For this recovering perfectionist, the weightless joy of imperfection can sometimes seem like an elusive dream. Like awakening from a deep slumber with thoughts flirting on the fringe of your conscious mind. The desire is to remember and maybe even grasp hold of them, but the movement of your outstretched hands as you struggle chases them away like fragile wisps of smoke. Just beyond your reach. There one moment and gone the next. So close yet so far away. A dream unrealized. Followed by a subtle sadness.
But then I see this photo with its beautiful, amazing, liberating, awe-inspiring imperfection… And I take a deep breath. Exhale slowly. And rest. The shadows and light perform a captivating dance while the focused blur plays the song of my heart, the rhythm of my soul.
I am overwhelmed with gratitude. And peace. Can this really be happening to me? Is this my life? Yes. And please don’t let me miss one raw, messy moment of it. Perfectly imperfect.