I better not say what I think. Fuck that! For decade upon decade I have kept my beautiful mouth closed for the most part. Time for the lion’s jaws to open and my truth to roar!! Roar baby roar!!

Perfection. What is perfection? What is perfect for you may not be perfect for me. We are multi-dimensional beings, changing and evolving every minute of every day, year after year until our bodies “give up the ghost” so to speak. I am not the same as I was yesterday, nor will  I be the same as I am tomorrow. Perfect to me is a level of comfort, acceptance perhaps. Perfect for this moment may be a firm, crunchy apple, sweet yet tart, yielding to the bite of my teeth sinking into its taunt white flesh; my growling tummy welcoming the pulpen mass into her gurgling hollowness. Whilst perfect for tomorrow may be the gale force wind and blinding rain stinging my face and making my eyes scrunch up in protest to the sheer force of Her breath. My sodden form, hands balled up into wet fists, scurrying along the wet, slippery clay path strewn with rocks and aged tree branches looking for shelter from the abrupt spring storm. Hair in a fury with no hood for protection, raising my face to the sky bravely taunting the wind, as if to say “come and get me, I dare you!”

For years I have strived for ‘perfection’. Striving to embody the perfect child, demure in her shy sweet ways, little white Mary Jane’s scuffed at the toe and trying to hide behind her Mothers’  wide, comforting muskrat coat. The perfect employee, diligent in her task at hand, prompt, courteous, always the professional. The  perfect girlfriend, acquiescing, forgiving, accepting everything; putting everyone on a pedestal and my self-perceived unholy self at their graven feet! The perfect housekeeper, heaven forbid what my friends and family might think if the bed wasn’t made or the sink empty of dishes. The perfect cook, the perfect baker, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect friend. The perfect everything! Fucking exhausting it was. I blew my self up!  Everything kept inside, fermenting, ruminating, rotting, until the container of me couldn’t hold it anymore. The leaking, blistering, seeping poison of emotional rot began to show itself in mental stress and addiction.

What about me? Where in all of this so called perfection, have I made room to be ‘perfect’ for me? In all the trying, reaching, berating, self flagellation, and vainly trying to please everyone around me, where have I made room for acceptance? Acceptance of myself just as I am.  A growing, changing, evolving, maturing, flowering, loving being of creation. Entitled, yes entitled, to be happy.  It is my birthright to be happy. To live in joy. In all the striving to be perfect for others, I have forgotten about me. Gorgeous creature of magnificent love I AM.  When I surrender to my self limiting beliefs, self imposed by a culture that is on the fast track to annihilation of their own species, I am not enough.  When I live in my own skin, in my own vast limitless heart space, breathing in the breath of God and living in the bosom of Mother Earth, I am enough. I AM everything and I AM all.

What if there are no mistakes, no right or wrong. Jesus of Nazareth taught, “Do not judge lest you be judged. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.” What if perfection is life itself? What if life on earth is living with your heart wide open, accepting, giving, receiving, loving, with no expectations. What if perfection is living with honour and integrity of self. What is important to me may not be important to you. Sovereign love of self. Independent, accepting of all — WITH NO JUDGEMENT!

I am capable of this perfection! I am perfect for me.

I AM whole and complete in my Love of Self  ❤

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