We’re All Broken, But That’s What Makes Us Complete
Let’s face it, we’re all broken. We’re all working feverishly setting goals to achieve and patch up one or more gaps in our lives. But where do these “gaps” come from? You are who you are, so to identify a gap infers some other metric or objective that is not where you are right now. Who creates the boundary line on the other side of the gap, and is that line just a horizon line that keeps moving from where we are when we get there?
The genesis of this post came from the prompt “I can finally take a nap once I complete ______”, the purpose of which is to point out we often think we’ll be complete or accomplished once we achieve some goal or mythical finish line. The metaphor is a great one to shine a light on our inherent “brokenness”. We’re always trying to close some perceived gap in our lives and mentally establishing some finish line. We tell ourselves that when I get to this finish line I’ll allow myself (fill in the blank). We set goals, define tasks, and either beat ourselves up or congratulate ourselves daily as we either fall short or make progress toward achieving the objective. We surmise that happiness or completeness lies just on the other side of achieving this goal. Inevitably, even when we arrive at our destination, victory medal in hand, the imagined sense of wholeness has either moved further down the road in the form of a new goal or only briefly felt before some new gap has been identified. We’re goal-creating machines, always scurrying around to get somewhere or achieve something.
It’s been said that most of us don’t truly live. We don’t live in the present — the right here and right now. We’ve always got one foot examining the past and the other looking / planning / worrying about the future. Our thoughts about the future we’re living into are formed by our experience and constant interpretation of our past. There’s very little objective experience of reality. We’re not awake.
All of this is not to say that setting goals and being achievement oriented isn’t a good thing — it’s merely an observation of who we are and acknowledging it. We don’t live merely in our own heads. There is a world out there that is constantly moving and reorienting our position to it. There are responsibilities, dependencies, and real consequences that stem from what we do or do not do. But knowing oneself is the first step to becoming awake. To be your own observer is a powerful thing. If we can acknowledge the silliness that lies behind constantly setting goals and moving the the finish line each time we get there, we can create space perhaps to take a breath and acknowledge how normal and complete we really are. And maybe we can actually pause for a moment more when we do climb that mountain before setting our sights on the next. What would it be like to simmer in the joy of accomplishment before tossing that trophy on the pile and diving back in to feeling unfinished?
We only have our life to live — our days to spend. How should we spend them? If we can acknowledge the cosmic joke that we all subscribe to each day, we might travel through our days with a little more lightness of being and personal forgiveness. Instead of always letting ourselves down, we could still charge hard toward achieving our goals but also know that we’re complete even if we fall short. We can still enter the battlefield, keep score, and compete to achieve more and more with our personal morals and values intact. In fact, challenging ourselves is what makes us better, helps others, and makes the world a wonderful place. But what if we can carry with us the knowing that we’re totally complete by inherently being broken?
There’s a peace with oneself that is acquired when this knowing and acceptance of being broken is assumed. We’re all works in progress, living through our stream of days where each is an opportunity to hit reset and start anew. And if we accept that we are all broken, perhaps we can take on more compassion and empathy with others around us. Hey — that annoying parent in front you who can’t discipline her kid is a work in progress too.
I for one have gotten much better at “taking a nap” and celebrating life’s little victories, but I have a long way to go. It’s hard to be present when the past and future seem to be punching you at every moment. We are thinking machines, always self-talking and establishing new gaps to cross. But I revel in the knowing that I will always be broken, and that makes me complete just as I am.
