We're Not Perfect — We're Human

How do we learn? By doing — including those things we have to learn how to do before we can do them. As Aristotle said: "For the things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing them." Yes, everything is best learned by doing.

A primary reason people don't do new things is because they want to be able to do them perfectly — first time. It's completely irrational, impractical, not workable — and yet, it's how most people run their lives. It's called The Perfection Syndrome.

Whoever said we had to do it perfect?

Our parents. And if not our parents, there were those bastions of perfection — school teachers. (The ones who would point out that the last paragraph should read, "Whoever said we had to do it perfectly?' They would also point out that paragraphs should be more than one sentence long.)

For the most part, we weren't taught to set goals and to achieve them. In addition, we had to achieve a goal in "the right way." Perfection was not just "do it right," but also "do it my way." Merely reaching the goal was not good enough. The goal had to be attained the way someone else (whoever was teaching us) thought was the "best way" (that is, their way).

We say, don't worry — just DO IT!

Don't worry about "right way"; don't worry about "my way." DO IT! When it's all said and done — when you've reached your goal — you can look back and discover what your way really was. As Margaret Mead said, "The best way to do field work is not to come up for air until you're done." Amen.

Most people have an image of themselves that's "perfect." If they can't perform according to their own imaginary standards of perfection, they "take their ball and go home." As Cardinal Newman observed, "Nothing would be done at all if a man waited until he could do it so well that no one could find fault with it."

"Men would like to learn to love themselves, but they usually find they cannot," Gerald Brenan explained. "That is because they have built an ideal image of themselves which puts their real self in the shade."

This "ideal image" of ourselves — the one that's "perfect" and won't let anyone see us as other than perfect — we must send on a long field trip somewhere. Maybe Alpha Centauri.

The only way to even approach doing something perfectly is through experience, and experience, as Oscar Wilde observed, "is the name everyone gives to their mistakes."

Mistakes are excellent teachers. Sir Humphrey Davy wrote, "I have learned more from my mistakes than from my successes." Make as many mistakes as you can, as quickly as you can. "Show me a guy who's afraid to look bad," said Rene Auberjonis, "and I'll show you a guy you can beat every time." Set out each day to look foolish, stupid, blundering, awkward — anything you consider the perfect representation of imperfect.

In this way, you shatter the false image of a "perfect self," and get used to being a stumble-through-it, catch-as-catch-can, make-do, seat-of-the-pants, mistake-making human being — just like every other successful dreamer.

After all, it's not perfect being perfect.

Be Prepared to Be Scared

When we put ourselves on the path of expansion by committing to a goal that's outside our comfort zone, one thing's for certain — we're going to be given a lot of opportunities to expand. One additional thing is certain — we are not going to be able to choose all those opportunities for expansion.

Our choice is either "expand" or "contract." If we choose "expand," we will expand — and we'll always wish there were more comfortable ways of doing it.

Let's say someone's goal was to get her body in shape. The way this would happen, she imagines, is in a sparkling health club with chrome-plated barbells and Tom Cruise holding her feet while she does situps. How, she wonders, will the money "materialize" so that she can pay for the queen's ransom of a membership?

Meanwhile, in the first week after committing to her goal, her car runs out of gas, and she has to walk five miles to the nearest phone; an emergency happens at work and she is asked to fill in, packing boxes in the warehouse; her freezer was accidently unplugged and all her ice cream melted; and, on the weekend, she goes on a spiritual retreat, hoping to get some rest. All weekend, however, was devoted to what they called "dharma yoga," which sounded nice in principle, but in reality was digging ditches, cutting down trees and helping a pair of not-so-busy beavers build a dam.

At the end of the first week, she had lost five pounds, taken an inch off her waist, and looked better — but felt sorer — than she had in years.

This is how it happens. We get the Dream, but we don't get to dictate every step toward the Dream.

We can, of course, refuse to do the uncomfortable activity placed in front of us. When we know something might move us a step closer to our goal, and we choose not to do it "because it's uncomfortable," we are also choosing not to pursue our goal. It's that simple.

This refusal has two results. First, we are not that one step closer to our goal. Second, the opportunities to expand — to reach the goal — will, in the future, be less significant, and presented less frequently.

When we uncommit through inaction (honoring the comfort zone), the success fulfillment mechanism backs off, too. Our success fulfillment mechanism is not there to hurt us, it's there to help us. If we indicate — through nonaction — that we aren't ready to take the steps necessary to reach the goal, it says, "Fine. Let me know when you're ready."

It's as though we went to a friend's house for the evening. After asking three or four times in the first hour if we wanted anything to drink, and our response was always, "No, thank you," our host would, naturally, ask less frequently, and, eventually, stop.

Whatever you find most uncomfortable, be willing to do it. You may not have to do it, but be willing to. Your willingness will be tested. If you say, "I'm willing!" and the opportunity arises and you're not, then, evidently, you're not.

When a given portion of the comfort zone is being expanded, it always seems as though expansion of any other part would be more tolerable, more acceptable. We want to put it off, postpone, and do it later, when some other part of the comfort zone can be challenged.

In fact, when that other part is challenged, it will seem as though this is the worst part of the comfort zone, and any other area would be better than this. Discomfort always seems more tolerable anywhere other than the place in which it's being felt.

The solution? Plan to be uncomfortable. Understand that it's a necessary part of the process for success. Learn to be comfortable with discomfort. Have compassion for the part of you that's growing. The first step is a willingness to be uncomfortable.

The next step is to realize which emotion from the comfort zone you're feeling each time you feel "uncomfortable." Fear? Guilt? Unworthiness? Hurt feelings? Anger? Observe it. See if you can locate it in the body.

As we mentioned earlier, fear is probably the most frequently felt of the comfort zone's emotions. Not only do we feel fear, but also fear every other comfort-zone emotion. Unworthiness, for example, seldom has to make an appearance. The fear of unworthiness is enough to keep most people in check. If you feel fear, ask yourself if the fear is being afraid of something, or it's being afraid of feeling another emotion.

The final step is turning your perception of each "negative" emotion into its positive counterpart. Learn to see fear as excitement, guilt as the energy for personal change, unworthiness as the discipline to live your Dream, hurt feelings as caring, and anger as the energy for outer change.

This reprogramming can take some time. Do not, however, wait until you have the "conversion technique" mastered before moving — steadily and persistently — toward your Dream. Some people are past their first Dream and well on the way to their second before they can even locate the comfort zone's feelings in the body.

For now, be willing to be uncomfortable. Be comfortable being uncomfortable. It may get tough, but it's a small price to pay for living your Dream.

Guilt (again)

We're going to briefly discuss guilt — again. It's probably the most insidious citizen of the comfort zone.

Fear increases as we come closer and closer to actually doing the thing we're afraid to do. Let's say we're afraid of walking up to a stranger in a supermarket and saying, "Hello." We have decided that meeting strangers is a necessary part of reaching our Dream (a Marriage/Family dream, for example). So, the next "perfect stranger" we see in a public place — we are committed to walk up and say, "Hello, I'd like to meet you."

There's the stranger and here we are, with nothing between us but the canned peas. Emotion: fear. No, it's not excitement — no matter how many times we've read that chapter, Fear is the Energy to Do Your Best in a New Situation. This is a new situation, and this is fear — panic.

We know, however, that we must do this thing. We have gone over it and over it in our mind and with supportive friends. This may or may not be our perfect stranger, but this is the perfect opportunity to "move through fear," to "feel the fear and do it anyway."

No matter what happens, at least we will have learned to meet new people, so that some enchanted evening, if we see a stranger across a crowded room, we can fly to their side and make them our own, so that all through our life we won't have to dream all alone.

We take one step in the direction of the stranger. The stranger's head moves — maybe to look at us! We grab a can of peas and begin studying the label intensely.

This is silly, we tell ourselves. We are an adult. We are committed. The blood courses in our ears. Our heart is pounding. We take charge of the situation, and we act.

"Do you think these peas are as good as the ones on sale?" we ask the stranger.

"Gee, I don't know," the stranger replies. "I only buy fresh peas myself." We notice the stranger is wearing a wedding ring. Hummm. Not the perfect stranger after all.

"Oh, of course," we smile. "Thank you."

That's a fairly typical move-through-fear situation. Before it, we can pep-talk ourselves, and we can rah-rah our way through it. We can physically feel the comfort zone becoming more and more dense as we begin doing the thing we're afraid to do. That's all fear.

Guilt is all the rest we live with after.

Guilt picks its own moments — not moment, but moments, lots of them. Two minutes later. An hour later. A week later, at three in the morning, when we wake up in a cold sweat. Two weeks later, when we can't get to sleep.

We are berated for moving through the fear. We are reminded of a story on the news about someone meeting another a person in a supermarket and the terrible things that happened to them that could have happened to us. Guilt projects an endless succession of "What-ifs" across our inner nightmare gallery.

If we don't give in to the chatterings that we shouldn't have done it in the first place — if we hold firmly to the idea that walking up to strangers and meeting them is part of our Dream, and that we're going to continue doing it no matter what guilt says — then the guilt changes its tack.

"Why didn't you see that the stranger was wearing a wedding ring?" guilt asks. "Why aren't you more observant? You went through all that for nothing. Besides, your commitment was to say, 'Hello, I'd like to meet you,' not to discuss canned vegetables. You can't even do that right."

And on and on.

If the guilt gets us on any of these, and we agree to be more, well, something next time — something less than what we know we could be — guilt floods us with positive feelings. We feel a sense of freedom and joy that must parallel enlightenment. Euphoric feelings rush in.

"Of course," we say, "this restriction is me. I choose to have it. It's part of who I am." With each statement of limitation, we soar higher and higher.

Guilt cannot only make us feel terrible, it can also make us feel wonderful.

Guilt is a trainer with both sugar cubes and a cattle prod. When we tow the mark — the confines of the comfort zone — we get sweetness. When we "overstep our bounds," we get punished.

The next time we don't walk up to a stranger, we are rewarded with a good feeling and a pep talk. This is the booby prize of life.

So, how to use guilt for ourselves? As the old Hindu saying says, "It takes a thorn to remove a thorn," or, as we say in the West, "Fight fire with fire." Start feeling guilty when you don't take steps toward your Dream. Feel all those guilt-things when you honor the comfort zone.

Yes, for a while, this will put you in any number of dammed-if-I-do-and-dammed-if-I-don't situations — you're going to feel guilty no matter how you act. Eventually, however, guilt will be the staunch ally to your Dream that it is currently to your comfort zone.

This is also a place where external support comes in handy — a friend, counselor, therapist or support group — to encourage you to continue taking risks, to continue moving toward your Dream.

Response Ability

Responsibility is a misunderstood word. Most people use it to mean blame. "Who's responsible for this?" means "Who's to blame for this? Whom can I punish?"

We are experts at finding blame. We blame others for not making us happy, for letting us down, for not fulfilling our dreams. If people become involved in personal growth or therapy of some kind, they frequently don't become more responsible — they just find new things to blame. Childhood! Parents! Heredity! Environment!

Let's blame our parents for programming us to blame others, shall we?

Enough! It's time to grow up. If we want to play adult games — living our Dream — we must play by adult rules. One of the primary adult rules: We are individually responsible for our own lives.

Responsible simply means, "The ability to respond." In any of life's challenges, opportunities or disasters, we can respond in whatever way we choose. Our response dictates what life hands us next. Our response was either a workable response (it took us one step closer to our goal) or an unworkable response (it did not take us one step closer to our goal).

It's not a matter of right/wrong, good/bad. It's a matter of practical analysis of the situation. From that situation, we have the ability to respond again. When the outcome of that is known, we will either be closer to, or farther from, our goal. Then we have the ability to respond to that.

And so it goes. The one common denominator in our lives, as adults, is us. In everything we experience, there is one person who is always there. It's not mommy and it's not daddy — it's us.

In addition to what we can do physically about a situation, we also have the ability to choose what our inner response to that situation is.

This is a big one. It sounds like a radical new idea, but it's not. It's centuries old. The idea is this: what happens in the outer environment has nothing to do with how we respond to what happens in the outer environment.

Dr. Albert Ellis has been a major proponent of this theory in our time. The title alone of one of his books activates comfort zones: How to Stubbornly Refuse to Make Yourself Miserable About Anything — Yes, Anything!

In reading that title, most people begin to list all those things they are entitled to feel miserable about. These are usually catastrophic losses, and, yes, we do feel bad about those. For significant losses, there is a mourning process we must go through. (If you're faced with this situation, please read a book by Melba Colgrove, Ph.D., Harold H. Bloomfield, M.D., and Peter McWilliams entitled How to Survive the Loss of a Love. 1-800-LIFE-101.) We're not talking here about significant losses.

We're talking about the daily slings-and-arrows for which we feel quite justified in blaming someone or something outside ourselves. Yes, it was the milkman's fault the milk wasn't delivered, but our negative inner reaction to that situation is all ours.

Are we going to cry over undelivered milk? If we really want the milk, we're going to have to make alternate arrangements, and those arrangements are going to have to be made regardless of how miserable we make ourselves.

This is a big concept. It challenges us in a fundamental way. To reeducate ourselves is not easy. Our culture supports and encourages our deeply rooted programming that what happens "out there" is directly connected to what happens "in here." (See? We just blamed the culture for making it difficult.)

Please remember: it is OK to feel good when things go bad. Being content, satisfied and joyful no matter what happens is a radical concept — but it's also basic rule of adult life.

Without this rule — to at least aspire to — we live in a land of Victims and Victors, of endless finger-pointing and name-calling. Even if we can affix blame, so what? If we need to get the milk, we need to get the milk. If you want to fulfill your Dream, look more for "What's next?" than "Who's wrong?"

Our inner life reflects our outer, and our outer life reflects our inner. We suggest making changes in both. When a situation arises, ask yourself, "What response can I make — inner, outer, or both—that would get me closer to my goal?" These are more useful questions than, "Whom can I punish?" (Most often, the answer to, "Whom can I punish?" is us. It's guilt's favorite question.)

Start by forgiving your parents. They didn't have a manual on raising kids—not a complete one, anyway. Besides, they didn't raise us, we raised us. We chose from all that happened to us to sink or swim, rise or fall. Many great people — however you'd like to define the word "great"— had more miserable childhoods than we did, and somehow they managed to be great.

We have the same opportunities for greatness. They happen every day, every minute. Do we learn a lesson, or blame the teacher? The teacher could be a flat tire, a broken agreement, or undelivered milk. Do we look into the mirror and change ourselves, or do we break it? Do we pursue our Dream, or have all the reasonable reasons why not?

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