Chaos

True chaos comes from the garden of your soul where the wild flowers grow. Matt Baker

There’s moments when you finally come to acceptance with your life’s course. Those moments when you totally embrace your reality. When you are ok with whatever happens next. When you receive the life you are given, when you love it, when you actually live it.

Just like in a fairy tale, there are those times when the witch comes. The witch is actually you. Your own perfectionism. Your selfish desire to obtain more. Your need for more. Consume, consume, consume. Be that, do that, get that. Have that. Ticking boxes and fulfilling wishes, but not real wishes. And then, I remember a song by Savage Garden, a line that says the truth that we are all hiding behind, afraid to go wrong if we simply believe in what the universe is handing us, if we would just start living in the now, “All that you need will surely come.” 

Not all that you wish, though, is what you need. 

old-memories

 

And when you come to acceptance with that, that’s when you find tranquility.

A couple of months ago, I experienced a strong sense of tranquility for the life I lead. A sense of belonging to the universe and this feeling intensifies mostly when I travel, when I am in the air and I see the tiny colored places (from the airplane, I mean). It’s in those moments, when there is no music in the background, when there is no other distraction, that you clearly see who you are and that shows you that you Must live more. Love more, experience life more. But that’s only in the air. When I land, I “Get back on Earth.”, reality kicks in, and that “thing” felt when living in the clouds fades in. And tranquility is lost once again.

How to achieve that sensation that life is wonderful and start living it and stop being so linked to perfectionism? … What do I even mean by that? 

I am extremely perfectionist. I rarely say, write, create, express something if I do not make it sound perfect, if it does not sound perfectly into an idea, in a thought, making a reason, a meaning. I want to write, and I wish to write and to create and to expand and to go beyond, but I stop myself for fear I am not enough of a person that I want to be, a creative writer, a storyteller, an illustrator of the mind. Or what I want to become.

Perfect imperfections” sang John Legend. 

Most of that need and strive for perfectionism comes from seeing other people, other creations, other products, other services being made so beautiful, presented in such a wonderful way, in such a creative, innovative way. I want that creativity, that sparkle, that perfection. I desire for producing art, meaningful things, I do not know what, do not ask me that, however I am in an endeavor and strong need for producing something worthwhile. I do not know if this is like a creativity crisis or something, and I totally feel there are extraordinary people out there, creating and making the best out of nothing, which is making me seeing that in an even more perfectionism manner, which in turn, makes me even more prone to thinking on what can I do to achieve that feeling, to create in others the same feeling I experience when I notice art, creation, innovation, beauty.

But no, I want it all. And that, truly is perfectionism. It goes beyond ambition.

But me, writing this post, which has no organisation whatsoever, it’s definitely, me trying to beat up that part of me that desperately wishes to just present herself as perfect, when I so know that …

 I am totally imperfect.

perfectionism-and-tranquility

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