Striving for perfection

My parents know all too well that I'm anything but a perfectionist! My room is near enough a continual bomb site, my work ethic is often messy and erratic, and my motivation can be waylaid and misplaced. Yet despite all this, I get things done. I prioritise and even if it's at the eleventh hour, the work is in on time. I'm a stickler for deadlines. Give something to me later than you'd promised and I won't be happy. Equally, I respect the deadlines other people expect of me and this is why I always keep to them, no matter how hard I have to push myself. It's an important work ethic to have - one which will hopefully (if this economy ever picks up) follow you into your working adult life.

As humans, we seems to have an innate desire to strive for something beyond our capacity because we believe we can achieve something greater than our cognitive being. We're already pretty special - our brain functionality is outstanding, our bodily function near enough spot on, and our autonomy for life is amazing. However, the human mind always seems to wander off into a realm of something more...something greater than could be achieved.

One may pose the question - how can beings prone to imperfections possibly achieve something perfect? It seems nothing less than illogical. I agree, yet I simply like the idea of striving for perfection - it allows us to expand our world-views, to make us think even for a minute that the impossible can be made into a reality. I'm not talking about delusions - even when we indulge in the idea of a perfect world, we always know the harsh realities life faces us with. It's just nice to think, just for a moment, that there is a world where everything we strive for can be completed, and completed to the utmost minuscule detail of perfection. 
Yet, even this has its pitfalls. If this were the case, there would be no reason for humans to strive. If we knew how to complete every action to its most perfect state, then we would become bored with trying to work things out - we wouldn't want to try, for we would already know the answers. Life's mysteries would become a jigsaw solved in one minute. And in all honesty, I love a jigsaw that takes me hours to work out, even if it does frustrate the hell out of me.
 When I was about ten, for Christmas my dad received a 1,000 piece 3D jigsaw puzzle, and once pieced together, it would become a working grandfather clock. It stood at around three feet and it took my dad around two months to complete, but to his credit, he put it together piece by piece a little each day. I helped, then gave up after about a week. I got bored, as children do. But my dad taught me that motivation and determination, even in small doses is what makes the experience of life so rewarding. There may be an ideal of perfection that we have in the backs of our minds, but the experiences of working towards this image are more rewarding than the image itself. There must have been times when my dad couldn't find a jigsaw piece he wanted, and it must have drove him crazy looking for something he apparently couldn't find, but it was right there, somewhere amongst all the other pieces. 

What this analogy says to me is that amongst all the hustle and bustle of life, the answers are right there in front of you. You just have to be willing and determined enough to look for them. They're not just going to pop out at you - you have to do the legwork to deserve the answers.
So even though the jigsaw puzzle was completed, and it may have looked perfect; underneath there were tiny imperfections that were the foundations in the creative process. I've heard some people say that imperfections make something perfect. Whilst this is absolutely nonsensical, I see their point. In the grand scheme of things, imperfections become something of an insignificance, when you look at the great things humanity has achieved. Human institutions belonging to science, medicine, religion - none of these are perfect in and of themselves, but the grander things they represent and imply to do seem to have a certain awe or perfection about them.

So is there anything wrong with humanity striving for perfection? Not really, but it is important to know your limits and appreciate the journey as opposed to the destination. My dad built that clock for the joy of the endeavor. The finished ticking grandiose piece became the fruits of his labour and for a while, a piece of the household furniture - something to be proud of, but he was much prouder for having gone through the experience and toil of building it. There was also something ironic in spending so much time building something that would give the gift of time back!

 I believe that is humanity's privilege - we can be creators in our own right - however insignificant and we can look upon our work with wonder, humility, awe and fascination as we try and discover the origins from which we came.