Perfect is the Enemy of Good

"Perfect is the enemy of good," they say. So, in order that my inclination to perfectionism doesn't prevent me from attempting the everyday-awesome tasks that are set before me, I close my eyes and ears to the obvious lack of flair, the 'ordinary-ness' of the attempts and press ahead - despite the gnawing feeling of under-performance that often accompanies them. That's how it is with me and my writing.

For as long as I can remember, I have loved putting pen to paper (these days, key-board to paper....or whatever it is..) and writing my feelings down. I have loved out-maneuvering and out-arguing my opponents..... on paper....yep, here's where I have won most of my battles. It's been my weapon (maybe unfortunately, I don't know), it's been my hiding place, my happy place, my sounding board, the dumping place for my thoughts, the place of my deepest revelations, where I lay bare my soul...through the mirror of thoughts....where I get in touch with the parts of me that were before then, to me, a stranger.

My most valuable childhood memory is (unbelievably...boringly) that of an article that I wrote which was published in a magazine for children. I was seven years old and proud! The memory hasn't left, though many others have. I know, then, that I am supposed to do something with this...this talent?...this interest, this passion, even. But what do you do when there is a constant call to perfectionism? When something inside you tells you that your efforts are not good enough? When you look around you and there are so many other seemingly superior players in the field? Do you walk away? Do you call it quits? Do you accept that your efforts are not good enough? Do you wait til you've mastered your craft? Or do you do it anyway?

Luckily for me, my love affair with writing pushes me ahead.....in spite of. I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. It's true, this need for perfection could probably cause me to keep my thoughts locked in the sometimes-dark closet of my mind, but luckily a 'higher purpose' makes me want to do more than pander to my ego. And so, whether I have the requisite flair, or whether I lack content, and whether I am able to hold the interest of the 'deeply intellectual,' I do it anyway. I seek not to be perfect.  I seek, instead, to satisfy my calling to inspire and equip. I remind myself that perfect is indeed the enemy of good and I do it anyway.