Woundedness

When you become vulnerable, any ideal or perfect image of yourself falls away. We are addicted to perfection, and in our pursuit of the ideal, we have no patience with vulnerability.

Every poet would like to write the ideal poem. Though they never achieve this, sometimes it glimmers through their best work. Ironically, the very beyondness of the idea is often the touch of presence that renders the work luminous. The beauty of the ideal awakens a passion and urgency that brings out the best in the person and calls forth the dream of excellence.

The beauty of the true ideal is its hospitality towards woundedness, weakness, failure and fall-back. Yet so many of us are infected with the virus of perfection. We cannot rest; we allow ourselves no ease until we come close to the cleansed domain of perfection. This false notion of perfection does damage and puts our lives under great strain. It is a wonderful day in a life when one is finally able to stand before the long, deep mirror of one`s own reflection and view oneself with appreciation, acceptance, and forgiveness.

On that day one breaks through the falsity of images and expectations which have blinded one`s spirit. One can only learn to see who one is when one learns to view oneself with the most intimate and forgiving compassion.