Progression not perfection

"There is no end

there is no finish line

there is no complete

there is just bumping up against new parts of ourselves in the dark and the light."

-Jainne Robinson

As I gaze out my window observing the first tender (slightly soggy!) buds peeking through the soil, I’m reminded of the nature of growth. Those fragile leaves didn’t burst forth in their full glory overnight - they incrementally awakened just as we incrementally unfold.

I recently started a new role at my day-job. My inner critic has kicked into high gear, and I find myself feeling worried that I'm not doing enough yet, or that I’m not living up to expectations. My boss reassures me, “All in good time”, and It's the advice I've been trying to give myself too. But it's a a whole different thing to truly know it deeply.

My anxious achiever personality often means I feel behind, like I should have more spiritual fruits or creative feats or financial markers checked off by now. But here’s what I’m learning: the timeline of soil and sun operates differently than the timeline of my too-eager mind.

It's absolutely a cliche, but there really is wisdom in appreciating the journey rather than demanding the destination. I recently came across the Jainne Robinson quote, “There is no end, there is no finish line...there is just bumping up against new parts of ourselves in the dark and the light.” How comforting to know there are always new internal landscapes to discover if we relax into organic expansion.

Just like a sprout (the new plant, not the brussel kind), if we harshly judge our progress for only having two leaves right now instead of a hundred, we deny the perfection of gradual growth. Two leaves are just enough for today - more will organically emerge in time if consistently nourished. We can appreciate exactly where we’re at while still moving forward. The key is gentle patience with ourselves while continuing to feed our soils.

This nurturing allows us to lift beyond linear achievement timelines that so often induce stress. There is no rigid ticking clock within our souls - our revelations occurs through a meandering inner terrain without beginning or endpoint. Sometimes three steps forward, sometimes two steps back. But always another tender shoot poking through if we remember our basic goodness.

What if "perfectly imperfect" was the mantra that allowed our most authentic unfolding? Or how about "progession, not perfection"?. Not bashing ourselves for human frailties, not demanding blooms before their season - but progress through compassionate nourishment. That to me is the garden I wish to tend.

Let the leaves emerge slow and sure, two by two - judging nothing but appreciating everything that surfaces in its turn. Keep nurturing, keep the faith of forward motion - however gradually - There will always be more tender shoots poking through if I keep calmly nurturing the soil of my inner world, keeping faith in the ongoing harvest.

Some days this means two baby leaves peeking up. Other days a dozen robust sprouts. Sometimes an entire bed overflowing! But resisting comparison allows me to offer empathy for the seasons of my expansion - both when I’m in creative bloom and when I’m pulling a few weeds in winter. It’s all growth. Compliments to the blossoms, and compassion to the compost turning nutrients in the earth. One continually feeds the next.