I love to stand up close to a painting in a museum and look at all the lines and dots of brushstrokes and seemingly random colors. They look like nothing up close. They are shapes and blobs. But as I step back and gain some distance and perspective, I see it. I see the unified image, the angle of a face or the wash of a landscape, perfectly captured in all those multiple dashes and blips.
Imperfection in art adds something. To know that an image is made up of shapes and colors and scratches and wipes is refreshing to me; that the overall effect can be delightful and complete even if it seems chaotic up close. Perhaps life is like that, and the human character. I want to remember not to get hung up on being a perfectionist with all of the small details in the process of my day today, and to trust in the wholeness that comes from the vast multitude of dots of uncertainty, errands and laughter, exercise and rest.
Today I will trust the creative living process, and not get hung up being a perfectionist.