Someone sent me this quote today: Imperfection is lovable.
What a relief. Because I’m walking, talking, living imperfection.
- Do I always say the right thing? Nope.
- Is the copy on my website error-free? Nope.
- Can I fit in the jeans I wore in high school? Nope.
Imperfect, imperfect, imperfect. Check, check, check.
I do believe imperfection is lovable. Because it’s real and relatable.
Perfection, on the other hand, keeps love at an arm’s length. Because it keeps everyone at an arm’s length.
I mean, really. When’s the last time you perceived someone as perfect and felt simpatico? Like kindred spirits.
I’m guessing not anytime lately.
Instead, you probably compared and felt less than. Or you sensed the house of cards charade of all that perfection. The tension and tight control to keep it all just so.
Let’s be honest, perfection is kind of off-putting.
And imperfection, with all its truth and vulnerability, is kind of lovable.
Or, in the words of Leonard Cohen:
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
I’m not perfect. You’re not perfect.
Nothing and no one is perfect.
And it is that very imperfection—that crack in everything—that allows the light. And the love.
