Perfection. . . . .

I am not perfect.

Is anybody?  Some might say,  Oh yeah, well, you know, Jesus."

But there is this thing about studying to be a Commissioned-Lay Minister.. and that is that it keeps me mindful of what I say and how I do things.  So everyone and everything is keeping me on my toes.  It's not like walking on eggshells, but a subtle reminder that there is this way that I want to be in the world.

And still, I am not perfect.  I probably won't be perfect when I complete the program.  Perfection.

It is illusive, probably because it is an illusion.

Yet, my ego wants to be good.. . wants to have all the answers; wants to look flawless and never wants to be sick. . ever.  So I will refrain from apologizing for missing Sunday, Dec 3rd on Becoming.  I think that the sermon will keep until I can say all I really want to say.  I have a lot I want to say about power.  This concept haunts me day and night.  I will get back to that, later though.

I used to think that to be a moral, ethical, or spiritual leader or healer(?) that the person talking to me had to be perfect.  I find that funny, now.

The best lessons and stories teaching about how to be a moral, ethical, or spiritual person come from mistakes and sticking with the ideal goal or imperfect relationship. . . and dare I say also, figuring out how to make it work.

I still like to fix stuff.  And, Wow, do I have stories about fixing stuff..electric thermostat's, heat shields under cars, loose door knobs... If it's broke, it can't get worse, I say, so I tear the thing a part and put it back together. That is an engineering mind, I guess.  It does make a mess and sometimes it could be worse than when I started. Somehow, that never stops me.

People however never like being fixed.  What's wrong with people?

Exactly!  That's the thing.

People are a whole lot of everything from generations past to their current environment.  People are microcosms of the universe in addition to the multi-generational experiences of the folks who came before them. And new people are coming through all the time.

And new people being born into an imperfect world come with stuff.  They are not blank slates as once was thought.  Given particular circumstances, the older folks might just see some behavior in the new ones  that are similar to the ones they knew.  When my brother was born, my grandmother would say, he looks around here like he's been here before. And I was said to be an old soul.

And the old ones look with hope for the future in these new people.  We are always hoping for miracles.  I think we forget that we are the miracle, too.

No need to get out the tools to fix people.  We just gotta hang in there with each other...build some relationships, care, love.

We are the star stuff and the hope of a way that lives and breathes in the present moment. All of the stardust and generations of folks coming into the uniqueness that is the only you that has ever been. And so, here we are.

And how sweet is that. . .