The not-so-full moon
Old habits die hard. And this seems especially true for the unhealthy or less constructive ones. They are so ingrained that, even though they are making our lives considerably less enjoyable, it’s very hard to stop repeating them. So we are doing the same things over and over again.
Perfectionism is one of my old beasts, unwilling to lay down its head and die — or go to sleep, for that matter, which would already be fine by me.
For a lot of people, identity and selfworth are closely entwined with perfectionism, and I am a member of that particular congregation. Recently, I attended a workshop that once again pointed my attention to this dear old ‘friend’. It was a useful wake-up call to try and lower my impossible standards towards myself a little. The tension they cause and the way this saps my mental and emotional strength are better gotten rid of, sooner rather than later.
That very morning, the cats had broken into our bedroom twenty minutes before the alarm was supposed to wake us. They never — ever! — do that, but now, for some reason, two of them did. On my way to the kitchen to feed the trespassers, grumbling about having wanted to sleep a little longer, I caught sight of this earily beautiful moment:
Thinking about my dear old perfectionist demon, this image actually provides a nice metaphor. What better way to photograph the moon than when it’s full?
Like perfectionism, the full moon represents a rare moment of special and very particular beauty. It’s what we want to attain, how we want to be, all the time. Needless to say we’re in for failure.
What is so special about perfect beauty, I ask myself — provided that it even exists. Is it because it seems to speak of harmony and peace that we love it so much and try to reach it? Is it because it seems to have some immortal, more-than-human quality that lifts us up for a moment towards something greater than ourselves?
Whatever it is, we crave it and we strive to attain it. In vain.
What we must learn, is to love the moon when it is not full. It’s still the same heavenly presence, but it’s more subtle, more subdued perhaps, but at the same time probably a lot more interesting than that perfect white orb we so admire.
Be a little more like the not-so-full moon, I tell myself, as I feel how perfectionism is gnawing away my strength and my joy. Learn to love the shape of things as they are.
Allow yourself to be in the moment — waxing and waning, never perfect, ever changing, but at all times exactly what you need to be.
You are good enough.
