One of the most toxic ideas to grip the mind of human beings is perfection. We expect it, we crave it, we wish to see it in our lives and relationships, but reality and the idea of perfection are in constant state of friction… Reality is ever-changing, it is transformation combined with unpredictability. Perfection is the opposite. Reality is a living river, perfection is a static painting.

Yung Pueblo

Perfectionism can come in many forms, in trying to follow body standards as well as pursuing models for what we consider beauty. We humans know that there’s such a thing as beauty and it’s a core feature of our species to appreciate it but there’s little consensus of what beauty is. What is the basis of something perfect, is it in form, aesthetics, meaning? Nature is a prominent example of an area of our lives where there’s an agreement that there’s beauty but nature itself is big on imperfections, just look around. Imperfection is part of the beauty of our natural world and should have a more prominent role in our lives too. Follow me in this journey in defense of imperfection in the words of the Japanese principle of wabi-sabi, writer Elizabeth Gilbert,  Roma emperor Marcus Aurelius, and prolific writer Isaac Asiimov.

Wabi Sabi

In traditional Japanese aesthetics, wabi-sabi (侘寂) is a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is "imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete".[3] It is a concept derived from the Buddhist teaching of the three marks of existence (三法印, sanbōin), specifically impermanence (無常, mujō), suffering (苦, ku) and emptiness or absence of self-nature (空, kū). 1

Characteristics of the wabi-sabi aesthetic include asymmetry, roughness, simplicity, economy, austerity, modesty, intimacy, and appreciation of the ingenuous integrity of natural objects and processes.
Wabi-sabi is in part about authenticity. The events of this year have had me looking more inwards into what’s authentically me and in what ways I want to express my inner world with grace. Wabi-sabi nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished and nothing is perfect. Just like us, and the lives we lead: My existence is finite, I’m still evolving and I’m not perfect. 

Wabi encompasses rustic simplicity, freshness and an expression of understated elegance. Sabi refers to the beauty or serenity that comes with age when the life of an object and its impermanence are evidenced in its wear or any visible repairs. But in Japanese art books is defined as flawed beauty. It sounds so weird because we conceive beauty to a great extent to be about perfection. There is mysticism in the statement that there is a side of beauty that is not everything that it can possibly be, that is not perfect, but it’s still beauty. Wabi-sabi has particular influence in arts, poetry, and Japanese culture, to me it’s a reminder to appreciate what is here for us, in front of us, to appreciate the process of creation and evolution that sometimes doesn’t lead to immaculate results and to remember the movement of everything around me. 

Perfection standards and feelings of inadequateness are not new to our time, nothing really is. As Elizabeth Gilbert wonderfully stated: ...especially love watching Marcus Aurelius fighting his perfectionism in order to get back to work on his writing, regardless of the results. “Do what nature demands,” he writes to himself. “Get a move on—if you have it in you—and don’t worry whether anyone will give you credit for it. And don’t go expecting Plato’s Republic; be satisfied with even the smallest progress, and treat the outcome of it all as unimportant.” Please tell me I’m not the only one who finds it endearing and encouraging that a legendary Roman philosopher had to reassure himself that it’s okay not to be Plato.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there’s Isaac Asimov. In an article published on Quartz in 2017 titled “Isaac Asimov wrote almost 500 books in his lifetime—these are the six ways he did it” gets to the heart of the celebrated science-fiction writer’s prolificacy. How could Asimov do it? One of the major reasons behind his productivity is that he simply “lowered his standards”. He was against the pursuit of perfectionism. Charles Chu, the author of the piece, writes:

Trying to get everything right the first time, he [Asimov] says, is a big mistake. Instead, get the basics down first: Think of yourself as an artist making a sketch to get the composition clear in his mind, the blocks of color, the balance, and the rest. With that done, you can worry about the fine points. Don’t try to paint the Mona Lisa on round one. Lower your standards. Make a test product, a temporary sketch, or a rough draft. At the same time, Asimov stresses self-assurance: [A writer] can’t sit around doubting the quality of his writing. Rather, he has to love his own writing. I do. Believe in your creations. This doesn’t mean you have to make the best in the world on every try. True confidence is about pushing boundaries, failing miserably, and having the strength to stand back up again. We fail. We struggle. And that is why we succeed.

One way to throw perfectionism off is to lower our standards, but it’s important to do it while simultaneously doing the work we have to do. Simply lowering your standards is not enough without action and might pull you into an infinite abyss of procrastination and aloofness. The other way to let perfectionism free is to engrave in your minds sooner that people don’t have time to worry about what you are doing, or how well you are doing it, because they are all caught up in their own dramas. 

“We all spend our twenties and thirties trying so hard to be perfect, because we’re so worried about what people will think of us. Then we get into our forties and fifties, and we finally start to be free, because we decide that we don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of us. But you won’t be completely free until you reach your sixties and seventies, when you finally realize this liberating truth – nobody was ever thinking about you, anyhow.” 

Mere completion is an honorable achievement in its own right

Elizabeth Gilbert again: I also think my mother understood this radical notion – that mere completion is a rather honorable achievement in its own right. What’s more, it’s a rare one. Because the truth of the matter is, most people don’t finish things! Look around you, the evidence is everywhere: People don’t finish. They begin ambitious projects with the best of intentions, but then they get stuck in a mire of insecurity and doubt and hairsplitting…and they stop. So if you can just complete something – merely complete it! – you’re already miles ahead of the pack, right there. You may want your work to be perfect, in other words; I just want mine to be finished.

Having extremely high standards combined with self-consciousness is a recipe for perfection pursuit. And it’s a killer of your most precious work and even of your own self. Or at least in the ways that you can show authentically. All of it are signs of the fear inside. Where the trap is laid is in believing this feeling of striving for perfection is what has made us who we are. And thus rejecting to certain degree how this tightness constrains us more than liberate us. Imperfection is beauty, flawed beauty. To me that’s liberating.