I am not a perfectionist, by far - but somewhere inside of my mind, my ego, some part of my being, I have aims and aspirations for perfectionism. For some strange reason while I myself am far from perfect, I want and expect it from other people. And I feel myself edging in to tell them what they should be doing better, or telling myself that if only they did this or that, then whatever would be better. I am such an excellent critic - I think possibly that was my calling and I didn't listen. Yet, in myself I still want perfectionism in my daily life, in the things I produce and do.
On a morning walk while visiting my sister.
Though lately, these last weeks especially, I have been telling myself to let go more, for things to be able to evolve and not have to be forced in some way or other - or for my mind to have to re-record the story differently. I have allowed my friends to read stories to my children the way they read, not the way that I usually do - that particular line or word or paragraph doesn't have to be enunciated in the way that I do it, the emphasis can be different.
And, mainly, importantly I am trying slowly to let myself enjoy the things I do, in a different way. What I mean by this, is that I am doing more and allowing things to be not quite right. Making bread is a hit-and-miss, sometimes it is delicious, sometimes it is not so good. Though still, I am encouraging myself to continue and enjoy (or accept) the not so tasty loaves.