scorecards

We grow up being scored, rated, observed, evaluated. The most obvious of situations is the school report card. Each subject so neatly categorized. "Math." "A." or "History. 4.0"


Even in music growing up, we had "contest" for violin each year, in which we were given a numerical rating for tone, pitch, technical accuracy, etc.

Even in kids church, "Awana" made use of this concept in order to encourage kids to memorize various amounts of Bible verses, so that we could "pass" one level and graduate to the next.

There are those of us (me) that thrive on these rating systems, and those of us that ignore or flounder under them.

For us perfectionists, these rating systems can really enrapture us, simply because there is a fabricated "top level" of perfection that is ABLE to be achieved. We can find some sort of rest and peace, because there is no further up we could have gone. How extremely comforting this was to me as a child and adolescent, simply because it allowed me a stopping point of effort, a glass ceiling in which I could no longer berate myself for being "not good enough," because I had gotten that perfect score and could know where to "quit."


Somehow I came to view various subjects as an "activity" instead of perhaps realizing that the SUBJECT itself, such as BIOLOGY for instance, would be worth studying, grappling with, and learning, FOR ITS OWN SAKE, for the use and love of knowing it - not just for a scorecard and a grade.

And this has been a lesson I have learned as I've gotten older, though it remained obvious to some even from childhood: that the real reward is obviously IN THE KNOWING and APPLYING of the subject, and not only in the "mastery" of it and subsequent external evaluation of my performance in relation to this floating body of knowledge.

Additionally, and perhaps as a reaction to my perfectionist craving, I experience the most intrinsic pleasure from activities that DO NOT have specific objective rating systems, activities in which evaluations are more personal and relative rather than absolute. Such as painting, hiking, writing...

But these activities also contrarily cause me great emotional duress, simply because I know I could always work harder to "make it better" or make it applicable and tangible to more people, as in writing and art, so that I experience great stress at "deciding when to stop" and simply being OK with the finished product.

As a result, during times of perfectionist depression and dejection, I avoid these nebulous activities and instead opt for activities with a measurable level of perfection, so that I can tell myself that I am in in fact an OK person.

But this brings me to my earlier discussion of the craving for risk or danger (in my previous blog)... The most deeply fulfilling and thrilling of activities are those that challenge me, those that don't have a scorecard, those that combine a quest for beauty with a love of the moment. Those whose finished products laugh at report cards, and invite the viewer into relationship and ever-evolving dialogue.

And this is why painting is the most difficult thing in the world to me, and also the most satisfying and life-sustaining.

Do you ever feel like life is a series of contradictions and ironies? Thrilling.

How lucky we are to be alive and roam this earth.

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