Chasing Perfection

Max patiently waiting for breakfast.

My golfing friends have always described the game as one perfect shot followed by a life time trying to repeat that moment.

This morning, I made the perfect breakfast. The over-easy eggs were exactly medium with a slightly running yolk and a bright yellow. The bacon was just this side of crispy, where the taste was more the fragrant smokiness of well cooked bacon than the harsh, burnt reminder of extra crispy.

Even the coffee was perfect. The beans were exactly fresh, the water the right temperature, and the golden ratio was, well, golden.

It wasn’t just the food. The house was heated properly, the sun streamed through the window at a wonderful angle, and the music was, well, perfect.

I stopped halfway through eating it and thought it myself, is this like golf? Will I spend the rest of my life working to repeat this moment?

No.

Our lives generally suck. Work sucks. Our friends suck (often without intent). Our family suck because they can.

Our lives are moments of perfection surrounded by a cornucopia of suck.

If all that mattered was chasing perfection, we would miss the beauty in the suck. Because suck isn’t bad. It isn’t evil. It isn’t the opposite of joy.

Suck is just that. Suck.

I realized half way through my perfect breakfast, that as soon as it was over, the suck would be back. And boy was it. A friend of mine is struggling. I can’t do anything to help him. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about the dominance suck is having in his life. All while I sat there and ate the perfect eggs. Drank the perfect coffee. Listened to the perfect song.

If we spent our time chasing perfection, we would find that perfection is not a state of being, but a moment in time. It begins when the club touches the ball, and ends when the ball stops rolling in the grass.

If I ate my breakfast ten minutes later, it would have just been a great meal.

Being perfect is about repeating something fleeting, not about being without fault or error.

As I handed the last tiny bite of bacon to my dog and stood up to put my dishes in the sink, I made a promise to myself.

I would no longer chase perfection.

I would simply enjoy it when it came around.