What is perfection?

Trying to translate something I have written in Swedish to English.

Am so used to have the ability to choose my words precisely. As if I, in Swedish, paint with words.

I often say that I am in love with words, and that this love is met.

But then again, using another tongue, my vocabulary isn’t the same.

My possibilities to express myself properly shrinks.

And within me I hear a voice whispering about failure.

And I start to reflect on what perfection really is?

What if I write a text in English and consider it good enough, even if it’s not perfect, even if I don’t find the proper nuances, even if I have to take shortcuts?

What would happen if I didn’t strive for perfection?

In my life, outside the words, I gave up the aim for perfection years ago. It happened when I asked the question: Being perfect from what perspective? What is my perfect? What is my moms?

What if I see my words in English like I am practicing something, like I try, and with every try something other or new might emerge?

What if I am kind to myself, even when it comes to errors in language?

What if?

What if that is perfection?

Reflections from your love warrior

Charlotte Cronquist