How does one reconcile that perfection does not exist in nature?
How do we break down preconceived notions about something that we were led to believe was the zenith of existence? Something almost ethereal?
How do we change our approach to dealing with this new data? How do we continue, knowing that what we thought was perfect, is in fact just like everything else, flawed and in transition?
Our lives are built upon processing experiences and formulating a response to those experiences. That’s why we believe in first impressions so much. In those first few moments of interaction, we build the façade that will inexplicably be linked to the memory of that object forever. Anytime we recall that object, whether we have contact with it or not, our first thought goes directly to that prefabricated image. And when we come back to it, sometimes years later, and see the fallacy that is our preconceived notion, we can’t process it. We struggle to realize that our brain was wrong. It is not “X” but something closely resembling “X” with other variables interacting. Maybe it’s Y. Maybe it’s 42.
When you have decades of that speculative data lying around, you can destroy an entire mindset with one counter argument that has proof to support it. “The Earth is not the center of the universe, the sun is. That means the Pope is not the center of the universe.” That thought undid centuries of belief. It’s the kind of thing wars are fought over. Innocent lives are subjected to torture and pain just to hold onto something that we thought to be true.
Your brain plays this scenario out, constantly. Scientists build careers on demystifying the process of how minds struggle to accept new data in a place of such rigidity.
When you see it with your own eyes and your mind begins to work backwards, going over all the data like that last scene in The Usual Suspects, there is something so cool about it. It’s almost intoxicating to realize that perfection is not that great. When you see something in a new light, the flaws showing, you appreciate it more. You see things you never saw before. The imperfections give it a sense of “based in reality.”
It’s not mythological. It’s not perfection. It’s not a unicorn. It’s real. It exists. You can touch it.
The overall luster is something forged by life and experiences. And while it may look damaged, or imperfect, you realize that will all those outside influences including pressure, the elements, time, and life itself, it never broke. It stood up to any resistance or erosion.
Not because it’s perfect but because it’s built well. It's tough. It's able to survive.