What if we don't hate what we think we do?
Today I was asked if I liked writing content today as part of a job interview. I told the man on the other end that writing and I have a love hate relationship. I told him, and myself, that I hate to write. After more reflecting on my last piece on imperfection I started to wonder if the hate part of my relationship from writing isn't more about the elusive perfection I seek than the process of writing itself. Feelings can be so jumbled and I'm surprised I've never questioned this feeling of distaste. What else have I misidentified as hatred?
Just before my interview I had caught up with a good friend while walking her dog around town. As we parted ways I felt this odd feeling, almost like distaste. It's a familiar feeling, one I've always associated with a dislike or discomfort for the person I was meeting with. But this time I examined this feeling more deeply. I realized it was my expectations that were coloring my feeling. I had a great walk with a person I greatly admire and learned more about her in the process. It was basically ideal. It wasn't quite perfect and that's what I realized that feeling was, a dissatisfaction with the imperfection that is the human experience. Imperfection is a non-word though, as I touched on in my piece about the topic. In the world of art, there is no such thing. There is good and there is bad but there is no perfect or imperfect. There only is what is.
I have become so lost in trying to be perfect recently that I've forgotten what it means to be present. Isn't that what writing is? Being present to a moment and being truthful in re-representing it?
Phil Jackson reminded me of the importance of presence in his excellent book, Sacred Hoops. Jackson reminded me there is an alternative to a competitive, zero-sum world. We can learn to live and tell our stories, if only we take them as they are. I am starting to believe that by telling our stories, imperfect as they our, we are contributing to the beauty of the world.