I'm perfect vs Imperfect

Perfectly imperfect in every way ....

Hello Wildlings,

This was the lake this morning - utterly still and restful in all it’s shades of grey. Perfect in fact. A perfect frozen, winter lake. I turned and walked along the forest path, back towards my house. My dog was leaping in front of me, hopping about and eating the snow and then I heard this. It a Willow Tit, calling to another (and a slightly whiny dog.)

Perfect.

I carried on along the path and was amazed to hear the snow making yet another sound - one that I had not heard before but that I totally loved. It was very ASMR! Like walking on super crunch brandy snaps that then kicked over others in tinkling crumbs.

Can you hear it? Incredible. Perfect!

Now, I could stop all the images and videos here - perhaps if I was an influencer, I would …. however I am not an influencer and I try not to curate my life for the external gaze of others. I want to be truthful, to show truth. Where I live is beautiful and wonderful, filled with forests and lakes and also this.

Yep.

That is a sofa that has been dumped at the junction of the forest roads.

Sweden is not perfect and yet is perfect.

This is the the knot, the thread, the story, that I want to gently tease out here - this idea of perfection. The idea of being:

The perfect mother
The perfect wife
The perfect husband
The perfect father
The perfect cook
The perfect football player
The perfect child
Or having the perfect child
Or life
Or body
Or house ....

I believe there is perfect imperfection and imperfect perfection.

Let me explain…

I reckon all trees are perfect and all flowers - in fact most of what exists external to being ‘made by man.’ I never look at a tree and think, ‘oh goodness, your trunk is too thick and your branches need to be rectified.’

All trees, irrespective of whether they are small, large, gnarled, leafy or ‘needly’ (I know but I cannot think of a word to describe conifers …) are perfect. And their perfection lies in their uniqueness - their differences and this is where the story of perfection has become knotted and warped.

Because it has become a mono-narrative. A single narrative.

There have been many articles written on women’s beauty recently. Much of this has been triggered by certain stars have similar plastic surgery procedures. Buccal fat removal, lip fillers and ‘deep plane face'-lifts. Yes, these are all things and the result is a type of single narrative of what beauty is. In the past, perhaps the 50’s and 60’s, many of the stars had very unique features, think of Mae West and Greta Garbo, Sophia Loren, Raquel Welch, Marilyn Monroe. There was a huge difference in how they looked. And whilst their body shape tended to be of a certain type, this was not always the case. Audrey Hepburn being slim and less curvy etc. With the onset of social-media and the ‘Instagram Face’ we are now facing something very different - or rather - not different. We are facing a lack of difference in what ‘perfection’ can be.

In the same way that a bio-diverse environment is healthier - be that in our gut or in a forest - it same with the concept and idea of perfection. Let me share the first time I had a complete eureka moment about this.

I am in Wa - it is a town in the Upper West Region of Ghana and I am outside in the ‘courtyard’ of the house we are staying in. It is private, so I am sunbathing. On my body I have a mix of olive oil and vinegar that my mother once recommended as being excellent for tanning. I am also on the cabbage-soup diet. Needless to say the air around me does not smell good. My friend Ursula comes into the courtyard. She is eating koose - savoury, deep fried bean-cakes - her face is covered in a cream to bleach her dark skin lighter. I think to myself - I want to be brown and skinny, Ursula wants to be pale and fat - WTF?

I remember that moment so clearly, the sudden realisation that we are caught, confined and defined, within a story that we were not part of creating.

It was the start of me wanting to become the narrator of my own life. And the start of me realising the power and agency of the narratives we live within and that live within us - without us even knowing.

Such as the story of perfection.

My beautiful bonus son and his wife recently had their first child and it has been a struggle. They live about 5 hours drive away and her parents about 8 hours drive away. My bonus son was admitted to hospital 10 days after his son was born to have emergency gall-bladder surgery. My little grandson has struggled to put on weight and his mom has been breast-feeding, pumping milk and topping up with formula every 3 hours. He is just coming up to 4 months now and of course she is exhausted. She said to me, ‘I know other mom’s can do this alone but it is so hard.’ I told her that no other moms can do this alone, nor were we meant to. Sweden is held up as being one of the best countries when it comes to maternity/paternity leave and childcare provision. Kind’o perfect in a way and yet this report came out in 2024, showing Sweden to be in the top 3 in Europe when it comes to mothers experiencing mental health issues.

So, obviously Sweden is not perfect for mothers and again I believe this is to do with the story of perfection. Sweden is stuck within two dominant narratives; Jantelagan which is a type of unspoken ‘law’ whereby you should not think you are better than anybody else and should try not to stand out or be different and Individualism. It is actually one of the most extremely individualistic countries in the world. As such people believe they are responsible for themselves and their own success - they should not rely on others, including the state. You can see these two narratives do not really fit well together - ‘You are nothing - You are the only one that counts in your life -' kind of thing. Of course in England we are stuck in the two opposing narratives of pride and shame - not great either!

These stories are all around us, shaping what we think about ourselves and what we think about others - telling us what is perfect and what isn’t.

My bonus son, his wife and their child are all perfect - in that wonderful messy, pukey, chaotic, start of being parents way. What joy. What pain. What doubt. What love.

As I sit here writing this the words of Christina Aguileras song, ‘Beautiful’ suddenly comes into my head. Perhaps I leave it with her to tell you that perfection exists in so many different forms. Certainly in you, reading this, right now.

Take a listen here

In tender hope

Kx