half perfect

Mary Oliver's poem "Messenger" is speaking beautifully to me about this month's theme at the studio, contentment.

This part is especially poignant:
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.

My BFF gave me a great gift this year. It was a frame with two photos in it, one photo each from our respective wedding days. They were over ten years apart.

We noted we both look better now than we did ten years ago. "Except for our eyes" I remark. "Do you consider those bags or wrinkles?"

I'm officially in my mid 30's now. I certainly don't feel old, but for the first time ever, I feel like a full fledged adult.

I'm finding that with each year I settle more into mySelf. There is more acceptance and less judgement on my part.

I'm finding that while I still feel driven in the pursuit of a deliberate and delicious life, there is more permission on my part.

Permission to not have it all figured out.
Permission not to always have it together.
Permission to be half perfect.
Or perfectly imperfect.

But to sink, surrender, and dissolve into
a sea of compassion.
Embracing myself (wrinkles included) and others with great tenderness.

Contentment is "keeping my mind of what matters."

Which is indeed my work.

Which is living deliberately.
Learning from my life experiences
and sharing from my soul
about how it is we can use this body, this breath,
this heart to shine
and be dazzlingly alive.