On Perfection and Quarantine by Emlyn Polatty
One of my many hobbies picked up in my sixteen years of existence is hat making, the method of choice being on a circle loom. Any loomster will tell you that this is a commitment- you’re talking hours of winding yarn, picking loops, eyeing stitch counts. You have to be patient. My last hat I spent about a week on; I was trying out a pattern with a new stitch, the purl. I viewed numerous tutorials and spent seven days hunched over my lime green, 32-peg loom trying to make it perfect. When the hat came off the loom it was about ten stitches too long. It looked like a smurf hat, and as amusing as that was, it was ultimately unwearable. I was, needless to say, rather disappointed.
Quarantine is a little bit like this. I wake up every morning with great expectations for the day. I am going to be productive if it kills me. At least, that’s my motto until nap time hits. To be perfectly honest, it has been incredibly difficult for me to produce anything on any sort of reasonable timeline during this pandemic. My school work all seems irrelevant, blog posts are voluntary, and I’d rather be baking some muffins or watching The L Word instead. It’s even been difficult to access God and my faith these past few weeks,a time when all of the busy people like me can’t use a packed schedule as their excuse for not clocking in a few hours with Jesus. With all this time on my hands shouldn’t I be doing more?
Ideally, I would be furiously studying for my classes, preparing for the ACT, researching colleges, working on my relationship with the Big Man, and meditating or something. But I barely have the energy to take a walk. I should be better.
In the Navajo Nation , weavers are taught that there can never be a perfect piece. Professional weaver Ron Garnanez put it like this:
“The traditional teaching of the Navajo weaving is that you have to put a mistake in there. It must be done because only the creator is perfect. We’re not perfect, so we don’t make a perfect rug.”
This group of people strive for the flaws that make me feel inadequate, and their work is as beautiful as ever. What a poignant reminder that in the tapestry of our lives, there are meant to be loose threads, missed stitches, because that is what makes the work whole. That humaness is what makes it worth seeing. So, during this time of quarantine, and even afterwards, cut yourself some slack. You can’t be perfect, but your best effort is good enough. Even if you aren’t taking on a new Bible study or meticulously keeping up with your studies, you are doing well. Remember to give yourself grace, and remember to look for the mistake in my next hat.
Ideally, I would be furiously studying for my classes, preparing for the ACT, researching colleges, working on my relationship with the Big Man, and meditating or something. But I barely have the energy to take a walk. I should be better.
In the Navajo Nation , weavers are taught that there can never be a perfect piece. Professional weaver Ron Garnanez put it like this:
“The traditional teaching of the Navajo weaving is that you have to put a mistake in there. It must be done because only the creator is perfect. We’re not perfect, so we don’t make a perfect rug.”
This group of people strive for the flaws that make me feel inadequate, and their work is as beautiful as ever. What a poignant reminder that in the tapestry of our lives, there are meant to be loose threads, missed stitches, because that is what makes the work whole. That humaness is what makes it worth seeing. So, during this time of quarantine, and even afterwards, cut yourself some slack. You can’t be perfect, but your best effort is good enough. Even if you aren’t taking on a new Bible study or meticulously keeping up with your studies, you are doing well. Remember to give yourself grace, and remember to look for the mistake in my next hat.
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