Easy Does It

The other day I got the worst paper cut I’ve had. Ever. It was completely my fault. I was careless in the hazardous task of photocopying. There it was, a large stack of statistics (sorry my tree-loving friends). I just needed to take it from point A: the photocopier, to point B: the box to carry the finished product up to the press box.

I bit off more than I could chew. Underestimated the power of a stack of paper. I grabbed them; they slipped. That terrible feeling of flesh separating itself. I bled. Right down the tip of my middle finger so even now, as I type, I’m reminded by the sting.

I should have just taken a manageable stack. A few manageable stacks and the job would have been done, paper cut-free. Sometimes ambition can be our greatest friend and sometimes, our sorest enemy. Everything in moderation, right? I had too much.

I was reminded of this today as I spoke with my friend at work. She cited a phrase that more of us would do well to adhere to: done is better than perfect. I believe this was coined or certainly used by Facebook. I don’t know but I’d say their business model has turned out pretty well.

But perfect is that ever elusive place we pine for, don’t we? It’s why dieting, exercising, yogaing, makeuping and plastic surgerying are so popular these days. The definition of perfection may change from generation to generation but the pursuit of it does not. 

The pursuit continues because reaching it just can’t happen. Not here. Not now. We can mirror perfection, get close—so close we can taste it but there’s always something more, better, different…

So we adjust our standards. I’m not saying we give up, give in and stop giving a darn. Just realize the picket fence that never peels, the waistline that always appeals and the perfect spouse who’s even keel—those things don’t exist every day. Enjoy the moments they do. Don’t fret the moments they don’t. And just do your best. Done, after all, is better than perfect.

A Whale of a Tale?

I don’t know if you know this but I’m a self proclaimed Hanson lover. If there is such a thing. I don’t listen to them very much anymore but do make sure to attend any concert they put on in a city near me.

Legit Hanson fans will recall a very early album, Three Car Garage. On that album, there’s a song called Stories. It repeats a line over and over…and over (remember Mmmbop?):

Stories will be told

From when our children are young

Until they’re old

Lyrical geniuses those Hanson brothers were!

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Not that the Hanson brothers are awesome (although they are) but about my story. What’s going to be told?

Just this afternoon I saw a post about an amazing woman with an incredible story. At least the parts that have been told. Irena Sendler. She has an awesomely heroic yet tragic and inspiring story. Check it out if you can.

I wonder if she knew she was as awesome as she was. I think we all probably go through phases where we’re feeling pretty boss. Things are clicking in all the right areas, we’re utilizing our talents and time well—we’re getting stuff done, taking names and leaving a blazing trail in our wake.  Love to hear these stories and have these stories of awesomeness told.

Then there are those times when we’re barely getting by. Relationships are suffering, neglected and showing cracks at the seams. Work, money, play—all leave much to be desired. We can’t seem to do anything right and just don’t feel like there’s any way to rise above whatever’s crushing us any given day. Put the pen away for these stories. Feels like there's nothing to see, nothing to say here, folks.

Then there’s 'La-dee-da Land'. Or Goldilocks land maybe? Not too hot, not too cold, just right. Just a little complacent though. We’re not doing anything exceptional, good or bad. There’s not much to think about, stress about or do period because, well, we’re comfortable just getting by. Not much to write about here either.

Although boring, this is a great place to be—for a while at least. It’s got an expiry date though. Or at least it should. After the first month, you start to wonder what that steaming hot bowl of porridge would be like.  Worse, you start to expect it. Every morning you wonder if this, this will be the day you burn your tongue.

The beauty is, it’s in those uncomfortable experiences that stories are written. There is something to see and something to say.

Your tongue aches but you’ve got a tale to tell. And inevitably, a tougher tongue.

And better yet, you’re not the only one walking around with a burned tongue. That’s where relationships are really forged.  Some people in our story might even offer some soothing ointment to take out the sting. Some might toss some Tabasco sauce in our next bowl just to add insult to injury. We can’t always tell who’s who in our story or where our story’s going but we can tell who we are. How we act and react.

Stories will be told

From when our children are young

Until they’re old

I’m not sure what mine’s going to say but I hope at least it’s said. What’s your story? Is it all Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes like? Maybe a little Scarlet Letter or Les Miserables? That'd be epic if it was Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings-esque. Whatever it is, I hope you own it. It's the least we can do.