Today, I indulged. I let my mind wander to one of my favorite fantasies. Do you want to join me? Be warned, it’s pretty damn sexy. Imagine — every time you open your refrigerator, it’s immaculate. It smells like fresh lime and each item is carefully returned to its rightful place. The tupperware is all coordinated and labeled. The vegetables are pre-sliced to perfection, ready to use for quick meal prep. Fruits are washed in baggies with each child’s name on them, so that the 6-year old doesn’t eat all of the grapes in one sitting before her brothers get to them. Healthy, organic meals are pre-made and waiting for each day of the week and the school lunch items are ready to go. Can’t my fantasy of all things anal and immaculate include a multi-orgasmic experience? Yea, after I’m done with the fridge I’ll move to the office and color-code all of my files. First I have to file the two-foot high stack of business papers on my desk, and it will take me 3 hours to accomplish just that? No problem baby, that’s what fantasies are for. In my mind, that’s a 10-minute job. And, it doesn’t stop there. Pretty soon I have a perfectly trained dog and a clean car and employees who read my mind. And, if I get really wild and uninhibited I allow my fantasy to travel to the ultimate sexy of sexies. Cue the Al Green music because I’m not afraid to take you there…….. oh yea, color coded bookshelves.
Oddly, there’s a moment in this fantasy where I actually believe it’s possible. For a brief second, I believe that I can transform from a flaky, over-scheduled hippy, dippy chick into a brilliant, organized, type-A dynamo. And, I can do it in 12 hours or less. In that moment of thought indulgence, it doesn’t seem like a ridiculous expectation.
I spoke with a handful of my friends about this topic recently, and although every one of them is aware of the pitfalls of perfectionism, each woman admitted to having been baited and hooked by the wilds of her mind from time to time. Here are a few of the favorite fantasies that they shared: I would have endless time, attention and patience for my husband and children. I would eat immaculately. I would work ceaselessly without getting distracted. I would be the “cool mom” amongst my son’s peers (remember the Cool-Aid mom from 1978?), and I would always be on time, or I would be like Gordon B Hinckley’s mom who never, ever yelled at her kids.
So even if we recognize that perfection is an illusion, how do we go about creating lasting changes and transformation in our lives without indulging in fantasies that drive us to neurosis? How do we avoid the seduction of the mind?
It seems that the answer is counter-intuitive. Do less. Accept more. Be in this moment. Stop embracing the fantasy and love the one you’re with. Pulling back from future projections of fixing life, fixing ourselves, and trying to improve everything around us has odd side effects. It leaves us feeling spacious, clear, calm, and able to have a sense of humor about the mess we live in. If there are adjustments to be made in our lives, they are made with grace and acceptance, and much less effort than the perfectionist model requires. We have the ability to see through our wanton to-do list. We come to wholeness by not resisting, by not trying to come to wholeness. We learn that it’s safe to become intimate with everything in our lives.
In the book A Path With Heart, Jack Kornfield said:
“When we become intimate with all things, we discover rest, well-being, and wholeness in this very body. We recognize that we, and all life around us, are supposed to be here, that we belong here as much as the trees and the sun and the turning earth. There comes a healing, an opening, and a grace. The harmony of all things arises for us like the wisdom of Dan Julian of Norwich, who so beautifully declared, “All shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.” In intimacy we discover a profound sense of belonging and wholeness that allows us to touch all that we encounter.”
Those words mean so much to me – “we belong here as much as the trees and the sun and the turning earth.” It’s you and me – consciousness spilled into these forms we call bodies, experiencing life in the best way we know how. To me, that’s pretty damn near perfect.
Do you feel better when you stop trying to reach for perfectionism? What does your perfect look like? (I shared my fantasy, don’t be shy – share yours!) When was the last time you felt a profound sense of wholeness and intimacy with everything around you?
I know about the struggle to make things just so. It requires hyper-attention and vast amounts of patience and a certain degree of flexibility … And a moment later all of this can be for naught as some random, unexpected factor blows everything apart. So not a happy thing if one also does not have a high tolerance failure.
Laurie, I like the Buddhist in your thinking. Perfect is the thing in itself which we have only to recognize and appreciate to find peace. But I’m not good at it so those moments are rare.
PS. Isn’t that Jana and John Remy’s bookcase?
My 30-something, working-mom fantasy is to show up wherever I go as that immaculately dressed, but still oh-so-hip, woman with coordinating shoes & jewelry, the haircut funky yet professional. On those occasional days where I feel I’m getting close, I’ll catch myself half-way through the day and realize my pants don’t fit right, my shirt has a stain, it’s obvious I spent less than $5 on those earrings, on and on… it’s a real buzz kill. I’m working on being more comfortable with who I REALLY am (certainly not someone with enough time, money or (truthfully) care to accomplish this imaginary feat).
Ha! I have similar fantasies — I’ve always harbored a secret fantasy of being one of those “Lucky Girls” in Lucky Magazine who talks about her effortless, cool and individual style and her cool little style secrets and the places she shops.
Related to this fantasy is the one where The Sartorialist finds me walking along with my children in London and asks to take our picture. We’re on our way to a museum and instead of looking harassed and slightly grubby after the train and tube journeys and eating Burger King in Liverpool Street Station — where we’ve perched on one of the few benches in the station while pigeons try to eat our crumbs — we’re looking fresh and put together and we’ve just eaten in a gorgeous cafe or tearoom. The Sartorialist is so moved by our coolness and individuality that he just has to say a word about kids dressing with style and a woman with curves embracing them and looking fantastic.
Thanks to the reference to The Sartorialist… what a cool blog!
I absolutely share the Burger King/cool cafe dissonance… :) I can’t wait until my kids are old enough to sit still in/enjoy a nice cafe at all: then I can start scheming about how I could fund it!
Non-fashion related fantasies:
The one where I write for several hours each morning, do yoga in the afternoon after meeting with a friend and still find time to keep my eclectic, but tasteful and serenely decorated home tidy and put a gourmet organic dinner on the table each night. After dinner, I do a wholesome art project with the kids or help them write a story or do something else educational and I never need to turn the television on to keep everyone out of my hair. We end the night by reading several stories together, brushing our teeth, bathing and knowing where everything is for the morning school run.
I actually do all of these things on occasion, but never all in the same day. :)
Laurie — I’m reading A Path With a Heart right now and I have that passage underlined.
Laurie, I kind of like you as the hippy, dippy chick!! It suits you well.
I think you’ve forgotten a common wive’s fantasy. My wife wants to have two men; one to cook, the other to clean.
Amen to all of the fantasies above. I would also like to add my two.
I dream that someday fairies will come clean my carpets in my sleep. And when I get up in the morning there will be no stiff spots where the spilled milk has dried and all the stains will have disappeared. Right now I don’t even fantasize about getting tile or linoleum under my dinner table, I just dream about clean carpet.
My other fantasy is that one day my husband will come home with super powers. I am the ama de casa, the hausfrau, and one of these days he is going to come home and be able to read my mind. He will see the things that I didn’t accomplish and fill in the gaps. He will change the offending diaper, set the table, help the kid in the middle of homework and whisper sweet words of gratitude in my ear. He will be able to read my mind and help me with my burdens. I love my husband and I don’t know what I would be without him. But, he just can’t read my mind. I like the Kornfield quote. I want to be intimate with all things. The best way I have been able to find that peace is to lower my expectations. Do you know what I mean about lower? I continue to learn over and over again that my pressing concerns are not the same as my husband’s. And I should be fair. I don’t want to be able to read his mind–I just want him to read mine. Yes, it is hypocritical, it is also a fantasy.
I believe that grace and acceptance can come into my life when I realize that time and people cannot be controlled. And I cannot find my sense of humor when I have such high expectations of myself and those closest to me. I have been thinking about your article for days now. Thank you for this opportunity to reflect and introduce my consciousness to my unconsciousness again.
I like this post, Laurie!
Almost always, although it’s taken me a long time to realize this. One idea I find really appealing is Herb Simon’s thought of satisficing–of seeking for “good enough” solutions to problems rather than optimal ones. It’s for this very reason you cite–perfectionism–that I think satisficing is such a powerful approach. Seeking perfection takes too much time and energy from other pursuits. It’s just not likely to be worth it. And that’s not even taking into account the time it takes to figure out what a perfect solution will look like.
Anyway, some of my fantasies involve organization, of files, of books, of virtual items on my computers. I figure that all my attempts at organization are a work in progress, and all I can really do is try to keep moving them forward. One day, though, I’ll die, and then my kids will chuck everything anyway, so what will it really have mattered? ;)