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Welcome to this issue of Simply Celebrate:

* Ring of Truth
* The Simplest of Celebrations
* Simple Words
* Mailbox
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I'm 43 years old and I'd never looked at the night skies through a powerful telescope before. Over the last few months I'd been reading that this is a great time to see Saturn from the local observatory. I decided to give it a go.

My beau and I planned to ride his motorcycle across the Bay Bridge to Oakland, knowing the ascent up the hills to the observatory would be an added treat. The night was clear and surprisingly warm for San Francisco. Once we made it through the traffic on the Bay Bridge and exited into Oakland, heading into the hills, the air smelled great - hints of pine and eucalyptus wafted in.

When we got to the observatory, we were shocked to see long lines of people waiting at the large telescopes. "What in the world...!?" Dozens and dozens of people from all over the Bay Area had come to see the stars on a Friday night.

Wow. How fabulous to think that all these people chose to look at the stars over all the other entertainment possibilities. That could be a story unto itself.

But wait, there's more.

And wait we did. We waited and waited and waited and waited. We chatted with the people in front of us. We chatted with the people in back of us. We wondered if we would actually make it to the telescope before Chabot Observatory closed.

As we got closer to the small ladder that led up to the telescope, I could hear people's oohs and ahhs. Small, audible intakes of breath.

And then it was my turn. I climbed the stairs and crouched into position to look into this massive telescope. And there it was ... ! What??? I looked and looked and looked. There was a perfect picture view of Saturn, just like the planet looked in my first science book back in fourth grade. The rings were perfect. The round shape perfect. Hey, wait a minute. Is this some kind of a joke? I wanted to look at the back of the telescope and see if there was a picture of Saturn taped to it; I was sure what I saw wasn't real.

I was disappointed.

I got to see a planet that is hundreds of millions of miles away - and I was disappointed. Afterward, I kept saying, "it looked too perfect."

***
I've been thinking of that experience, that perfect planet, ever since. It has me stumped. I mean, I'm one of those people who, (like dear Spalding Gray) is always in search of the perfect moment. I'm always on the lookout for everything to align and look exactly like I picture it. So what gives with this Saturn business? Why wasn't I thrilled?

Is it possible that perfection isn't all that it is cracked up to be? Could it be ... boring? Less likable than something with a few interesting nicks and some crooked lines?

Imagine, if this is true. It would give me permission to let go. To invite my friends over even if the house isn't clean. To send off that email without checking it ten times. To serve a soufflé that has fallen a bit flat. (Okay, or more likely in my world: to serve eggs that are a little overdone.)

Why, if it is true that perfection is less interesting than imperfection, I could send this ezine out right now, with no more worries about "is anything missing, misspelled, misspoken?

Wheeeee!

Today. Can you try this? Let go. Let yourself or someone you know be imperfect. Look around you and notice the beautiful things around you that are imperfect. ( I see some flowers, past their prime, who wilt and sag, but whose purple color is vibrant. I see my son with ice-cream dribbles on his shirt, whose mischievous grin melts my heart. I see an organic apple with a few bruises.) Today, look for ... and appreciate ... the imperfections around you that make up your own perfect world.

If you look closely at a tree you'll notice it's knots and dead branches, just like our bodies. What we learn is that beauty and imperfection go together wonderfully.
—Matthew Fox

The fact of storytelling hints at a fundamental human unease, hints at human imperfection. Where there is perfection there is no story to tell.
—Ben Okri

Will you write to me and tell me your experiences with imperfection? I love to hear from you.

Sherry Richert Belul
Simply Celebrate
Sherry@SimplyCelebrate.net
3219 Mission St., #3
San Francisco, CA 94110-5029


Copyright 2008 Sherry Richert Belul, Simply Celebrate

Sherry@SimplyCelebrate.net

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Reprinted from "Simply Celebrate," a free email newsletter by Sherry Richert Belul, Copyright 2007.

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