I’m not perfect. She’s not perfect. On the point of neither of us being perfect, we are a perfect match! What is perfect about it, is that we are both semi-painfully aware of our own imperfections, yet we have decided to just get on with life and enjoy it while we may, as best we can.
Part of living as best we can for both of us is to find our sexual opposite and enjoy intimate connection in all its challenges and glories. Intimate is the ultimate of course, but success in that sphere is linked to success in many other areas of compatibility. She and I have found that too. We have each developed our knowledge and skill bases to the point of having good value to others, she in nursing, I in teaching, writing and cultural awareness. In some ways, we are far removed from our roots in relatively poor, relatively uneducated families. But neither of us has torn ourselves away from the honest values of those same families. That’s a very basic connection. It is a compatibility that underlies so much else about us.
I’ve always felt that life is tough in many ways. There is no need for me to make anyone’s life tougher. I try to smooth paths where they may be smoothed. Clip the ivy approaching menacingly along the sides of the path. Ease progress along the path, not just for people like me but for people very unlike me too.
When we are not struggling to survive, it is easier to become the part of nature that creates the rainbow by being the observant third point of triangulation. It is the part that notices and enjoys the experience of the crow that caws to announce its presence in the still, deep cold of a winter morning. It is the part that stands in awe as brilliantly white, spirit-geese, maybe they were swans, fly in high formation, seemingly self-illuminated against the dull gray of a night-time sky. Much left to see, much left to hear, much left to feel, to appreciate and enjoy.
I see it. She sees it too. She smiles at me and my heart is warmed. It would be imprudent for me to go further along that revealing path. Let’s just say that we both work to smooth the way for each other to find us, to find our essences, as we open ourselves to love.
Lucky? Yes, lucky, but our search for each other was essentially open-hearted and when we found our counterpart and began tallying our compatibilities, the experience began resembling a slot-machine payout. But it was much better than a gambling win. Gambling wins pay only money. Money is important, but love is what it is finally all about. Three months into this relationship and the payout keeps pouring its delicious self all over us, like warm, fragrant water in a double jacuzzi.
I enjoy the concept of wabi-sabi. It is a Japanese aesthetic principle that embraces flaws as valuable unto themselves, as parts of a larger whole. Obviously, one cannot enjoy a ceramic pot that has been broken into pieces. But one that has been lovingly mended and pieced back together, perhaps even enhancing the mends as evidence of the love that reassembled the whole – that can be treasured for all that it represents.
Most mature adults have some evidence of having been mended in one way or another. Most mature adults have imperfections that become obvious with time and exposure. I am not perfect. She is not perfect. We are wabi-sabi. We are perfect in our acceptance of our imperfections!