Philosophy of Imperfection
Work has been busier than expected lately. Last minute projects. Tight deadlines. Up early. To bed late. Writing from the crack of dawn. It’s both exhausting and exhilirating. I am still in such awe that I am making this freelancing venture work. And work it is. Work, work, work.
Nevertheless, there has been at least a little time for knitting. Despite the hectic schedule, it was a surprisingly relaxing weekend and I was able to get through several of the pattern repeats on Ruby Joy. This shawl has been progressing so beautifully and I have been feeling so good about myself as I speed along. I’ve been checking my stitch count at the end of each row and it has (with the exception of a couple of rows requiring some tinking) remained right on target. I do visual spot checks here and there to make sure my yarn overs are lining up as they are supposed to be and they have been.
Then sometime on Sunday afternoon I looked down and I got that sinking feeling. Something didn’t look right. Worse, something didn’t look right about 15 rows back. Something about 15 rows back on my MOHAIR and silk blend shawl. Further inspection revealed that it wasn’t really terrible exactly, just a minor glitch. Only two yarn overs on one row that are off by one stitch. The other yarn overs on that row and every other row are perfectly placed. Really, it is just these two yarn overs. Hardly noticeable. Except, of course, to me.
I sat there for a number of minutes just holding the shawl in my hands contemplating my options. I could always tink back 15 (or more) rows, stitch by stich by tedious stitch, and fix the two yarn overs. Or, I could leave it as is. I also briefly toyed with the idea of slipping those few stitches off my needles and trying to work down the 15 rows to fix it. I even started in on that crazy plan only to realize that the problems inherent with mohair and fixing mistakes would hinder me from doing anything other than getting frustrated and destroying the shawl in the process or possibly setting it on fire when it proved impossible to do so.
So, I took a deep breath and just kept going. There is a mistake in my shawl and I am trying to ignore it. I keep telling myself comforting stories about how in some cultures artisans will purposefully introduce a flaw into an object they are creating because there is no such thing as perfection. I remind myself that this is probably good therapy for the whole accepting that life isn’t perfect stuff I’m supposed to be working on. And I am distinctly shutting out the voices that are telling me there is no point in having a shawl made out of such exquisite yarn if you are just going to let it have a mistake out there for all the world to see. I told that voice to shut the hell up and went and ripped out my unsatisfying socks hoping that it would relieve some of the tension. So far, that strategy has worked.
Even so, I know this is going to continue to bother me, at least a little. I know that someone is going to compliment me on the shawl when it is all done and I am going to want to show them the two deviant yarn overs to temper their praise. Sort of like a perfectionists cautionary tale. Yet, even with all of that, I honestly can’t face tinking all that mohair. It’s too disheartening.
This got me thinking about my tendencies toward perfectionism. I know we all have them to some degree. But it seems that some people are just better (or maybe more confident) about determining in what situations it is okay to relax your expectations and “let it go.” I sometimes feel as if I am afraid that letting my guard down in one instance will cause all my standards to rapidly deteriorate in every other area of my life (another symptom of an all-or-nothing approach, it would seem).
I find myself often stymied by perfection and unable to move ahead because of a perceived inability to achieve some ideal. And I’ve decided that is no way to live. It is singularly unsatisfying. So, I have been slowly cultivating a philosophy of imperfection over the last year or so.
A philosophy of imperfection doesn’t merely tolerate the messiness of life and the chaos that can errupt without notice. It should help you find a true sense of joy and unexpected wonder in these situations. Because, it is true — there is no such thing as perfect. Except maybe being happy with things as they are.
On Sunday when I gave myself permission to just keep going, there was a little shock of thrill that went through me. Wow. Just don’t fix it. It was so simple and so freeing. And it just turns the whole notion of perfection on its ear.
April 19th, 2006 at 11:54 am
The Navaho Indians made a mistake deliberately in everything they made. It was the spot that let the “evil spirits” out of the object. At least that is what I tell myself every time I make a mistake! Really, there are mistakes that no one but you will notice. And then there are mistakes that are obvious and need to be ripped out. Only you can decide which is which.
April 19th, 2006 at 1:36 pm
Bless your heart! That’s a tough call to make, I know; good on you! Now, you have to do the other half: promise yourself to never, ever point out the boo-boo to anyone, and over time, it will lose its power to bother you.
Oh, but you can show me, if you want, and I’ll show the owie-booboo on my own garnet mohair stole. The one I discovered only three rows on, and really, totally COULD HAVE fixed, but didn’t. The one I’ve vowed never to point out to anyone who admires the garment. But I’ll show it to you, and they can be our little secrets.
April 19th, 2006 at 2:47 pm
I don’t seem to have any tendency towards perfectionism. And I can confirm that letting go of perfect and aiming for beautiful, or good enough, or whatever, is very nice. Remember, no one is going to stare hard at all the little details of your shawl. They are going to look at the whole thing. If 2 wonky yarn overs had put the whole pattern off, they would notice. But 2 wonky yarn overs that are just wonky in that one row will get lost in the overall beauty of the shawl. The pattern is a guide to creating something beautiful not a prison.
April 19th, 2006 at 7:48 pm
If you tink that, I shall send the stashweasels after you.
April 19th, 2006 at 7:50 pm
You have a new reader! (That’s me.)
I’m a big believer in “spirit holes”, but I don’t put them in on purpose. I’m a technically proficient knitter, but I’ve never yet made so much as a sock that didn’t have at least some little wonkiness somewhere. When I see I’ve made a mistake, but it’s a small one, I leave it for the spirits. I do fix the big mistakes, but consider — a mistake in mohair would have to be pretty darn big for all the world to see it.
April 20th, 2006 at 6:10 am
Tough call. I would probably leave it, despite my perfectionism. The Persian rug weavers did the same intentional mistake, so that G-d wouldn’t be mad at them for presuming to make something as perfect as He would make.
April 21st, 2006 at 10:38 am
Good for you! A tribute to your humaness!
I once had an email friend to whom I admitted that I had made a couple of small mistakes in a EZ Shawl (from the Knitters Almanac) that I was knitting. I told her that I had renamed the shawl Humaness, as in nobody’s perfect. I never heard from her again. Interesting - I concluded that perhaps she only wanted perfect friends.
Keep up the good work!