When Navajo rug makers weave a rug, they always leave a break in the design of the border. According to traditional teachings, this small imperfection, called a lifeline, leaves a route for evil spirits to vacate the rug. Navajo basket weavers follow the same practice, making sure each of their basket patterns incorporates a small flaw somewhere to let out the evil spirits.
I learned about lifelines as a young girl visiting my cousins in Cortez, Colorado, just miles from a Navajo reservation. Before that, I was rarely satisfied with anything I made, because I could never see past the mistakes, no matter how small, that are an inevitable part of any handmade object.
After embracing the Navajo approach, instead of getting angry and frustrated at small imperfections in my sewing and knitting projects, I was able to let them be by telling myself they would let out the evil spirits. I came to love the small imperfections in handmade things because I realized they are precisely what distinguish the handmade from the machine made.
Years later, I have come to adopt a philosophy that not only accepts imperfection, but purposely welcomes it as a natural part of all existence, the thing that gives life depth and diversity. What is evolution but a response to a series of seemingly accidental variations (imperfections?) that ultimately result in fortuitous improvements?
In my travel experience, the events I remember fondly are never those times where everything went exactly as planned. Our most meaningful connections with others came out of missed trains, no vacancies, language difficulties, being hungry, being sick, getting lost…anyone who has traveled knows what I mean.
At a concert in the mid-1980’s, I was so disappointed to hear that the lead singer, Elvis Costello, was battling problems with his throat and would have to give a shortened concert. I felt cheated…until the concert started. His voice, usually so clear and bright, had a poignant quality that made every song sound more heartfelt and special. I could see the effort he was making to overcome his difficulties and finish the show. I was lucky to have seen him at less than his best. I have seen him in concert since, but the impact of that less-than-perfect performance has never been matched.
Around the same time, another band, The English Beat, had a popular song with the following lyrics:
I love you, faults and all,
I love your faults,
They make you you.
I heard that song dozens of times before I realized the full impact of the lyrics. One day (it was as if I was hearing the song for the first time), I realized that it is not only our strengths, but also our weaknesses, that make each of us unique. Without our flaws, there would be no individual differences.
When I had children, I came to feel deeply that it was my kids’ imperfections that endeared me to them. I think the true love of mother and father comes from loving your children, not in spite of their flaws, but because of them.
Being around children helped me see that each one has unique fears and frustrations, trials and tribulations, faults and frailties. Although I could attribute some of these to environment and parenting, I sensed that many were inherently part of the children, just part of being born a human.
I also found that embracing the beauty of imperfection in children helped me accept shortcomings in other humans…my parents, siblings, friends, husband and myself. I now try to remember that my response to imperfection in myself and others shapes my ongoing evolution as a person (growth from adversity).
Learn to weave some lifelines into the fabric of your daily life. Leave some room for the evil spirits to escape by welcoming the tiny flaws in yourself and others that make you human and uniquely different.
~Written in June 2002
School of Thought 