It was nice to spend a few days at Pensacola Beach visiting loved ones. For me, being close to the ocean is like a giant reset button, grounding me in a way that nothing else can. And with all the last-minute things that needed to be done for the release of Be Still, My Soul, the timing of this opportunity to step away couldn’t have been better. While I was gone, I thought a lot about perfection. Would I catch every misplaced comma and every misspelled word? Would I notice all the things a large editorial staff would have caught as it passed through the sieve of many critical eyes?

The conclusion was, probably not. I realized that I was okay with that. Maybe that same process that would have cut away glaring errors and seen things that I missed, would have also whittled away at the quirky imperfections that made my book unique. I thought about all the things I love that are far from perfect and yet resonate deep in my soul.

The person that I used to be would have lost sleep over this, would have second guessed every decision, and maybe in the final hour would have abandoned the whole project. How many things in our lives are abandoned because they aren’t deemed worthy enough, perfect enough? How many imperfect things would I never have gotten the chance to fall in love with if their creators hadn’t had the courage to push ahead in spite of this? Would humans even exist? What about the platypus?

The greatest gift we can give ourselves is permission to be imperfect. How fortunate if we can begin to see how arbitrary it is and how limiting the pursuit of it truly is. Nothing will ever be. Nothing has ever been, perfect for everyone. Thank the Heavens for that, right? Perfection is boring. Let’s start a movement. Who’s with me? 😉