Chasing Perfection

According to Greek mythology, Momos, the God of blame, ridicule, scorn, and mockery, believed the only God or Goddess that was blameless was Aphrodite. Aphrodite failed to, and could not commit any wrongdoing; she was perfect. For the rest of us, including the rest of the Greek Gods and Goddesses, our attempts and desire to be perfect are futile. If we are perfectionists, sadly, we will always be disappointed.

What does it mean to be a perfectionist? Why do we give ourselves such impossible standards? What do we chase when chasing perfection, when trying to be perfect? And how does one let go of continuing a cycle of incessant striving? All are questions I have been facing these last couple of years.

One of the most profound things anyone ever said to me about myself was from an older friend. He once said to me, “It’s like you are running a race with millions of people; you are five miles ahead of everyone else, but you’re beating yourself up for not being ten miles ahead of everyone else.” Such a comment made very concise my particular state of mind in relationship to myself, and my life. I was and had been chasing perfection; I was chasing this illusory ideal and it fueled me. It was inexhaustible fuel because the goal was unachievable; nothing could be good enough; I would always have to do more, accomplish more, and achieve better than anyone else. If, in the face of accomplishment, something fails to be satisfying, that is because it is not meant to be. Being satisfied would mean not being perfect would mean letting go of an aspect of one’s identity that one has spent years reinforcing, probably for good reason, though that reason is no longer justifiable.

We chase perfection and allow ourselves to be motivated by impossible standards because it fuels and reinforces the identities we create, and we create identities in the first place largely to protect ourselves from the pains of the world; we create identities or other selves because our original self was not good enough for our parents, for others, or for society. Many times my identity has shifted, more appropriately my aims or goals changed, but the underlying theme remained the same: find a way to be perfect and good enough to prove I was deserving of love and recognition from the world.

Sadly, even in the midst of personal triumph and achievement there was a little voice that was not satisfied; that expected more. Being a Marine in the infantry became, “Why aren’t you a scout sniper?” Graduating with a degree in philosophy became “How come you haven’t offered the world the next great philosophical discourse?” Being recognized for my writing became, “How come you have not published a book yet?” Having successfully roamed and wandered the world became, “Why haven’t you thrown away your passport and really let go?” Visiting over twenty countries became, “Why not thirty countries?”

During one of my long travels abroad I was with my good friend in France. I mentioned to him how it would be really cool and liberating to backpack through parts of the world without any set plan, just wandering here and there without any specific time frame in mind. He said, “You’re doing that now?” My first thought was, “Oh yea, you’re right.” And yet there was this sense that I wasn’t travelling freely enough, wasn’t really going out on the limb. Thus even in the face of great accomplishment, what often ruled the day was what I had failed to do, even though that itself was an illusion.

At times I have certainly come to realize that my goals were set against the backdrop of impossible standards; I have realized that the way I was living, nothing would ever be good enough. The mind creates perfection based around the idea that nothing can live up to it.  Even Leonardo Da Vinci is rumored to have uttered on his deathbed, “I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have!” Thus for someone caught up in chasing perfection, no matter the accomplishment, nothing is good enough, where perfection seems to be less about accomplishing and more about keeping one perpetually striving.

One of the more poignant understandings was to realize how habitually I would internalize anything that went wrong. This occurred so unconsciously that it became almost impossible to take a look from a higher elevation to see that what paraded as instinct of character was really self flagellation. Caught up in the task of bearing witness to one’s self, one must find a way to not only disidentify from the cycle of chasing perfection, but from the cycle of then being critical of one’s criticality.

Engaged in such a task, I can see that that the very person trying to free himself from perfection and guilt is doing so through a false self that is perfectionistic and guilt ridden. The question becomes, how can a person free themselves of perfection when the very person trying to overcome those things is caught up in them; how does one stop trying to be perfect when it is their perfect trying self that is doing the trying? Of course the answer is by simply stopping and letting go, but it must be done from a different approach. One of the things I do now when I recognize that something is not perfect, a mistake was made, or when I find myself being hard on myself, is that I say it’s ok, and just watch it.

Of course there is nothing wrong with setting high standards for ourselves. Setting impossible standards is the problem. More over, it is the inability to see some of the standards we set as impossible in nature that keeps us striving, continually pushing for what can’t be achieved, fueled by fundamental motivations that no longer serve us.

The Art of the Moment

There is an art to being in the moment and fully appreciating something. There is a great subtlety involved with it. The art of the moment is where one drops off into an inclusiveness defined by nothingness, where the allure of the sensuous casts a light over all that is and can be felt, enclosing us in a timeless landscape of constancy and synthesis.

But to truly be in the moment one must give up a sense of being someone in the moment. This is not an easy thing to do. Most of us, even in moments where we claim we are in the present, are not. We are instead judging the world, capturing it, interpreting it in relation to how we have constructed our world in relation to our own identity and in relation to ideas. We try to be in the moment, but we want the moments to be ours, we want the moment to be our own, and the second we begin processing and acknowledging what we are experiencing, the second we are not experiencing.

With stillness and a finely tuned awareness one can watch that moment in an experience where one begins to move from the complete moment of the experience, off into one’s own world away from the present. It is very subtle and rather abrupt, but it can be experienced. In such a moment one will notice that often when perceiving something, one’s mind immediately wants to process that experience and categorize it in relation to itself and the conglomerate of memories and identities. Often, one is more concerned with being able to translate the experience to another. We are eager to put a label on it. We feel the urge to define, that egotistical urge, desperate to think the moment into existence, pretending that thought makes it real.

Thoughts, words, and ideas have a place of course but they are all only representations and as such they can never do justice to the experience, though that is what we desire from it. We want something to show to others and we get frustrated trying to explain ourselves. Language is flimsy at best and so our definition of experience is one that has an experiencer, but this kind of experience is different. When such things occur, the moment is lost and the purity of the experience is lost.

The most rewarding way to appreciate something and to fully experience it is to engage in a sensory experience without feeling the need to think about it or process it; without the need to say anything about it; instead, simply be with it and not try.

Indeed, trying becomes something paradoxical in and of itself. Naturally we are trying to do something, that is, be in the moment, but there is a difference between trying from an egoistic standpoint, and trying, where the intention to be is not a product of thought or conformity to some idealization. Instead, the intention to be becomes. This distinction can be experienced, again with careful awareness; one can watch the ‘you’ that is trying to be; one can see that conception of one’s self that has been created, the ego and the persona struggling to make the world more real and permanent than is possible.

In the end what “defines” the ability to be present has nothing to do with any force of the mind, there is no thought, or even mental effort. It is a letting go, an observing without an observer, a being without a being.