I look all around me and notice the imperfections and flaws in nature.
The sky is grey and thick on a day we all expect it to be bright and sunny.
A plant has leaves that curl and look burnt or dead, yet this plant thrives and grows.
The bark of a tree has been torn where a little boys sneakers skidded on decent from its vast and loving branches.
Thick, disgusting scum builds upon the surface of a small, neighborhood pond.
The rank smell of a skunk invades the car through the open window.
The dafodils have wilted as quickly as they sprouted, taking with them the lovely, yellow hue, leaving behind brown, crusty remnants of springs beauty.
The tree in the backyard is half dead, and looks strange with half of it's branches full of puffy, purple clumps, and the other half naked like winter.
My amazing, perfect doggy has a short tail, which is hardly but subtly noticable, and was half price because of this strange fact.
Nature is simply imperfect, flawed, and balanced. It doesn't need to always look pretty or smell nice to be genuinely perfect in its own right. It simply must be that which it is each moment along its journey of change, growth, development, and reaction to life around it.
I look around at people and I see their imperfections and flaws as well.
A woman I know is depressed. She gets caught in negative thought patterns that swirl in her head, and wake her up in the middle of the night. She fights depression like some fight acne, and others fight for weight loss.
The little baby girl I care for cries for her grandma sometimes. She cries like I cried over my lost love. She cries with such passion, and pain, and drama until she falls alseep in my arms still longing for her grandma.
My brother smells horrible after hockey. Just the thought of that smell makes me gag. The smell is that of sweat, mold, mildew, feet, and ass, all wrapped up in a bag with something that died.
My grandmother has a new knee. I guess knees just stop working and you have to get a new one like any old pair of shoes. It takes a bit to learn to walk in your new knee just as it takes time to break in new shoes.
I wake up each day with hair that looks as though I put each finger in its own electric socket.
I know people who are never excited and rarely sad. They are always OK.
I know someone who is afraid of change, and another who is afraid to really open thier heart and love deeply.
My shoulders and neck are vulnerable and dont work so great lately.
People are imperfect.
We have flaws.
We don't need to smell nice, look nice, or work nice all the time.
We are changing beings who grow, react, and evolve.
We are actually perfect with our imperfections.