“I feel so horribly imperfect,” wailed the student one morning.

“And why would that be?” asked the Tao, curious.

“Everyone else is so perfect in every way: they have perfect lives, perfect friends and family, perfect looks, and, why, they even have perfect children with perfect 4-point-oh GPA. I have none of those. What should I do with my imperfect life, O Tao?”

“Are you sure that everyone but you is perfect?”

“Everyone but me! I can see it in their eyes, when they look at me. She is so imperfect, their eyes seem to say.”

“If they are all perfect, does it not make the perfect ordinary?” pondered the Tao.

“How so?” asked the student.

“They all are so like one another. They all have their perfect lives that are made from the same mold. They always have the same routine: the Monday morning blues, the Tuesday evening helping the children with homework, the Wednesday making dinner, the Thursday evening washing clothes, the too-tired-to-make- love Friday nights, the Saturday Kumon classes, and the Sundays dreading the Mondays. That is perfect in your eyes, but it is really just uninteresting, ordinary life,” said the Tao, waiting for his words to sink in.

Then he continued: “You, on the other hand, are imperfect and unique. Your days are filled with possibilities, your nights are adventurous sometimes, and feverishly creative at others. You live a different, unpredictable life that the perfect people wish they could. So, perhaps you should celebrate your imperfection!”

“I feel so gloriously imperfect,” smiled the student one morning.


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