So much of life is tension. Tension between the things we think we want in the moment, and what will fulfill us in the longer term. Tension between competing values that are incongruent, but feel equally important. Like freedom and discipline; two ideas that I struggle with on an ongoing basis. Or as in the case in this post, between the perfect thing and good enough.
I read somewhere once, that how you knew you were a grown up was that you came to understand that it was possible to sit with the knowledge that two conflicting values/beliefs/ideas are simultaneously true. What demonstrated our maturity in these situations was our capacity to not run away from the cognitive dissonance we feel, by trying to solve the “problem” or make one “truth” untrue.
The older I get the more I find this to be true, and the less I resist the idea of embracing the complicatedness. And so it goes with my craft - where I find myself regularly trying to reconcile these two competing values.
1. Making something I believe is truly beautiful. Taking the time, and making the effort, to create something that is exactly as I hoped it would be. Making a thing that makes my heart and soul feel joyous and satisfied and excited, with the belief that in the long run that perfect thing will be enjoyed and loved and rejoyced in and used by me untill it falls apart - in a way that something “good enough” may not…… AND
2. Good enough. Being happy with something that is lovely and fit-for-purpose but not perfect as striving for the aforementioned level of perfect/splendid/beautiful means using resources and time and energy that is often downright environmental vandalism :) when “enough is as good as a feast”.
“Enough is as good as a feast”* is a line from Mary Poppins that I have always loved. It’s a concept applies to so many situations. Situations where our eyes are bigger than our bellies, and where more actually doesn’t make us any happier. I try to remember it, live it and encourage my small people to think about it. What is enough? Really.
The link above points to a post that talks about how thinking about this concept has toned down the speed at which I was making and made me much more considered around what I am making. Do I need one more linen sack dress - or do I have enough?*
Enough feels like a lost value. There is a narrative in our culture that says that striving for perfection is a noble goal. And after decades of keeping up with the Jones’, on building and achieving and getting to the top, we have all ingested (obviously to various degrees) the idea that more is better and that striving for more is honourable. Striving in general is considered to be noble, for it means you are a hard worker, someone who does their best, who is productive, an achiever. Some who cares and isn’t a slacker. And having more is a sign of success.
Then pile on top our narratives around our love for, and need of, freedom. The idea that freedom is being able to have exactly what you want, and an abundance of it….. and we have a bunch of ideas that do not serve us or the planet.
We see this in the craft world all the time. Part of our making culture is focused around excess, the idea the more is better, and that as making is essential to our wellbeing then excess making is justified. We see it in the acronymn SABLE - Stash Aquisition Beyond Life Expectancy or challenges like #sweateramonth (I can’t quite remember what they are called but they are a challenge whereby you knit a sweater each and every month). It’s Slow Fashion As Fast Fashion.
I’ve talked about many of these ideas in my Stash Less series (and sometimes I wonder if I’m boring you all :)) and yet my ideas around it keep evolving as I learn more about my own drivers and as I try and fail and try again. I know that these ideas are something that I have to keep in the forefront of my mind lest I fall back into old habits where desire takes over and I find myself purchasing to find some (short term) joy.
But here is the thing. Climate change is happening and we are the why. So many of us are feeling helpless and yet “a small group of committed citizens can make change. In fact it’s the only thing that ever has”**. And so I feel I must contribute and walk my talk in as many areas of my life as I can.
I listened to a terrific podcast recently where Dax Shepard and Monica Padman interviewed Jonathan Safran Foer and towards the end he talks about having a personal plan for what he wants to achieve for climate change. The idea is to write down your personal commitments and intentions in a really practical way.
And so for me it’s got me thinking about The Year of The Scrap - which is now become The Ongoing Years Of The Scraps - where I focus on low waste making. And it got me thinking about how the values that underlie my perfectionism are so damaging in many ways, seen and unseen.
While I’m a super big proponent of carefully planning to make things that you truly love, I’m also thinking about the nature of our obsession with having “the perfect thing for every occasion” and why good enough doesn’t always feel good enough? Because good enough is important. If it isn’t good enough then I find myself using it less. And I don’t get the same joy out of it as I do something that is beautifully made and pretty.
When is near enough, good enough? And when is it not?
Argh. This feels like such a triviality even as I’m writing it. And yet I come up against it over and over again as I try to be more mindful about my resource use. When I decide that a project is next on my list then how important is finding the perfect yarn or fabric? Or, could I use something that is good enough? Would the good enough thing have the same value to me, and if not, why not?
On the one hand if it’s perfect then I’ll adore it, probably wear it more and it may last longer (as I now purchase materials with longevity in mind) but on the other hand….. maybe it’s more important that it is simply good enough and less impactful. If I can knit from stash with good enough yarn, versus perfect yarn from the store, then surely that is the ethical choice.
And yet sometimes I really struggle with it. I struggle with the idea that it wouldn’t be exactly what I wanted and somehow I allow that to diminish my gratitude for the thing I’ve made.
Of course these socks are good enough…. but to get there I had to work through my internalised ideas of perfection.
NOTE: Please know that this blog post uses these socks as an example which I realise are a very trivial example of the tension I’m talking about. However, it is the example I have in front of me this morning and - while I feel a little embarrassed to share it due to it’s trivial nature - to look for another better example of this tension would be again giving in to perfectionism :). Using these socks as my example is in itself engaging with the practice of Good Enough!
What if I could find a balance between making beautiful things that I will truly love, look after and repair for a long time WHILE also thinking about shifting my parameters a bit around what is perfect, to instead thinking about what is good enough.
This sock project above is the the latest example of this tension. I went backwards and forwards about three times (and used at least three hours of my life) trying to make them “work”.
I made them using the scraps from a skein of Leslie’s amazing hand-dyed Alpaca Sock yarn for the cuffs, heels and toes, and then an almost-ball of grey Jawool I have had for years that was partly eaten by moths. It involved lots of ends and annoyance but I knew the integrity of most of the yarn was good. But then I ran out of the Jawool halfway through the second foot. Which was expected but annoying.
So what to do? I didn’t have any more grey sock yarn scraps. I tried to switch to yellow, which looked awful so I ripped it. I then tried to use the tiny scrap I have of the apricot (which was destined for the toe) to create a break before planning another random colour - this also looked objectively bad. Then I went back to the scrap box to look for (good enough) alternatives - only to find a scrap of pre-combined mohair/silk with a sliver of lace weight Shibui magic from a past project.
Now introducing this yarn - while it looks fine - totally changes the feel of the sock. One foot will always be at odds with another, and chances are one foot will be hotter. Then I realised that I was AGAIN striving for unnecessary perfection. What is that about!
Yet… I’m glad I ripped the yellow and the apricot. They would have made the socks feel less sparkly and special due to the fact they ruined the pretty. And so it was worth fiddling around with. I also take solace in the fact that the ripping out meant re:knitting which means more making without actually using more resources. Maybe the solution is to simply knit and rip out the same garment over and over again. JOKE!!
A sock is a sock, beauty not withstanding. And this bloody sock would still look beautiful, it will simply feel different. But why wouldn’t that just be OK. Why would I be looking for perfection to the degree that I was hesitating over something so trivial and using hours of my life trying to get it right? Is it simply healthy striving to make something beautiful or is my chase influenced by our cultural search for the perfect thing. Is perfectionism making me think that things that don’t matter, actually do?
Anyhoo, I don’t have an answer to where the balance actually lies as it’s an unanswerable pondering, but I wondered if you are also thinking about this in the face of climate change and lowering your output? How have the ideas of perfectionism, good enough and “I have enough” impacted your making?
Felicia x
*Being the hypocritical imperfect human that I am, I really wish I didn’t have to answer that question honestly…. :)
**Quote from Margaret Mead?
