It's a nice scenario to work on, they say. They strive to make comments about a thing that doesn't have any imperfection. But maybe that's not what they really mean: An inner voice claims that imperfection is a thing that makes nobody happy.
But I say that a ruby is a clear stone with just a trace of impurity that makes it translucent, red, precious, and beautiful. Not knowing when to stop, I go on to say a computer chip that is made from a silicon lattice only works because trace amounts of other elements have been judiciously added, perfect imperfections disrupting the atomic regularity and freeing up electrons to move in a cleverly coordinated dance.
But they say that's just a lot of science mumbo jumbo, and there's a better way to say nothing much at all. But I guess out of nothing springs the occasional disturbance—imperfect if you desire silence—but it could be a perfect word on which to start or end a thing.
They say don't worry about perfection as it's not a thing achievable. But in our imperfection we are perfect beings and those imperfections are the features and attachment points upon which love can grow.
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