Each day brings treasures to you, and yet you tend to focus on the discomforts, as if they are what is important. They matter inexorably for a day or two, and then your attention flits to another inconvenience. You exert energy and time on a temporary matter that tomorrow will be forgotten as if it never were. And yet you give your heart and soul to it, a tiny blemish on the day of your life. That which is only an incident and therefore incidental, you make crucial. You are a dramatist. You are a dramatist of the first order.

Everything seems to matter to you. You are in a constant flurry of trying to make perfect. And you fail in terms of the world. You can only fail. Dust continues to accumulate. More things need to be done and redone. Interruption and tension abound. Would that you would rest in the knowledge that all is well and that all the tiny things that make a difference to you matter not at all. You huff and puff around them, as if the universe depends on the state of a detail in your life when details remain only details. Since when was it your responsibility to make everything perfect in the world, or in your town, or in your house, or in one room or corner of it? The perfection you aspire to is a changing thing that is impossible to keep up with.

The irony is that you who look for perfection dwell on imperfection.

You harp on your body. All the while, bodies are bodies, none of them perfect according to your standards. Your body certainly is always too something or not enough something. In truth, We could say each form has its own perfection. What a tool the body is! What a magnificent creation! What an incredible creation your body is, and yet you would go to great lengths to make it into a mannequin. Mannequins do not wrinkle. They stay perfectly smooth. A mannequin has perfection and lacks life. Would you really want to be a mannequin?

You have been a greyhound in your search for this illusory imagined worldly perfection. You have been chasing it because you have been chasing it. What did you think that perfection would bring you? If it were attainable, what then, beloveds, what then?

Recklessly you pursue a perfection in the world that you cannot reach. And if you could reach it, with what supreme effort would you expend to try to keep it?

How do you stand to live with yourself in this crying need and futile endeavor for perfection? Forget perfection. Remember love instead. If you really desire perfection, desire that you are perfect in love. Perfect in love, foreswear perfection and deal in love.

One who deals with perfection throws his money away. One who deals in love has great wealth. Do not mix up tinkling coins and crackling paper with wealth. The wealth I speak of is infinite and it is available equally to all. There is no stratus in love. There is no chasing it. And you are the master of love in your heart. No one can take it away from you. You are the decider of the fate of the love in your heart.

Seeking perfection in the relative world is one of the most imperfect things to occupy yourself with. There is something much greater than imagined perfection, and you have it already.