I’m not perfect. I never have been. I probably never will be. Yet I continue to require perfection of myself. I set my goals too high. I demand nothing but the best and I won’t settle for anything in between. I become frustrated when I desire something that my mind cannot comprehend, or create. Instead of giving up and assuming that what I desire is impossible, I let it eat at me.
Imagine that I desire to fly. At first I think it’s impossible. Then I think a little more and decide that maybe it is. I consider building a set of wings and flapping them vigorously like a bird. But I don’t know anything about wings. And my friends all think I’m crazy, so they’re not even willing to provide insight. And even if they were, they don’t know anything about wings either. So I research. I study birds. I study how their wings are made, how they flap, how they soar into the sky. Then I make my own pair of wings. As you remember, however, I don’t know anything about wings. So I fail. And then I try again. And I fail again. And finally, I get something that works. It isn’t perfect, but it works. I put them on, and flap as hard as I can. And I fly…. about two feet off the ground before I realize my arms are very tired and that I’m not going to get very far this way. I try to make the wings lighter and more efficient, so I don’t have to flap them as hard or as fast. I succeed slightly… but it isn’t enough. I decide that I need a mechanism to flap the wings for me. Some kind of motor. But I don’t know anything about motors. And, since my friends all think I’m crazy, they still aren’t willing to help. So I study motors. I study mechanics. I study physics. I figure out how to build a self flapping wing. But now, my once simple wing construction is a very complecated mess of gadgetry. So complicated, that it would take so long to build, that it isn’t even worth it. Especially since, in the end, it might not even work. I build it any way… or at least start to. But the further I go, the more I realize that this flapping mechanism will require far too much gas to operate. There has to be another way — a better way. But, by this point, people don’t just think I’m crazy, ranting everyday about how I will fly soon — they KNOW I am. And they aren’t willing to waste their time to help me discover a better method to propel myself. And everyday hang-gliding looks more and more appealing. But inside, I know it isn’t the same as flying. It isn’t the same at all. And I want to fly. If I could just clear my mind enough to think through this, I’m sure I could come up with a better way. But my mind is so clouded with frustration, and failure, and the idea of future failure.
I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing–Tom Petty
One day, I’ll realize I can’t do it. And then the frustration will end. But not before I am forced to come down.