Last week I had a conversation with a friend about the idea of “perfection.”
He told me, “…know that you are perfect just the way you are!”
I replied “I dunno. If I was perfect there would be no room for growth.”
He responded, “Is not a seed perfect? And yet, it sprouts and is perfect, then it grows and is perfect.”
I thought about it for a while, then said, “but what if the seed is damaged and can not grow?”
“Then it is perfect as it is.”

I bristled a bit and wasn’t sure why.
It took me another day of mulling this over to realize that we had different ideas of “perfect.”
The word, to me, is a judgement.
What is this idea of “perfection?”
Merriam-Webster has it as, “the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects…something that cannot be improved”
Who is to say what is a flaw or defect?

I suppose the basis of the seed concept is the idea of perfection as a “state of completeness”, wherein any state one is in is perfect at the moment.

But I couldn’t shake the thought that perfection is an end.
The etymology of “perfect” = “finished”.
How can a seed grow if it is already perfect?
What more is there when one has achieved perfection?
Change?
But if one is perfect, why change?
And how can one be perfect if one is in constant pain or despair or can not feed oneself?

A few days later I was sorting through some of my books while still mulling this conversation over in my head.
I came across an old hand-bound journal of my dad’s. Curious as to the date, I opened it up to the last entry.

This is what I found:

“Dawn:
I have absolute faith in her.
Tell Dawn that I love her and no need to be
perfect”