Whenever I think I’ve got some kind of handle on the way my life is unfolding or the way I am handling myself in a situation or a mindset, I get reminded that maybe I don’t have it so altogether as I might think that I do. It’s ok. It’s not like a big disappointment or anything. It’s just that I need to re-adjust my self-assessment and rethink my mode of operation.

Actually, I feel gratitude when I am reminded that I’m not perfect. I’m human. There is joy in the release of the self-imposed expectation of perfection. I can quit striving to attain some mystical outcome, and immerse instead in the process. Somewhere in that process of creating, as I am neck deep in the doing of art or swimming in the pool of poetic expression, I lose my sense of self-absorbed condemnation. Instead, I become merely the piece itself. And the piece becomes me for that moment. I am complete in my imperfectness, and I am full of joy.