Reading again through this now I see little spaces here and there that I might change, clumsy phrasings, or maybe a misspelled word or two — but I find myself filled with the very human-ness of my propensity to error. So I will leave them. The piece is perfectly imperfect, with flaws as real as my own. I’m trying to fall out of love with perfectionism and commit to anti-perfectionism, where I let myself exist, however imperfectly. Where I let myself show up and be heard, even when I’m not ready. I’m a firm believer that it is better to speak and stumble, to stammer and uncertainly continue than it is to remain silent, waiting for some perfect future readiness that might never arrive. Best, I think, to just give it a go with whatever you have to give at this moment — knowing that the loving people of the world you as a what you are, and what they are to you, a mirror, a refraction, a friend, someone with a story to tell, someone who through their own words might make things just a bit more clear when you begin (or continue) to share your own. Where are my fellow anti-perfectionists? Or perhaps we can make a more loving word for it, maybe something like: Imperfect Beauties 🥰
Beautiful! Thomas Cole’s Voyage of Life, the paintings you have here, formed the foundation of myself. I first saw them on a school field trip to Washington DC. In the paintings, I saw a world a part from the suburban NJ culture I grew up in. I spent the rest of my life chasing that culture. Now I am living the third painting and Kubla Khan stands before me. Thank you for such gorgeous writing.
Love this: “I’m like my dad when it comes to travel, always arriving extremely early out of fear that I might miss something, that the day I travel would be the day that they decide, you know what, let’s leave three hours early for fun. You never know, his voice in my head tells me.” Made me laugh.
This strikes a chord, the feeling of subtly mourning leaving a place you wanted to work out, or had different expectations for. But then turning a corner and feeling immense gratitude for the experience, anyway.
Reading again through this now I see little spaces here and there that I might change, clumsy phrasings, or maybe a misspelled word or two — but I find myself filled with the very human-ness of my propensity to error. So I will leave them. The piece is perfectly imperfect, with flaws as real as my own. I’m trying to fall out of love with perfectionism and commit to anti-perfectionism, where I let myself exist, however imperfectly. Where I let myself show up and be heard, even when I’m not ready. I’m a firm believer that it is better to speak and stumble, to stammer and uncertainly continue than it is to remain silent, waiting for some perfect future readiness that might never arrive. Best, I think, to just give it a go with whatever you have to give at this moment — knowing that the loving people of the world you as a what you are, and what they are to you, a mirror, a refraction, a friend, someone with a story to tell, someone who through their own words might make things just a bit more clear when you begin (or continue) to share your own. Where are my fellow anti-perfectionists? Or perhaps we can make a more loving word for it, maybe something like: Imperfect Beauties 🥰
Beautiful! Thomas Cole’s Voyage of Life, the paintings you have here, formed the foundation of myself. I first saw them on a school field trip to Washington DC. In the paintings, I saw a world a part from the suburban NJ culture I grew up in. I spent the rest of my life chasing that culture. Now I am living the third painting and Kubla Khan stands before me. Thank you for such gorgeous writing.
So good!!! Loved reading it :)
What a lovely piece of writing! Thank you.
Love this: “I’m like my dad when it comes to travel, always arriving extremely early out of fear that I might miss something, that the day I travel would be the day that they decide, you know what, let’s leave three hours early for fun. You never know, his voice in my head tells me.” Made me laugh.
This strikes a chord, the feeling of subtly mourning leaving a place you wanted to work out, or had different expectations for. But then turning a corner and feeling immense gratitude for the experience, anyway.
I LOVE YOU I LOVE THIS! You are so extremely wonderfully talented. I am lost without you and miss you deeply, dearly 💛😭
Wonderful read. Curious minds wonder what part of Ga. are you in?