torn pages
August 31, 2014 § 6 Comments
There are uncomfortable experiences of self that are centered in perfectionism; pages torn whose rough remnants are stubbornly stapled among those unmarred. I sometimes feel the knowing tug of sharp expectations as they pull at my thoughts and ruffle contentment. They are self-imposed standards that speak to a perceived ineptness scaled against impossible expectations.
Failure is first painful for the uncomfortable perceptions of self that glare unkindly, taunting old wounds. Slowly, persistently, the mind smooths over crumbled insecurities, stretching emotions to accommodate a gentler logic; one that forgives sharp creases for the fullness of their texture.
It is a personal poetry, the faults and fears illogical once voiced, but too cumbersome to be kept in silence. Instead I speak the difficult truths onto clean pages, gathering fragments of self from torn pages.
scribblechic 
It’s our privilege to help craft our own story–something best done when we harmonize design and nature. A work of art often emerges only after a bit of time erodes over some rough edges.
Lovely, Maurice. Thank you!
I am all too familiar with sharp expectations. And standards that appear self imposed but came from the recesses of years ago. Well put.
Some of these standards are older, some unquestionably a product of external expectations that have been internalized. I often acknowledge these thoughts with a resigned sense of ownership, but have come to recognize feelings of discontent that rattle these assumptions; an impatient unwillingness to linger too long in remorse or too casually accept restrictive messages of self. I am unraveling uncomfortable self-talk that too quickly dismisses want or need for a false presumption of possibility; returning time and again to a question of why not.
I always enjoy reading — and learning from — your personal poetry.
Writing here, within a space of gray boundaries and among familiar strangers, reminds me very much of treasured conversations from college courses. I wish there were more space in our days to collect one another’s wonderings and share wisdom.