reply to post by arpgme
Thank you arpgme for reminding us about this. There is in fact nothing imperfect as each thing is holding other things perfectly in place in the grand
tapestry of the Universe.
each and every thing is perfect
This is a hard thought to accept but simply consider what a world filled with only (man's idea of) perfection would be like. How would we even be
able to measure perfection (if we really wanted to)? We would soon create imperfection to bring back some interest into everything again, replace
perfect mass-produced plastic or flawless porcelain bowls, with hand-made pottery ones. etc.
Fu Ryu. The elegance of imperfection is itself the mark of character, and indeed a comfort to us supposedly imperfect humans, so we can each be
different, one to the other, and are still all coloured with the marks of our own perfect imperfection. Like Hui-Zi's crooked and knotted tree.
So we should seek the purpose if need be of each thing, look small and big, observe, really see.
I have friends who complained about a "noisy" cheerful bird that came and sang early every morning outside their bedroom window. Then one day I went
to hear this singing and indeed it was loud and cheerful, and understandably an annoyance to those intent on sleeping. But after a short while I
realised this fellow (I think it was a he - seeking love perhaps) had quite a collection of notes and a repertoire not expected with this common bird
that usually just has a few squawks.
I got them to listen to his efforts. He would start as if he was warming up, slowly building up his song, note by note. But even after he got the
rhythm right, he would falter after every few cycles and produce a comical imperfect sequence. Soon everyone was listening for these flaws and
Cheerful started producing much interest and mirth as he voiced his morning song.
Later I heard that each morning, the friends would wake up to his first notes, listen for a while, chuckle at his mistakes, and then continue sleeping
very peacefully.
Until ...
A distressed phone call. The bird was not there that morning, nor the next and every morning after that. I guess he had met his end but his cheerful
song was sorely missed.
Good news is, the friends reported that the Son of Cheerful emerged after a while, going through an initial training of his vocal gymnastics, but
ending up with a similarly confused, but individual song that once again blessed their mornings.
The endearing qualities of imperfection ...