February 26, 2018

Today I spent about an hour talking about everything two dreamers talk about with Kenneth. Big things, where we said the words “you’re probably gonna think I’ve finally lost my mind when I say this” or “I’m not sure if I’ve finally gone over the edge...” and then we go on to dream a little more.

While we were talking Kenneth said this (and I’m paraphrasing): “my jewelry isn’t symmetrical, my beadwork isn’t precisely symmetrical. They are never perfect.”

Except because of that, they are.

And this is what I want you to hear, today, right this moment. Because I look around and so many of you, my friends and family, are hurting. Looking around is painful, for all of us, because it seems everywhere we look the hearts of so many of us are just wounded. They are still beating strong but man, we are hurting, and hurting, deeply.

So can I try and encourage you maybe in a way you haven’t considered? The entire reason I said all that was to say this... that need you have to be absolutely 100% perfect, that “thing” inside that may both whisper and scream “you aren’t good enough unless you are perfect...” that voice... you realize that voice is a lie, right?

Let that shit go. Right now. Let it go. Let it go like it will kill you. Because it is, and it will.

I am messy. Not just messy but the kind of messy that makes a grandmother roll her eyes, shake her head and start praying in tongues. I’m “that” version of messy. And I get it, because I know how bad I need grace. I know how bad I need to give myself grace. It is constant. I spent so long, so many wasted years trying to measure up to false standards. False standards I had created out of thin air. And I failed. Over and over. Every time. I ran the races of “being enough” or “getting it right” and I failed. Miserably. I took ownership of a lie. I picked up a massive weight that was not mine to carry, nor is it yours to carry, either. So let it go.

Striving for false perfection like we do, that is a form of bondage. We will never be perfect. Not one of us. Not Walking Pants, not my art, not my ability to do relationships... my life will never come close to perfection... and that, in and of itself, is it’s own Perfection. Because acknowledging that, finally stepping out of that lie, that means forgiveness. It means understanding.

It means Freedom. Let go and get messy.

Daryl


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