Process — Not Perfection
Why stepping forward—imperfectly—is better than standing still
The Myth of Perfection
When I was young, I aspired to perfection. As I got older, I learnt that nothing is ever perfect. Perfection is literally an illusion, as illusory as anything silly I believed in as a child.
All that is needed, right now, is progress toward my goal.
Pedal by Pedal
Maybe it’s why I like cycling. Merely by pushing the pedal down, I move forward. There’s no point thinking about cycling 50 or 100 miles. Rather, simply push the pedal down now, in this moment, and I’m making progress. I’m moving forward.
Gardening as Practice
I’ve been wanting to trim the hedges and shrubs in our garden. The last couple of days, I’ve spent a couple of hours each day cutting some of them. Already, the garden looks better, even though there’s more to do—like hoeing to clear some weeds.
It’s not finished. But it’s better. And it’s progress.
Exams and Illusions
I used to be a swot back in the days of the Inter Cert—the State exam taken by most pupils around 16 years old. I did well in it. But we had three years to prepare for that one, and only two years for the more important Leaving Cert, which came at 18.
I felt overawed and, honestly, kind of gave up before I started. It wasn’t just a lack of confidence. It was also the paralyzing pressure of wanting to be perfect.
Two Ladders, One Truth
One of the most helpful images I’ve ever seen—and I wish I’d seen it before I torpedoed my Leaving Cert—was of two ladders, both the same length.
One had rungs close together. The other had rungs spaced so far apart they were impossible to climb.
That picture showed something I’ve come to learn slowly: to reach a goal, it’s enough to take small steps. If you aim too high too fast, you risk disheartening yourself. You need reachable rungs.
Circling Inward
We used to have a labyrinth in our garden. Maybe nine yards across, with a standing stone at its centre.
To get there, you had to follow winding paths. At times, you’d be moving inward, closer to the goal. Then suddenly, the path would swing outward again, and you’d feel as far away as when you started.
But you weren’t. You’d walked far, and you were closer than you thought. And by simply taking the next step, and the next, you’d eventually find yourself at the centre—touching the standing stone.
Progress, not perfection. Every step counts, even the ones that seem to take you away from the goal.
At the Wheel
I began a pottery class recently with me missus.
At our first session, I sat at the wheel, hands on spinning clay. I didn’t know what I was going to make—and that was intentional. I wanted to see what would emerge.
Then, just as something began to take shape, the teacher would say, “Stop!” I looked down. To me, it didn’t seem great. But she was tuned into the process, not the perfection.
Once or twice, I ignored her and kept going—and the clay buckled. Other times, I stopped when she said to, and it worked. With small tweaks—a press here, a poke there—the form became more interesting.
Imperfectly Forward
So now I get it:
Process, not perfection.
Progression, not completion.
Imperfection rocks!
Happy days,
Joe
Joe’s acclaimed first memoir In My Gut, I Don’t Believe is available on Amazon in Kindle, Paperback, Hardback and Audible editions. His second memoir Saved by a Woman is available on Amazon in Kindle, Paperback, and Hardback editions.
Love this Joe. Something I am still learning.
As well as the twisting winding road to our goal (whatever it might be) take time to explore the lanes and offshoots that pop up from time to time. Often they lead you to a different/better destination, prepare you better for your original destination or just prove to be a better route there.