"Perfect is good. But finished is better!" ~ quote on a plaque in a local quilt store bathroom

When I was in graduate school for counseling at least a million years ago I had to write a great number of papers for all the different classes I was attending.

And I came up with a motto which helped me to survive the intensity and demands of that program which was " The only good paper is a done paper."

Without that attitude I could have very easily made myself completely crazy with worrying and efforting and striving to make each one of my assignments perfect. But the bottom line was that I just didn't have the time to be perfect. I was in high production mode. And if I wanted to graduate I had to keep churning these papers out.

So I wrote each paper as well as I could given those time constraints, handed it in and never looked back. Because I always had another one waiting to be completed.

It was great training in what Seth Godin calls "shipping" or simply getting things done, finished, accomplished and out the door.

And because I WAS in such a furious production mode my writing did improve over time. Simply by constantly writing.

I quickly learned that fretting over each and every detail was not going to get me through graduate school. Writing relentlessly did.

I have carried this bit of hard earned wisdom into the rest of my life and particularly into my business life where I am STILL in high production mode although now it's blog posts , newsletters and workshops that am continually creating and completing.

But the lesson came up for me again just recently because I was trying something new and  scary and unfamiliar to me . Which of course, always brings those perfectionistic tendencies out from whatever rocks they are hiding under.

I had a project I was intent on completing, which was to create my very first video workshop called Generosity And The Creative Spirit, that was going to be part of my dear friend Goddess Leonie's free Worlds Biggest Summit.

Since during that time I was out in the Southwest teaching and surrounded by my beloved  high desert, red rock landscape, I thought it would just be the coolest thing ever to have those colorful mountains be the backdrop for my video presentation.

During the first part of my trip I was in one of my favorite places in the world, Sedona, AZ where my hubby, (who was acting as my videographer) and I found what looked like a great spot to film me in.

But it turned out that the place we chose for filming was too close to the road, directly underneath the flight path to the nearest airport as WELL as being right in the middle of a bike trail.

So when I wasn't dodging cyclists barreling down the hill at 50 miles an hour I was going hoarse trying to shout over the incredibly noisy single engine planes that were flying by overhead with the added background noise of large trucks clanking loudly on the asphalt.

When that didn't work out, we decided to wait until we got to the Ghost Ranch Conference Center in New Mexico where I would be teaching and do our filming in the equally stunning red rock landscape there.

But even though New Mexico has been in a drought for the past couple of years it ended up pouring down rain as soon as we got there.

The one sunny day I had free from teaching we went to a gorgeous spot we had chosen for filming but the wind came up so intensely that I was totally distracted by my hair flying around my head and again, not being able to be heard because the wild desert breezes kept whipping the words right out of my mouth.

By now we didn't have much time left to do the video. So we found a spot inside a building on the property that was empty and available.

At this point my cute haircut ( that I had gotten a couple of weeks earlier in anticipation of this shoot) had grown out and my hair was all stringy and dried out from the wind. I was worn out from teaching and my clothes were totally wrinkled. I had had a fantasy that I was going to lose a few pounds before I made my video debut but instead my tummy was all poochy from too many Ghost Ranch chocolate pudding deserts.

But I remembered my lesson from my graduate school days and told myself that the only good video was a done video.

We filmed the video in an echoey room where the light was constantly changing and the only red rocks were the ones that I alone could see out the window behind me. I was frustrated, exhausted and by this point decidedly cranky.

But once the camera started rolling I remembered why I was really there and it didn't have anything to do with all those perfect staging fantasies.

My heart opened, the words came out and I delivered my message about generosity and creativity that I had so lovingly crafted as a gift for the summit. And I even had fun doing it!

By going through this process I learned, once again, a few things about the dance of creativity and perfectionism.

I remembered that when you are creating something It's important to do the best that you can. But doing the best that you can is not the same as perfectionism. Doing the best that you can is always achievable and doable.

Perfection, on the other hand, believes in and demands the impossible. Perfectionism assumes that your best is just not good enough and that there is something more that can be accomplished that is somehow better than your best.

Perfection is ultimately a fantasy. It's an idea that you have in your mind that may or may not be possible given whatever realities you find yourself bumping up against on the road to creating something.

The other thing I learned from doing this video badly was that the fantasy of perfectionism is actually pretty boring.

Perfection is static. Once you've achieved perfection there's nowhere else to go.  It's done. Complete. The end of the road. It's dead and you can no longer learn from it. Perfection is like embalming fluid for the soul.

When something is not perfect, you learn from it. You grow. Because you actually did it you can now go on to do it better. And better. And better.

And finally, perfection is ultimately not very satisfying because it's simply not real. One of the biggest gnarly, dangers that you encounter around perfectionism is the unwillingness to actually make something.

You can get completely caught up in the gorgeous fantasy of how this thing could be which leads to you becoming justifiably terrified that it won't ever turn out the way you want it to.

Which it won't. Because it can't. Because it's just not possible. ( See above.)

So you never do anything at all.

When you create something, whether it's a first time video with less than stellar production values or a school paper slammed out on a tight schedule, there is always that deep feeling of satisfaction that comes from having birthed something into the world. Even if your new baby is a little cross-eyed and looks like your great uncle Harry, you still love it because it's yours.

And you can't really help but secretly love the part of you that was courageous enough and bold enough to make this thing knowing that it WASN'T going to be perfect.

But you had the heart and spirit and willingness to do it anyway.

Which, dearhearts, is really and truly the only thing that ever matters in the end.

A few years ago one of my beloved students started hounding me to create a teacher training program so that I could begin training students how to do what I do using the intuitive painting process.

This was something that I had on the list to do "one day" but her dogged insistence brought that day into full, technicolor reality in the summer of 2008.

So I got to work actually creating the program that now exists as the Wild Heart Expressive Arts Teacher Training program. To date I have graduated three groups of students with a fourth on the way.

When I was in the early days of developing the program I kept getting asked the same question over and over again from friends who were concerned for my welfare. And that question was "If you start training people aren't you worried that you will be creating your competition?"

Which was something that had frankly never occurred to me. And even once it was brought up wasn't something that I was overly concerned about.

I had a few moments of wondering if it was something I should be paying attention to, given that it was the first thing on many other people's minds.

But I just couldn't find that place inside of me that felt fearful or worried. From the beginning this was something that I felt unrestrained excitement for.

Plus it just felt right.

And since I spend much of my life following those gut feelings of rightness, I saw no reason to begin to doubt my intuitive knowing now.

I have just graduated my third group of teachers... women from all over the country who could not be more different from each other in personality and background but who have managed to create an enduring bond of sisterhood that is allowing them to explode as intuitive painting teachers in their local communities.

And I can't imagine how I could be a prouder mama than I am of this group.

As they have been hard at work creating their own studios complete with gorgeous websites I can only feel excitement and gratitude as they step out into the world as intuitive painting teachers.

And I keep wondering, "Where's this fear of the competition that all my friends were worried about?"

Which made me start to think about what exactly competition means to me.

The first thing that became clear was that I actually kind of groove on competition. It's not something that scares me. It's a force in my life that fires me up and gets me moving.

If I see one of my friends or colleagues in the expressive arts creativity biz expanding and growing in a way that I have not yet done, it stimulates those competition juices. I feel restless and dissatisfied and like I'm being left out or left behind.

I start to ask myself questions like, "Hey, how come they have the ( more students, more attention, flashy e-book, invitations to be interviewed,etc.) and I don't? And what am I going to do about that?"

Which leads to me becoming extremely motivated to catch up or even surpass the person. It doesn't mean that I'm taking anything away from them. It just means I get propelled into taking action to try and get what they've got.

So competition on this level is actually a source of inspiration.

It's also happening completely in my own psyche. No one but me often even knows that I'm having those feelings. And it's really all about my willingness to grow.

What my anxious friends are referring to when they talk about competition is something more external and is related to the perception of limited resources.

In their minds, there are only so many painting students (which translates to money) to go around. And since that pool of students is only so big, if my students who I am training start to draw from that pool it means that there will be less for me.

So my good hearted yet worried friends' solution to this dilemma is to simply keep other people away from the pool. To stake a claim and keep the pool walled off or secret. And to certainly not invite others to partake of the bounty of the pool.

This version of competition is very much based on fear. And the need to protect yourself from potential loss. It comes from an emotional place that is hallmarked by tension, tightness and contraction.

And ultimately lack of trust.

My experience in creating my teacher training program has really flown in the face of that fear of lack.

By opening myself up and sharing my information and expertise with other people I have actually created more abundance in my life... not less.

Because now I have a group of intuitive painting teachers that is growing larger each year. And these folks have become my companions, compatriots, compadres and NOT competitors.

What is being developed as we all move out into the world is a lively collaborative community.

Which means that we are trying to create something together.  Something that supports and aids each one of us to be as big as we can be.

There is a sense of encouragement and celebration that infiltrates the entire process. Instead of fearing that my expansion will take something from you there is the wondrous feeling my success will actively enhance yours.

Working together as collaborators creates a contagious energy of excitement not only between those people who are the teachers, but it also spills over to the people who come to participate as students in the workshops.

Because of the passion and excitement that we as teachers share for this work, there is a perception all around of something wondrous happening. Something that everyone wants to be a part of. Something that people want to tell their friends about.

And something that continues to grow.

Truthfully, nothing I have ever done in my work life has ever been first and foremost for the money.

I like making enough moolah to eat and pay the rent and finance my turquoise jewelry addiction ... sure ... but making money is just a very helpful and fortunate side effect of doing this work that I love.

And because this work has always been about love I have never, EVER worried that there wasn't enough.

Because, seriously.... how could we ever possibly run out of the most endless and lavishly bounteous force of energy in the universe?

So I will gratefully accept my friends concern for me. Because I know that too, comes from a place of love.

But I will continue to churn out Wild Heart Expressive Arts intuitive painting teachers for as long as the energy and enthusiasm is in me to keep making it happen.

Which, given the relentless nature of love, I anticipate will be a very long time.

I identify myself as a giving person.

I like being generous. It makes me incredibly happy to be in the role of the bountiful benefactor.  Most often it's with people I know and love. But I also get a major kick out of offering small acts of generosity and kindness to whoever crosses my path on a given day.

But I have had to learn the hard way about truly joyful giving and the suffering that I can create for myself through my unconscious and automatic tendency to self sacrifice.

Which made me think about a pivotal incident in my life where I learned a huge lesson about the difference between the two.

A few years ago I was on a plane headed east from California to visit my family in Pittsburgh PA. It was a non-stop red eye flight that was approximately 5 hours and change.

The flight was not very full and I was thrilled to find that I was in a row of three seats all by myself. And given that it was a middle of the night flight I was looking forward to being able to stretch out along those seats and possibly even get some sleep.

Because the plane was half empty the flight attendants told people that they could choose where they wanted to sit and to change their assigned seats if they wanted to. A few rows in front of me there was a dark haired woman in her forties sitting next to a teenage girl who looked like she could be the woman's daughter.

They were also sitting in a row of three seats with one seat between them. When the stewardess announced that we were free to move around the woman and girl got up from their seats and headed my way. The woman stood at the end of my aisle and said to me " My daughter would like to sit here in this row."

At first I was dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. And in an inner whirl about how to respond to her request. On the one hand, the "authorities" on the plane had given permission for this. On the surface, it was not an unreasonable request. After all I had the whole row to myself. Who was I to think I deserved such bounty and good fortune?

The old me would have given in. I would have been more interested in being a "nice person" than potentially being seen as a selfish bitch.

But some part of me was having none of that old story. I looked the woman in the eye and with a big smile, said as nicely as possible " I'm sorry, but I am planning on using all three of these seats tonight, so I'm afraid that your daughter can't sit here."

The woman's eyes got very wide and she looked more than a little shocked. And very disapproving. And then without another word, she and her daughter turned around and stomped off away from me.

Just recently I was talking with a friend who was struggling around giving herself some things that she really wanted. She was longing for experiences that she had never had before that would cost money and time and wouldn't be about taking care of anybody else except for her.

And her biggest concern was the guilt she was sure she would end up feeling if she  gave into her desire for these things that felt so extravagant.

I assured her that she might feel some guilt but it probably wouldn't be as bad as she feared. But I was not exactly telling the truth.

Because after I said "No" to this woman on the plane, after I kept a boundary around taking care of my own needs, the guilt I experienced was enormous. Excruciating. Almost unbearable. It was like a storm, an ocean, a typhoon of guilt induced agony.

I was overwhelmed with self remorse and self recrimination that was searingly painful as it permeated every cell of my being like white hot molten lava.

It was all I could do to not jump up and run over to the woman who made the request, apologizing profusely for being such a bad, self serving person and offering her daughter all three seats to herself while I slunk off to some other corner of the plane.

But I held off from taking any action based on a guilt induced frenzy. I chose instead to stay as present as possible to the inner whirlwind of thought and emotion.

And the big surprise to me was that the guilt orgy only lasted approximately 4.3 minutes.

At the end of that very short period of time the guilt subsided and it slowly dawned on me that I actually had exactly what I wanted. I could both proudly claim this small victory over my knee jerk tendency to self sacrifice as well as my own now hard won space on the plane.

I was just so happy that I could stretch out in the weird contorted comfort that you can only have sprawling over three plane seats. And I actually slept the whole time without a second thought about the woman and her daughter until the aircraft landed safely in Pittsburgh.

And this taught me a huge lesson about something that I have come to call emotional economics.

What I realized later that day was that if I had surrendered to the impulse to give myself away, if I had said yes to this request when every fiber of my being wanted to say no, I would have spent approximately 4.3 minutes basking in the glow of feeling like I was a very virtuous person and patting myself on the back about how amazingly generous I was.

And then the next 4 hours and 55.7 minutes would have been devoted to smoldering and fuming. Feeling resentful. Shooting undeserved daggers at the poor young woman sitting next to me. Obsessing and ruminating about how I didn't stand up for myself and I should have done it differently. Going over and over all the things I could have said.

Making up stories about the woman who made the request and casting her in the starring role as a self centered, entitled witch in this particular scene in the ongoing movie of my life. Being reminded of all the other times that I had done the exact same thing and kicking myself for not having learned this lesson yet.

How much sleep would I have gotten? Zero. My peace of mind would have been shot during the flight itself and I would probably have replayed this interaction in my head at least a hundred times over the next couple of days, feeling tinges of shame and self accusation every time I thought of it.

Not to mention the bad karma points I would have collected through engaging in hateful thoughts towards other sentient beings.

Up until now it's been hard for me to tell this story because even though I personally felt really good about how I dealt with the situation, I still carried a tinge of the guilt I experienced that night on the plane. And I feared that in telling this tale I would be judged by others as self centered and ungenerous.

Maybe the Dalai Lama or Pema Chodron would have been able to graciously give up their three seat treasure with a full and bountiful heart.

But I am going on record here to say that at this point in my evolution, I'm just not that enlightened. And in the spirit of the radical self acceptance I am always trying to encourage in my students, I think that that's OK.

I learned a few things that night that have stayed with me to this day.

I now know that giving is only truly joyful when I actually have something to give. And when it's something that I whole heartedly want to give. And in terms of the emotional economics,  something that I can emotionally afford to give.

I've also learned that joyful giving has to be joyful for me. It's not enough for me to make someone else feel good at my expense. It's not true joyful giving if I am left filled with seething resentment and homicidal fantasies.

I've learned that joyful giving involves my ability to say "No" as well as "Yes". And that having limits and boundaries is not a bad thing.

And that finally, joyful giving cannot leave me out of the equation. That charity begins at home. And that my ability to be generous has to always include my ability to be generous to my own sweet self.

I've been having an interesting discussion with some of my online friends about the desire to take a sabbatical.

And how important it is to set aside periodic big chunks of time out of your life to recharge, and rejuvenate.

But the problem with sabbaticals is that wherever you go, there you are, which means that for most of us we drag along our allegiance to the god of productivity. ( Which is actually the subject of another post at another time.)

Now I'm primarily talking about myself in this regard. I am one of the biggest offenders around. I am addicted to productivity. It's like a drug for me. I just feel so incredibly good when I accomplish something. And often the bigger and more challenging the accomplishment is, the better I like it.

It's exciting. I feel a sense of mastery and achievement when I write that blog post or fill that workshop or create a new program. I have a mile long list of projects that I am either involved in or that I am looking forward to getting to.

Partly it's the problem of being a driven creative person and having more ideas than sense.

When you work for yourself you kind of have to keep coming up with new things, like new ways to market and get the word out, or new offerings for my students and clients. It's fun and there's an exhilarating sense of freedom that comes with knowing that you are the driving engine behind your work and success.

It feeds the part of me that is a thrill seeker and adventurer to create something and throw it out in the world and see what happens.

Because of course, there are no guarantees. Sometimes things work and sometimes they don't. But it's fun and also scary to take the risk and give it a try. And when you do that often enough, just through the law of averages, some things are going to make it.

Which is totally fulfilling and often mind-blowing. And it's always the intermittent reinforcement that keeps you coming back for more.

But the funny thing is that I don't actually think of myself as a gambling type of gal. I'm much more consciously identified with the side of me that is rock solid steady and reliable. The part of me that has grown my business from scratch and has gotten to where I am because of my relentless persistence and my sheer stubborn capacity to hang in there even when things get hard and frustrating.

The part of me that is actually pretty conservative in my actions and my life and doesn't particularly like change. The part of me that NEVER moves my furniture around once it has been placed in a certain configuration or has used the same shampoo and conditioner for over 30 years.

But change is in the air. I can feel it coming.

There are all kinds of structures, patterns of doing things, belief systems and perceptions of myself that are up for re-evaluation. Certain ways of being in the world that for so long have felt comforting and like part of my core identity are now feeling constraining and stale. And not like me at all. Or at least not like this new me.

And I know I'm not the only one. As the Buddhists say, change is the only constant , but some seasons of change are more all encompassing. And dramatic. And it seems to me that a season like that is upon many of us right now.

One of the things I am noticing about change is that it is something that we are more likely to notice after the fact. We don't say " I am hell bent on changing" because there is a part of us that truly doesn't want to change. We don't say "I am going to do this thing and my life will never be the same again" because that would scare the living bejesus out of us.

We have to sneak up on it.

It starts when we simply begin to hunger for different things. And take small steps to feed that hunger. And before we know it we have unwittingly pushed away from shore and are further out on the ocean sea of change than we ever dreamed was possible.

The change has already happened from the inside out and the task at hand is to catch up with ourselves. We need to take a deep breath, look around and admit that we are not in Kansas in anymore.

And then boldly and consciously move forward in the direction that we are already headed.

Change is scary because it always involves loss.

You can't have the old thing and the new thing at the same time. Something has to go. And we want to have it all. We don't want to feel the heart hurt of what is dying so that we can be reborn.

We ask ourselves, "Can't I stay the way I've always been and still become someone new? " And the answer is always an unequivocal " No."

Change means leaving certain things and sometimes even people behind.

It means never doing that activity or going to that place ever again. Which can be sad. But holding on for fear of feeling the grief of something ending keeps you stuck. Static. Caught in the past. And ultimately without energy and that delicious sense of juicy aliveness.

My life already HAS changed, especially over the past year, in some truly amazing ways. For a long time my husband and I have talked about how great it would be to have him being much more involved with helping me in my business. And now that long held wish is a technicolor reality and it truly IS great.

Of course, we said had to say yes to this change before we could even get started. But we tricked ourselves by thinking of it as a temporary situation. And now there is no going back.

And this one outward change has led to a cascade of inner changes that are more far reaching than I could have ever imagined.

So here I am. Changed and changing. On the brink. Scared and a little discombobulated. But feeling more alive than I have in a while. Which is really the whole point of this grand adventure we are all on together.