Nothing about this is perfect.

I planned the photoshoot for this journal around this beautiful old magnolia tree in my neighborhood. I referenced past photos in my camera roll to pinpoint a week that it would be in bloom. I walked or drove by it a few times a week to check on its progress and was delighted to see little fuzzy catkins opening up into creamy pink flowers in early April. But then, we had a cold snap, and a hard frost killed all the flower buds overnight. It was a little disappointing. It was sad to think that maybe the magnolia tree won’t bloom at all this year. I kept checking on the tree anyway and about a week later, I noticed new catkins emerging between the browning blossoms. 

I had been hoping for flowering trees and sunny spring weather to capture the beauty of spring.  But on the day of the shoot, the weather was overcast and rainy. We almost rescheduled, but then I thought - is this actually imperfect? Or is this just spring being spring? We decided to embrace the dreary weather for what it was. When we walked to the magnolia tree on the day of the shoot, we found exactly one pink bloom.

This is the second issue of my Midseason Journal and the fear of failure is real. I could list half a dozen things that didn’t go according to plan so far this spring. I could list another half dozen little things I’d change if I could have a do over, but I won’t bore you with those details. I know that I’m just one person, doing my best to make something worthwhile and figuring things out as I go. It’s not going to look perfect and that’s okay.

It’s scary to change or to start something new. It often feels uncomfortable to exist in these liminal, in between spaces in the seasons of nature and of life. We want to know when we take a leap of faith, our vulnerable selves will be met with the warmth of the sunshine. 

But we don’t always get to know if there will be sun where we are going. Sometimes we just have to unfurl, take in our surroundings and accept what is, before we can continue finding our way forward.

I want to be more like that brave pink magnolia flower. 

She knows what became of her forebears. But that’s not going to stop her from blossoming. 

I decided to stop being a perfectionist a few years ago. Looking back, identifying the downsides of my perfectionistic tendencies and being willing to let them go was the first crack that let the light in, to illuminate some of the darkness I had to address to be able to step into in this next stage of my life.

I think it’s a natural part of getting older to have this realization that perfection doesn’t exist. Though I remember at first, accepting that felt a little like admitting defeat. Then, I had the experience of working really hard for something where ultimately, the results were out of my hands, enough times that the lesson stuck.

For a long time, I knew what I DIDN’T want to do (i.e. repeat the same mistakes that led me to burn out the first time) but I couldn’t figure out a way to move forward in a healthy, sustainable way. If I can’t offer the world a perfectly packaged, cohesive and understandable version of myself, what do I have to offer?

The answer that’s come through is:

Devotion & trust

Devotion to bringing my creative ideas into the world, knowing that this will not look perfect, my progress will not be linear and the time/energy I have to give will wax and wane, but making the choice to commit anyway. Devoting myself to the practice of “ diligent imperfection” - in the wise words of Alyson Morgan.

Trust in myself and that I have been given certain gifts for a reason. And that I don’t need to be able to clearly see the end goal to start pursuing what makes me feel most aligned and alive now. Trusting that if I simply keep showing up and putting in the work, the rest of my path forward will emerge in its own time.

Some journal prompts for your own spring reflections

• In what ways am I already practicing diligent imperfection?

• Where in my life is perfectionism tripping me up or keeping me from pursuing something?

• What would it look like to release my grip on the “outcome” and become devoted to the process instead?

• What are some examples from my past that prove that my intuition is trustworthy?

• What is one, small aligned action I can take now to move forward with devotion and trust?