Marilyn: Perfectly Flawed
Story Two
Marilyn came home after school with the second-place ribbon she had won at the art show. She set the ribbon down in a place where she knew her father would see it when he returned home from work. We were hanging out in her bedroom when we heard him come into the house.
He never said a word; never acknowledged her prize. She looked at me and said, “He would have said something if I’d won first place.” His silence told her, yet again, that she was loved for what she did, not for who she was. It confirmed the lie she believed to be true, that she just wasn’t good enough.
Disappointed but not deterred, Marilyn continued creating. After a while, she switched from drawing to wood carving. She began creating delightful, whimsical wooden sculptures. Each piece is unique. Each piece tells a story. She gives her carvings names such as A Dog with a Bone, Chicken Soup, Rabbit with Beagle, Sitting Duck, and Five Ducks Chasing Beagle, to name a few.
Years later, sitting in her studio, I asked what made her switch to wood carving. Marilyn explained that when she draws, she can never capture the image that is in her mind onto a piece of paper. The image loses its perfection in the translation from visualization to paper.
With carving, before she even picks up a block of wood and a chisel, she knows that it will be impossible to perfectly replicate the image. Because, in reality, perfection is only an idea. And there is no way a carved dog will look like the dog in her imagination.
One of Marilyn’s ornaments hangs on a White House Christmas tree as part of a permanent collection. And yet, before she begins a new piece, she still hears the voice of her now-departed father, telling her that whatever she creates won’t be good enough.
I am a recovering perfectionist. I’m recovering from the belief that I am not perfect enough to even be called a perfectionist. Whenever I pause to look at one of Marilyn’s carvings that are scattered throughout my home, they fill me with joy and happiness. Perhaps it is the lack of perfection that resonates so deeply within me. I wasn’t born a perfectionist, no one is. I feel that her work touches that part of me that existed before the need to be perfect began seeping into my heart.
Perfectionism is only an idea in your mind, impossible to achieve. It’s not an attainable goal. But perfectionism can break your heart and the hearts of others who love you.
I believe Marilyn’s work has the power to help heal broken hearts.Marilyn came home after school with the second-place ribbon she had won at the art show. She set the ribbon down in a place where she knew her father would see it when he returned home from work. We were hanging out in her bedroom when we heard him come into the house.
He never said a word; never acknowledged her prize. She looked at me and said, “He would have said something if I’d won first place.” His silence told her, yet again, that she was loved for what she did, not for who she was. It confirmed the lie she believed to be true, that she just wasn’t good enough.
Disappointed but not deterred, Marilyn continued creating. After a while, she switched from drawing to wood carving. She began creating delightful, whimsical wooden sculptures. Each piece is unique. Each piece tells a story. She gives her carvings names such as A Dog with a Bone, Chicken Soup, Rabbit with Beagle, Sitting Duck, and Five Ducks Chasing Beagle, to name a few.
Years later, sitting in her studio, I asked what made her switch to wood carving. Marilyn explained that when she draws, she can never capture the image that is in her mind onto a piece of paper. The image loses its perfection in the translation from visualization to paper.
With carving, before she even picks up a block of wood and a chisel, she knows that it will be impossible to perfectly replicate the image. Because, in reality, perfection is only an idea. And there is no way a carved dog will look like the dog in her imagination.
One of Marilyn’s ornaments hangs on a White House Christmas tree as part of a permanent collection. And yet, before she begins a new piece, she still hears the voice of her now-departed father, telling her that whatever she creates won’t be good enough.
I am a recovering perfectionist. I’m recovering from the belief that I am not perfect enough to even be called a perfectionist. Whenever I pause to look at one of Marilyn’s carvings that are scattered throughout my home, they fill me with joy and happiness. Perhaps it is the lack of perfection that resonates so deeply within me. I wasn’t born a perfectionist, no one is. I feel that her work touches that part of me that existed before the need to be perfect began seeping into my heart.
Perfectionism is only an idea in your mind, impossible to achieve. It’s not an attainable goal. But perfectionism can break your heart and the hearts of others who love you.
I believe Marilyn’s work has the power to help heal broken hearts.
With Love & Energy by the Pond,
Laurel
