Perfectionism has different faces and forms. It passionately inspires as much as vehemently debilitates. Drives us to chase horizons as much as stresses the soul.

In the strife strive for perfectionism, things seem so oh so subliminally possible. The struggle, struggle, struggle of it all is often fuel to keep going, going, going…

My eyes glaze over the computer screen, previewing my new blog layout. All had been set on investing in a custom-built one. But oh, no, and here I am, personally modifying said layout yet again on another balmy January night.

‘It just doesn’t look right!’ the voice in my head shouts again. Exasperated, I silently insist on figuring out this WordPress block layout. The unusually warm summer air in my room envelopes me, egging me on like this is a heated best-dressed competition.   

What is perfect is subjective. Naturally perfectionism and achievements aren’t a means to an end. And don’t always make you happy. Rather shifting towards letting go is where potential meets awareness.

The notion of perfectionism revolves around a sense of flawlessness. Psychologists Paul Hewitt and Gordon Flett (1991) describe self-oriented perfectionism as ‘setting exacting standards for oneself and stringently (censuring) one’s own behavior.’

High standards. All or nothing obsessive thinking. Feeling not good enough. Just some perfectionistic tendencies. All too familiar to me.

The insistence on making my blog look ‘perfect’ parallels my past. Memories of fierce, stubborn striving haunt the recesses of my mind. Getting top grades in class to put on ‘Chinese face’ stirred purpose in control and getting things done – chasing external validation. Partaking in number-crunching roles challenged my comfort zone, cracking potential – but barely scratching it. Ruminating over detail, always something to discover yet compounds indecision.

Perfectionism is undoubtedly my old friend. I let out an audible sigh, eyes still glazed over the screen. I silently insist, rather maniacally, ‘I’ll figure out this bit of code, for this part of my blog, up late, tonight!’ Same story as the night before.

Perfectionism, undoubtedly spiralling within the depths of younger me as l lived the Asian model minority stereotype years ago. And these days, within another version of me.

Perfectionistic tendencies can be comforting, so letting go of them can be hard. The strive towards flawlessness and achievements offers the allure of venturing some space better, which perhaps buries a deep dislike of confronting deeper demons.

Why the insistence on making my blog look ‘perfect’? On the high standards? Obsessiveness?

Perhaps I have a submissive Asian look about me. Or look like I need help when am quiet thinking or exhibiting my neurodivergent-descriptive mannerisms. People seem too eager to ‘teach’ me the ‘right’ way – though they could mean well, wanting to take others along for their ride. But being told to live up to Chinese and societal expectations, and incessantly being told what to do so often, the power to be me always felt elusive.

My insistence on getting things done just ‘right’ as a writer stems from a search for finding and defining my personal power. A testament to prove myself to myself.

I pause modifying my blog. Pause for a breath. Wonder where all this modifying is leading to. If anywhere at all…

The writings of Lao Tzu come to mind: a central concept of Tao Te Ching (Dào dé Jīng) is ‘Wú Wéi’ (无为) – of ‘doing nothing’ and ‘effortless action’. Not in the sense of relaxing or waiting for things. It’s the antithesis of perfectionism, quite the opposite of forcing: living in alignment with nature and cycles around us. Less focus on outcomes and desires. More on awareness, sensing rhythms of the moment amidst struggle.

‘The gentlest thing in the world overcomes the hardest thing in the world. That which has no substance enters where there is no space. This shows the value of non-action.’

– Lao Tzu. Verse 43, Tao Te Ching (trans. Stephen Mitchell)

I try to wrap my head around the WordPress block layout. ‘Where are the archives? The search bar? Categories? Just where is everything?!’ I feel so perplexed. Reading the WordPress guides offer some answers. Still, I have so many questions.

I am miffed this is taking much longer than first thought. Going round in circles. I reluctantly admit it. Stuck for now.

Shaking off a vigilant state of mind, I peel my stiff body away from my desk. Habitual late night yoga calls. Leaving this blog as is, with no answers, calls for now.

In embracing the rhythms of the moments around us, we accept what is, as frustrating as it may be. Having answers or solutions now isn’t always the most important thing. Sometimes there aren’t even answers. Rather, observing and reflecting on where we are at might offer us insight that we never knew we needed.

An updated blog look is something I’ve been keen on for a while. Something more mobile-friendly and a simplified front page. For the longest time, no blog layout called to me. That is until this summer, when I curiously meddled with WordPress block themes. Letting my wild imagination carry me, I visualised what my blog could be…

Seeing the bigger picture invites us to lessen the grip on detail and perfectionistic performance. Less of going around in circles. For in seeing the bigger picture, we dance with a situation for what it is and move with it. It’s less about getting it ‘right’ and more of knowing our why – coming into relation with what’s around us now.

Post-movement, I sit back down at my desk in a different mind. Contemplative. I ponder the layout of my blog, ponder the reader experience. People read blogs for learning. Connecting. Mindless doomscroll entertainment. ‘Why do people read on here?

‘How important is having a personal brand to me? How important is it to show up polished on here as a writer and astrologer with offerings to the world?’ These questions swirl through my mind on this dreamy mid-summer night. Unbothered, the heaviness of humidity in the air reminds me that I am alive. No need to conform to pressure to be someone alike and instead, there are vast possibilities to step into.

There’s a righteousness around showing up polished and so-called perfect. Being perfect and polished doesn’t always reflect our authenticity. And sometimes what we are drawn to most is authenticity. To quote a phrase from Tao Te Ching, ‘True perfection seems imperfect, yet it is perfectly itself’.

In embracing authenticity, we embrace imperfection. It’s a step towards setting boundaries to shift away from perfectionistic tendencies – acknowledging imperfection, not hiding it but working and flowing with it.

In all honesty, polished and professional appearances never appealed to me. Do I want to embody or be called an expert? Specialist? Award winner? Master? In all honesty, no. Not at all. Such claims and titles seem so…performative when we all have our focus, limitations and shortcomings. The knowledge each of us has is the gift of perspective when shared – insight for right where we are right now. No perfect answer, solution or roadmap. No one is perfect or better than the other.

I need to remind myself of this.

My old friend perfectionism lingers in subconscious shadows. I sigh again as I scrutinise my blog layout. Dissatisfied with the blurry header. Dissatisfied with the homepage feature image too big for my liking. Almost all photos not automatically scaling to size. It all looks incomplete…in my eyes.

The concept of Wú Wéi is a layered one but arguably encompasses trusting in the process. Of moving with intuition, viscerally guided by signs and symbols in our current cycles. Like tending to a garden, watering as it needs, it grows. Or deep in the flow of writing, off-cuff experimenting, passages materialise. Or sensing thirst, reach for water, feel refreshed.

Adapting and adjusting in the moment is how we develop potential and meet awareness in our own time, rather than through riding the high road of illusive perfection. It brings awareness of our role, our impact and how we can move forward in the most natural way possible.

It’s that time up late when most lights are out. It’s calm. It’s peaceful. The sense that nothing else is left to be done, except surrendering to rest. Like clockwork. And it’s only natural. Even on a hot, hot summer night.

I laugh at the incompleteness, the lopsidedness of my new blog layout. I feel I can do no more but…doing nothing.

‘Could make the new blog layout go live,’ the voice in my head reasons with grace. ‘Why not? Incomplete, but still a blog with things for people to read. Could tend to it later…’

And so, one breath, I make the new layout live. Trust in not fixing anymore…

…and I fear I won’t like the layout at all, so awfully ambivalent about it. But hopeful I will.

Both fear and hope fuel perfectionism. Both fear and hope are states of longing to be elsewhere away from the present. Where do fear and hope come from? Often from what the Self desires. Conversely, it is also both fear and hope that nudge us forward, inviting us to surrender and move with the moment.

Transcending our desires and what the ego wants isn’t weakness. In turn accepting our imperfect selves opens the door to self-compassion. Our personal power ultimately rests in choosing to love ourselves, and imperfect selves, and paying that forward as we find our place in the whole.

‘What does it mean that hope is as hollow as fear? Hope and fear are both phantoms that arise from the thinking of the self. When we don’t see the self as the self, what do we have to fear?…Love the world as your self and then you can care for all things.’

– Lao Tzu. Verse 13, Tao Te Ching (trans. Stephen Mitchell)

Different schools of thought complement each other. The notion of Wú Wéi reminds us to be grounded and balanced in the present. Such gives us space to reflect on polarities and dimensions, guiding us to deeper understanding and hence, awareness of our actions.

Taking action aligned with rhythms of the moment, things unfold in their own time for us and beyond.

It’s been a few weeks now. Each time I tended to what was ‘incomplete’ on the blog, it worked itself out. Divine. I don’t know how to explain it. But I don’t have to.  

Up late, I look at my new blog layout. ‘I don’t like the font at all!’ the voice in my head shouts.

The mild summer breeze through my window caresses me to relax, and I catch myself. The average person reading on here probably doesn’t even notice the font.

And for now, I leave my blog as is.

I don’t need to prove myself to myself. I can just be me, Mabel, for me, the world and beyond.

Do you have perfectionistic tendencies?

Acknowledgements: Illustrations by Anna Ravelli, Pinodesk.