A Better Imperfect


What does it mean to be perfect? What definition does the word conjure in your mind? What do you picture? A movie star… a musician… an athlete? Maybe you envision a painting or sculpture?

Technically it means, “the state of being free from all flaws and/or defects.”

Now I don’t know about you… But I fall pretty darn short of this definition. My ego is fully aware that I am not perfect. Yet despite being less than perfect my positive outlook on life somehow manages to chug along just fine.


Okay… I mean… I’ve been told my curls are pretty darn near perfect. Though I’m sure that evaluation doesn’t extend to the rest of me.  All you curly hair coveting folks out there would be singing a different tune. If you ever experienced curly hair on a humid day.

You wouldn’t think having them as so “perfect” then. Looking like there is a drunk bird’s nest sitting atop your head. Just… look at that picture up above! Curls going everywhere.

Any way… sorry. Lil bit of a tangent there. Back on topic.

I once briefly mentioned “Wabi Sabi” in a post transplant interview. While talking to a reporter about Midna, I.P.F, life after organ surgery, etc. Trying my best to explain my outlook on things. (It really must have been a slow news day.)


But Wabi Sabi is basically about finding the perfection in imperfection. To accept and even celebrate those imperfections. A way of making peace with how things are.  Rather then bemoaning how we think things should be.

It doesn’t mean that someone shouldn’t work to improve their current situation, fix things that need fixing, or dream about a better tomorrow. But just having a mentality that allows for finding joy and contentment in one’s current situation.

When I first started putting the insides of Midna together. I was ill prepared for crafting cabinets inside an old school bus. I mean… I had never made cabinets before period. Let alone cabinets in a space without a single straight edge or square angle to work off of.


The fact that they wouldn’t be Instagram perfect was pretty much guaranteed. But what did that matter in the grand scheme of things? It didn’t…. So I proceeded to make a  lot of saw dust (I wore a respirator, don’t worry.) and eventually something resembling cabinets emerged.

Sure they’re not “perfect.” They catch a little as they slide in and out. They’re not as square as a hand free of medicine tremors probably could have made them. A few things don’t align as well as I’d prefer…

Thats okay though… The cabinets get the job done, the drawers serve their purpose and I posses some skills, if rudimentary, that I didn’t before. Why be disappointed in their imperfection… rather than happy with what I’d accomplished?


There are of course little things I will continue to try and improve. Currently I’m replacing the wooden drawer slides with metal ones. So they won’t swell and stick when it’s humid out.

Sure this will make them a little less “imperfect” than they currently are… and I will be a bit less “imperfect” at cabinet making. Sort of  a “better imperfect” than I was. But still not perfect. Which is okay.

Basically what I am trying to say… in my imperfect rambling way. Is that looking at things in a positive light, even when there is plenty of easily available reasons not to… Makes one’s life so much closer to “perfect”, than demanding actual “perfection” ever will.

For example…


No matter how much I work out, my chest will be still be covered with scares… but I feel healthier, my news lungs will last longer, plus a six pack and scars looks better than a beer belly and scars.

I have to take a hand full of medicines several times a day for the rest of my life… but I live in an age where medical treatments have extended my days, postponed my dirt nap for a little while longer, and given my more time with friends and loved ones.

I’ve spent a ton of time in the hospital and will undoubtedly spend a ton more there… but I’ve also meet a bunch of people in the hospital, both medical staff and other patients, who are simply amazing folks.

Pulmonary Fibrosis sucks, not being able to breath sucks, dying sucks… but there are people, like my donor Ja’Lynn, willing to give folks like me a second lease on life.


Perspective means so much in our lives. Whether we are looking at our health, our careers, or the whopperjawed cabinets we built for an old school bus named Midna.

It’s not always easy. There are things like IPF out there that will place limitations on our lives. Things that cant be ignored or shouldn’t be made lite of. Things that will make us want to scream into the void before we can regain our composure. But that is completely normal.

Just don’t dwell in that space. Let yourself enjoy life… Find and celebrate the unique perfection in life’s imperfections. Do the very best you can with what you’ve been given. And in the immortal words of Bobby McFerrin, “Don’t worry, be happy now.”


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