Why Imperfection is So Perfect

There are many people in my life who think I’m a perfectionist, which astonishes me.  Granted… I’m anal, to be sure;  I’m highly organized;  I’m a bit of a control freak  in certain situations; my husband says my handwriting could be a font; and I am, as my music director says, a Suzy-Prepares-A-Lot.  But a perfectionist?  I don’t see it.

Perfection is “freedom from fault or defect.”

Where exactly is the fun in that?

Some weeks ago, I went to see a cabaret show.  The singer had a beautiful voice and was technically excellent.  The show was prepared and scripted to the nth degree.  Every look, gesture, breath, phrase, note, vowel, and consonant seemed as though it had been practiced.  It was über controlled and, in its technical delivery at least, without fault or defect.   Yet it was one of the most imperfect shows I’ve ever seen.  It was often dull and lifeless.  There wasn’t a single spontaneous moment.  And, although I believe the singer was sincere, I wasn’t moved by a single song or story.  The edges were so smooth and polished that there was nothing for me to hold onto.

Andrea Marcovicci instructs her cabaret pupils to “embrace distraction.”  I love this.  The freedom to embrace distraction is one of the reasons I was drawn away from theatre and into this wonderful world of cabaret.  I love the freedom of singing the music I want to sing, telling the stories I choose to tell, exploring topics of interest to me, creating programming that is unique to me, and putting all of these elements in front of an audience without the boundaries that theatre requires.  Most of all, I love being me on stage, interacting with the audience as myself.   To me, the best moments in a performance are often the surprises… the unscripted distractions that come from this freedom:  talking with the audience (not just to them); acknowledging an error or ungraceful move; and reacting in the moment to whatever is happening right now.  There’s no character to break, no rigid script from which to deviate.  It all… just… is.

And it’s perfect.  With all its flaws and defects, it’s perfect.

So maybe we need a new definition for perfection, or a new word altogether.  Maybe perfection should be defined as that which “meets the needs and desires of all involved” or (not to get too Eckhart Tolle on you) that which “comes as close to being right for right now as humanly possible.”   Humanly is the key word here I think because, to me, in my emotional world, perfection always includes getting to the heart of the matter.

If we, and everything we did, were perfect, we would not be human.  It’s funny to me that perfection is always the goal… that perfection is ever the goal… and even funnier to me that so many people in my life think I strive for it.  We learn so much from imperfection, from mistakes, from failure.  Think Post-It Notes.  The guy who invented them was trying to make a glue… and failed… or something to that effect.  How perfect was that failure?  I can’t even remember life before Post-It Notes.  Post-It Notes rule!

And those performance moments that most endear us to an audience?  Yep… you guessed it… the “imperfect”, spontaneous ones.  We need to whole-heartedly embrace so-called imperfection as enthusiastically as Andrea embraces distraction… and then say ‘thank you’ for how perfect a situation we find ourselves in… right now.

Let’s practice.

Our dishwasher has not worked properly since the day we got it.  Sometimes, for reasons unknown to man or beast, it randomly decides not to release the soap to wash the dishes.  The powdered detergent ends up as a soap brick, cemented firmly into the compartment that refused release it.  Whatever dirt didn’t get rinsed off during the wash cycle is now, thanks to the heated dry cycle, baked firmly onto the dishes.  It’s annoying.  But it is absolute and undeniable perfection that I have a dishwasher and do not, for the most part, ever have to wash dishes by hand.

Our master bathroom shower is the absolute coldest place in our home.  Some genius, for reasons unknown to man or beast, decided that the outside walls surrounding said shower didn’t require insulation.  Getting into that stall first thing on a winter morning gives new meaning to the term “nipply” and, according to my husband, will make even the bravest testicles run and hide.  To add insult to… well… insult, the water takes forever to get hot.  All in all, not what one might call ideal (though it does wake you up!).  But it is absolute and undeniable perfection that we can take a shower whenever we wish, and even more perfect that we can simply turn a knob and have water whenever we want, wherever we want, for whatever we want.

On December 8th, my mom had a stroke.  Up to this point, my parents (both in their late 70′s) had experienced no major health problems.  They have always taken care of themselves, and they have remained active (mentally and physically) and engaged in life post retirement.   So this event was completely unexpected.  Mom was lucky though.  The stroke only affected the motor function in her right arm and leg.  Her speech and cognitive functions were unaffected.  She had 2 weeks of intensive in-patient rehab and got home on December 22nd.  Her handwriting is not the gorgeous font-like handwriting (see? I come by it honestly) she had pre-stroke, but it’s legible.  She needs a walker now, but she did learn to walk again.

On Christmas Eve, she and my dad joined us at our home for dinner.

And it was perfect.

Wishing you a perfectly safe, healthy, and happy New Year.  See you in 2011!

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Songs of the Day:
The Greatest – Kenny Rogers (written by Don Schlitz)
Perfect – Ann Hampton Callaway

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