Perfect

Savor those little imperfections.

An overlooked spot of stubble from morning’s shave.

A line in a poem which doesn’t rhyme, but still feels right.

One dirty dish left in the sink.

A word on the tip of the tongue, which can’t make the leap into utterance.

A tinge of sadness in an otherwise joyous moment.

It is not “perfection” which makes us whole. It is the wholesome awareness that everything is perfect just the way it Is.

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