Why is it mankind, without knowing it, strives for perfection but appriciates imperfections the most?
Always we take back the imperfections which got lost trough perfection. Jaratells not needed any more to hold up stockings, but are much appriciated by those who look upon them. Digital photographs we filter with grains and colors to mimic the vintage look of photography from the olden days. Illustrations on the internet, mimic worn-out paper. Those imperfections are rich and beautifull. Those imperfections connect and speak to us, while perfection is cold. Perfection is empty. They sometimes are exciting and new but they are not bound to us, they are not connected to us… yet. Now perfections that wear off, got scratched, lose color … Those are the perfections that are not quite perfect anymore, but we experience them as something close to us. They became part of us. As if we appreciate material that went along for the ride with us, as much as we appreciate people we grew up with. Just as memories never contain the moments nothing went wrong, unless nothing going wrong, felt awkwardly wrong in the first place.
Annoyances are often the best memories we visit after the person that produced them, is gone. When we tell a story which invite laughter and awh, are often stories we hated while experiencing them. Experiences we laugh about now, were moments we rather cried about when we experienced them.
While we strife for perfection, the world gets colder. Society roots out the imperfect persons that do not belong in the perfect circle of men. The memories we have are less adventurous and decline in number when comparing stories from the generations before us. Because our reach for perfection, roots out problems that would otherwise be our lessons and become one day, our dear memories. We may have reached the moment we are playing it to safe.
When do we realize imperfections come after perfection, not before. The name of the status before perfection is reached should not be called imperfect, it should always be labeled as ‘unfinished’ instead. Imperfection comes after perfection. It is an invisible faith for anything and anyone to become imperfect. It means it has lived a life. Our notion of perfection is unfinished.
When do we finally realize, we won’t know laughter and joy where tears and grief do not exist?
PS “imperfection” is used as its meaning ‘unperfect’, or ‘not perfect’. I know… it is not a perfect choice of words.