A lot of labeling & a little letting go of the pursuit of Perfection
Better Performance vs. Best Performance…
Saturday, February 6, 2021
I have always had this flaw: perfectionism. Maybe a person might say that it is good to strive for perfection. I recall hearing the expression, “practice makes perfect” a lot when I was younger. My motto today is: “practice makes progress.” This idea of perfection is dangerous, unhealthy, and a lie. Just look at our country: America. For so long, people have forwarded this perception of America as the greatest country in the world, a bastion of freedom and democracy. And yes, the phrase is, “in order to form a more perfect union” but what does that even mean: “more perfect”? What the heck is that ?! But I digress.
I have spent the day almost hyper-organizing the digitized slides I separated by chapter. The upside is that it is giving me even more time with Lenny’s artwork and I really appreciate some of the choices he made, composition-wise. The downside is that I spent perhaps more time fixating on what is currently missing or incomplete…and ruminating as to how I can “fix” things, make things exactly as Lenny intended them to be. But I can’t know that what is in the binder was even his final vision for the project. And it is clear that Chapter Nine was not completed. And so perfection is not possible. And for who am I attempting to put together this “perfect” project?
I never gave myself a timeline for completing “Tugs” but, in my mind, I knew from the start that I wanted it done before the end of 2021. Part of the reason is because I want to be able to pursue my own projects. It is something that I have waited to have the time to do and it would be a mistake to fill too many moments with someone else’s dream. And I know that Lenny would agree.
Today was tough for me. I felt frustrated. I felt angry that Lenny died so long ago. I wanted him here. And I wish I had been older, had been closer to his age somehow. I wish I had been able to talk with him, to listen as he shared his struggles. I know that he struggled. I know that his weight gain was a reflection of those battles. I know that in many ways, I did not know him much at all. I was too young. But I loved him fiercely. What I saw and felt around “Uncle Lenny” produced in me an undying love. And I know that he loved me. I try to remember that when I start to feel guilty about our last exchange.
