Perfection - the state of being without flaw or defect. No, this isn't about the 18-0, Super Bowl-bound New England Patriots. Their record is perfect, yes, but this is about real perfection. If you ask a group of people what perfection is, or about the state of being "perfect," you're likely to get many different answers. In more or less words, most people would also probably tell you simply that perfection does not exist. I can recall times when I would fail at something when I was younger (yes, it's happened), and my mom would sometimes tell me, "Well, no one's perfect." It's my opinion that she was not entirely right (not entirely wrong, either, though).
Ask one thousand women to describe their perfect man, and you'll get one thousand different answers. You see, perfection does exist; perfection is in the eye of the beholder. A perfect America for me would not be a perfect America for you. Opinions can be similar, surely, but no two people envision the exact same thing. Ask a panel of ten artists to draw a dog, and you'll get ten very different pictures. Can it be agreed upon that all ten pictures represent a dog? Sure. But are all ten exactly the same? No. In this sense, everything is subjective, as no one sees everything from the same perspective as someone else. This could clearly be applied literally to everything, but for now let's stick to the idea of perfection.
A warm summer night with a steady cool breeze; July 31, 2008, in East Rutherford, NJ. That might be perfect, for me. Perfection does exist. That scene is perfect, for me. Perfection is subjective, though, because it may not be perfect for you. Something that is perfect for a single soul is not perfect for everyone. Perfection is not something that all are supposed to agree upon. Perfection is simply what's right for me, and what's right for you.
The last example may not be the best, though, and now I'll shoot myself down. I'll still hold on to the notion that perfection exists, and that it's highly subjective, but that scene I described is not perfect, to me. Often we find something that, with a little work, a little bending, fits our mold for "perfect." Is that thing truly perfect, then, or are we contorting it in our minds to see it as so? That night I described (aside from the weather) has been more-or-less given to me, and I deemed it to be perfect.. Had you asked me six months ago what my idea of a perfect night was, or the perfect setting for a Bruce concert, that scene is not what I would've detailed for you. We all-too-often view something that is magnificent and decide that it is perfect. That night might be the closest to perfect that I could ever have. Perfect, though, would mean I would not be 200 feet away from the stage in a stadium; perfect might be sitting in the sand of Asbury Park 15 feet from the band, with the stars glistening overhead.
Believe in perfection, for it does exist, but don't force the label on something that isn't perfect.
7 comments:
Unfortunately, most of this is irrefutable. For some reason, I want something that is not qualitative to be perfect for everyone, to not be subjective. But I guess Perfection is in the eye of the beholder.
I think the "extra step" is really interesting, also. The distinction between perceived perfection and actual perfection is an important one. I think it says a lot about us as a species. Most of us long for absolution and completion. So when something appears absolute or complete, we make it so. Very interesting. Very good.
I really don't know what to say, it's such a good feeling to hear that I've written something regarded so highly (by anyone, but especially) by you, Joe. Thank you for the compliments and the constant pressuring to write.
I've been thinking about this. I really want something to be perfect. If ten artists each paint their own interpretation of a dog, then why shouldn't each dog be considered perfect for everyone? It's perfect in what it is, isn't it? Like an ellipse is not a perfect circle, but each ellipse is a perfect ellipse.
I'll chew on that for a bit. I suppose then everything is a perfect something, with that ellipse example. This squeaky chair is not a perfect chair, but it is a perfect squeaky uncomfortable wooden chair.
I have a feeling that the more we beat this idea to its core, the less meaning it will have (ie: we'll end up saying something to the effect of "everything's perfect and nothing's perfect"), but I'm not sure if that's good or bad, yet.
Enjoying the conversation as always, though.
Wait, wait... I think you kinda talked me in to that, touche. What's to say that one ellipse is perfect, and another ellipse is also perfect. How can they both be perfect and both be different at the same time? I guess that depends on the definition of a perfect ellipse, right? A perfect circle has every point equidistant from the center, regardless of size, so with that definition we're disregarding size. Maybe my definition of a perfect squeaky uncomfortable wooden chair would also then have to include the size of the chair, which would vary from person to person, even if we all agree that it's a squeaky uncomfortable wooden chair.
The size of the chair is a parameter that doesn't matter. You had it right the first time. I like the conclusion that has been reached.
Fair enough. Fundamental disagreement of two contrasting ideas. Good day, sir.
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