What is ideal? Is there something as ideal? The first meaning in the dictionary is “perfect”. Now I went to see the meaning of “perfect” and it said ‘excellent’, ‘faultless’. Now before I thought of going to the meanings of that, I realised it is just one big circle. One word means the other, the other means another which in turn means the first one. So do we actually have a meaning at all? Real true meaning of anything?
Plus even if we understand the meaning of ideal – that I also think is a subjective word and differs from person to person – but for a minute, lets just suppose, if we, within ourselves understand the meaning of the word “ideal”, is anything in life really ideal? As humans, as hungry insatiable mortal beings, aren’t we always vying for something better than what there is – so nothing is really ideal, is it?
Idealism as a concept is totally screwed up. There is no utopia (unless ofcourse, in the clichéd sense, “you make your own utopia”). There is no perfection. Nothing is perfect. And then again, when I look up at the serene sky and watch that globular masterpiece of nature hang lazily, I think of perfection within imperfections.
No then can we say that perfection, in it complete self, doesn’t exist? And that we live all our lives struggling with imperfection – so is our continuous strive for perfection a never ending quest? So is perfection just a distant carrot on the stick,that the closer we get to it, the further it goes? Is perfection some wapped word that is man made and that is an impossibility?
Is any form of art perfect? Is any piece of art perfect? Nothing can be perfect if we cannot define “perfect”, right? So should be delete the word and all its brothers and sisters out of the dictionary? Should we delete ideal, idyllic, best, etc etc etc?
Is it a depressing thought? – to think that perfection may be nothing…a strive towards a theory that does not exist? But yet, in Alanis’ words, You live, you learn. I am very confused right now – I cannot decide whether the realisation that perfection is nothing should be upsetting my hopeful utopic ideas or should I celebrate the fact that as humans, even in imperfections and in the simple walk towards the horizon of perfection that shall never be completed, we are happy – we live, we learn – we make our imperfections our perfections … and in this thoughtful quest, I humbly manage to bewilder and dazzle the readers with my amazing capability to confuse? But then again, did I ever say I am perfect?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment