When I was ten all I wanted was to learn how to whistle. I didn’t know the air
pushing through my lips had been to heaven and back a million times.
We think we want perfection until if falls flat against our ears, disappoints us
as colored rectangles on canvas. The truth of art lives only in its imperfections.
Why do you think Jesus loved sinners so much? Of course we want forgiveness.
What is repentance but a willingness to make love with our imperfections?
Navajo rug makers thread a spirit line that trails beyond the geometric pattern,
so the weaver’s spirit can escape the life-draining snare of perfection.
I had a lover who tried to devise the perfect life. She lured me like a bear to honey
and had me dozing before the trap snapped. I crewed off my leg to escape.
Hafez asleep at the tavern door dreams of heaven. He knows he will miss
the half-empty wine bottle at his feet less than life’s exquisite imperfections.
When God asks what we did with our time, tell him we strove for that quality
of greatness that only comes after a long nap in a hammock under the elms.
Al Fournier
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