Perfection
I ran into a rant a few days ago from Joel. He was unhappy about a person's comment on a very peripheral aspect of his website. He was annoyed enough to point out that there is no such thing as true perfection because by "perfecting" one thing we, by definition, neglect something else:
If I was as much of a perfectionist as some here would have me be, I would never get out the door in the morning, I'd be so busy scrubbing the floors of my apartment until they sparkle and shaving every ten minutes and removing lint from my clothing with masking tape, and by the time I finished that I'd have to shave again and take out the trash because there was masking tape in the trash and re-scrub the floor because when I took the trash out I might have tracked in dust. And then I'd have to shave again.
This made me think of a few things: one was my brother bringing up Plato's ideas of Forms, the other whether true perfection in anything really exists. My own belief is that when one limits themselves to the natural world, true perfection does not exist1. It is similar to the concept in Calculus of a limit in that it is something that is approached but never quite reached.
So why is perfection a concept so natural? Has anyone seen a perfectly beautiful person? Then why is it so natural that we are constantly searching that out? In my work I can tell you that there is no such thing as perfect software and yet we always have perfection as an underlying benchmark in our conversations no matter how near or far it may be. There is a scene in The Last Samurai in which the samurai chief tells Tom Cruise (who can never really get away from being himself, ironically, as an actor) about a warrior who considered a life more fulfilled by searching out a perfect flower. I don't personally recommend the whole film but we all stab towards perfection despite culture and values.
It seems a burden sometimes too that we might be aware of perfection. The more ignorant we can make ourselves of it, the less likely the reaction of Joel when someone points out our tiniest of faults. I know, for example, many a journalist or writer would look at my blog and reach for a bottle of tylenol (or vodka. Or both.) because of the mistakes I unknowingly make. For a long time I'd do "this". A friend gently informed me that grammatically one should do "this." My ignorance isn't willful but it does keep any comments I get on grammatical, journalistic or writing mistakes less personal.
Indeed, there are some people whose strategy in life is to remain ignorant rather than pursuing something because knowing how badly they do something isn't very appealing to them.
This isn't my approach or, at least, I'd like to think it isn't. I think that perfection is a good burden even if it isn't something we can see in the natural world. Realizing the cases when it's close far outweighs the prospect of living in a world where nothing mattered. Realizing progress in that direction also adds a lot more esteem and satisfaction in life.
Last summer I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Much of this book escaped me - I may even revisit it this summer to see if I can pick a little bit more out of it. The author had an interesting premise though for perfection, one which provides a universal approach to it. I find it helpful to bear in mind. Pirsig, the author, believes that we take our problems and build them into "the machine." If we eliminate our problems, we don't build them into anything we do and hence the perfection we all so deeply desire. An art student says, "How can I paint a perfect picture?" The answer: make yourself2 perfect and then draw whatever you wish...
1Take yourselves beyond the limits of what is natural and perfection abounds.
2I doubt that any of us can "make ourselves" perfect. We may be perfect but not on our own.
11:17:29 PM 
|
