no perfection

My big plan was to write these blogs at least twice a week, maybe three times. It's still my big plan -- I'm just very, very late on my second blog post. I'm going to be okay with that. If any of you know me at all, you'll know that one of my many challenges in life is that I am forced to operate within a linear time scheme.

The reason I haven't written has nothing to do with not having a subject to write about. I have had just the opposite problem. I've sat down many nights with a different angle, topic, dharma, trauma, what have you. Then another idea would pop into my head. Then I couldn't decide which idea was more... perfect. Then neither idea looked perfect at all. So, I would cut what I had started out of the new post box, save the start to a MSWord document titled "blog ideas" and usually make an extra strong cup of a sleepy, drowsy type of tea and go to bed. Frustrated. With nothing to post. Perfectly.

The upside to this writing "process" of mine: I have enough blog ideas to last me through a few weeks at this point. The downside to this writing "process" of mine: I have yet to post my second blog.

This is another theme in my life.

I very often let the monster named "Perfection" shut me down, freeze my momentum, and otherwise stop me from keeping on keeping on.

I named this blog "these training wheels" because I need training wheels when it comes to most of the concepts I want to talk about. (And I need them with my writing, too.) When I was a kid, I was the last one my age in my neighborhood to learn to ride a bike without training wheels. Seriously. I think I was in third or fourth grade. Yes, the social consequences were enormous. But part of why I didn't learn earlier, is I resisted riding my bike with those training wheels early on. So, I didn't practice enough. I didn't develop the internal balance you need to keep the bike upright and straight. I didn't learn to be courageous and fearless on that bike.

Finally, all my friends were riding off to places without me, so I just had to do it. I just had to learn or be left out. I had to look like a dork with those training wheels on my bike, too. (I also tried to ride my Huffy three-speed -- sans training wheels -- like a BMX Mongoose and nearly knocked my brains out over the lovely red Oklahoma dirt. But that's another story and another lesson.)

Training wheels equal imperfection. Admitting I need training wheels with life is admitting that I suck at a lot of things about life, but somehow, recently I've found myself more willing to admit that and face it and try to not suck. Or suck less. Or be okay with my sucky-ness. Or something. (Yes, I know. Not the perfect Buddhist lingo, but I refer you back to the title of this post.)

So here is my quote tonight, by Pema Chodron: "...I’m here to tell you that the path to peace is right there, when you want to get away. You can cruise through life not letting anything touch you, but if you really want to live fully, if you want to enter into life ... you’re definitely going to have the experience of feeling provoked ... You’re not just going to feel bliss. The message is that when those feelings emerge, this is not a failure. This is the chance to cultivate maitri (loving-kindness), unconditional friendliness toward your perfect and imperfect self."

I usually try to avoid things that show that I'm weak, incapable, less than talented, sometimes less than kind, sometimes less than smart, aging, fading. But ultimately, if I'm always seeking something better, if I'm frozen because my actions, my skills, my words, my heart, my relationships are not perfect in this moment, I'm rejecting my life. To quote Pema again, I am "living my life haunted by a fundamental dissatisfaction." Because this moment is my life. The question to ask is this: How many moments -- how much of who I am-- do I avoid, hide from, grouch at or rage at because it's just not what I want or it's not perfect. If it adds up to more moments than not, I'm spending my life avoiding my life (because it can't ever be perfect).

I don't want to do that anymore.

I need my training wheels. Nothing I write will ever be perfect. Nothing I do will ever be perfect. I will never be perfect. And not a single letter, action or thought may mean anything worthwhile at all. But, I want to ride that bike.

Right now.