The whole notion that I can force perfection on anything is a denial of the already perfect, natural, and uncontrollable flow of the universe.
Everything is mixed together in a “soup of everything,” a swirling mixture that gives rise to unpredictable moments that are neither right nor wrong but simply are. They’re the result of the bouncing and ricochet of things off of things all following the benevolent laws of creation.
Perfectionism is the hopeless desire to stop this flow, to steady the jostling, to stand still while everything moves.
No wonder we perfectionists feel worn out and beaten down: trying to stand still in an unstoppable flow is a great way to feel like you’re getting pummeled.
The universe will not hold back its gifts. They’re coming no matter what. I have two options: either try to hold them back and get knocked on my butt or flow with them and have them show up softly, silently, right where I need them, right on time.