I believe that, as a phenomenon (i.e. Rihanna is not the problem), billionaires should not exist.* Yet my critiques of rich people were often based on some imagined notion of a perfect amount of wealth (and stuff) or a perfect relationship to money, all impossible to ascertain because they're not real.
*[And that link is old data – Elon Musk is now worth more than twice what Jeff Bezos is listed as here. Here’s a visual tool to help conceptualize the vast difference between millions and billions.]
My adherence to ideological perfectionism started very young. I grew up surrounded by people involved in armed revolutionary movements – actual guerrilla fighters. As an adolescent, even though I witnessed massive amounts of delusion and hypocrisy all around me, I was (vaguely) certain that Marxist Leninist doctrine was the best way to solve most of the world’s problems. I recently reconnected to my high school Peace Studies teacher. I thanked Hugh for taking time to speak with me about a paper I wrote for his class. We sat at the back of the room and he gave me some very kind, constructive feedback on the idealization of Marxism I put forward (basically parroted, naive notions of revolution).
That tender care was one of the first moments in a long, still continuing unraveling of the ways I can cling to modern or ancient theories and prescriptions (and proscriptions!) for how I (and everyone) should be – rather than opening to the complex and often messy reality of figuring it out on my own (and together). When I was the executive director of a meditation center, I placed next to my desk
a post-it note with an equation: SKILLFUL ≠ NOT MESSY. We were having conversations about race/racism, gender, and other alive issues in the community – conversations that evoked strong reactions of spiritual bypass. My note served as a reminder to recognize and question my conditioned and longstanding tendencies to confuse fear of mistakes, assimilation to group norms, and avoidance of conflict with some sort of spiritual skillfulness – and also to recognize and, if necessary, challenge these tendencies in others. I was not always successful, and I am absolutely certain I brought my perfectionist patterns to my efforts… but I tried.
For me, true spiritual skill is just that – me trying… living my very human, imperfect life while centering my deepest intentions: move through the world with clarity & kindness & courage, own up to both my patterns & my potential, seek truth, choose love & beauty & joy, honor all beings & the great mystery, cultivate faith in my unique purpose, do my best (which is not the same as the best).
Written out, I hope it's eloquent. Also, words may make it seem neat and easy. My life involves me and other human people, so nope on that. This process of recognizing and releasing perfectionism while practicing and perfecting being fully me – oof, it has been long, often uncomfortable, embarrassing, humbling, ongoing (!)… also, liberating.
Do I know how to do this perfectly? No. Am I sincere in my attempts to understand? Yes. Do I often feel like I don’t know what I’m doing? Indeed. Am I trying anyway? This imperfect newsletter is an example.
Sharing my own process feels like the least perfectionist way I can be of service. Here, documented for you to witness are proof of my imperfect life, patterns, understanding, writing, and, now… collages (there's is a LOT that I can say about perfectionism and creativity – also I am going to write a newsletter about Coming Out as Creative 😬).
Being vulnerable here is part of my process of releasing perfectionism. It means admitting over and over that I don't have it all figured out (sorry, not sorry). Nothing particularly perfect going on over here. Actually, it's pretty mundane. Geologist Marcia Bjornerud points out that geology is generally less lauded than astronomy – this imperfect planet compared to cosmic perfection. She says this: It is telling that mundane – meaning literally “of the earth” – is a pejorative. We are all, every single one of us, literally of the Earth – our imperfect perfect home.
I cannot be perfect. And I can be perfectly me.
With love,
Sebene
