Hesitation in Anticipation of Perfection

I have become a hard core tree hugger in the 5 years that I have lived in Wisconsin. Not like an Al Gore worshipping tree hugger. Like an actual, literal, I think I might go hug that tree, tree hugger. I love the trees here. When they blossom in the Spring, when they thrive in the Summer, and especially when they turn bright red and orange. I am probably not even safe to drive with during those few weeks of vibrant color. I just stare, and sometimes circle the block to stare again. I have seen so many beautiful things in nature but there is something about Fall leaves that just makes me giddy.


For five years now I have been passionately in love with these darn trees, but I have no pictures to show for it. How ridiculous! I mean, I take pictures of everything, if you hadn't noticed. How selfish of me to miss the opportunity to share the deliciousness with all of you. You see, I am just watching and waiting for the optimal moment to immortalize my trees. I wait, and I watch the fall foliage tracker (I told you I had it bad) and I wait too long. Every. Single. Year. A week ago my most stalked tree lost its leaves. Then the tree in my very own backyard started to get bright red and orange. A few days ago it was perfect. It was gushing a curtain of red orange lava all over my deck and I was finally ready to get out and take a picture. Then the rain came and the wind blew, and they both just kept coming. Last night my tree still looked perfect but I could see every gust of the wind stealing my cherished leaves. I decided that today I would go out and take pictures even if it was a downpour. It was indeed a downpour, but I opened the backdoor determined. The leaves were gone. In one night, almost ALL gone. To say that I was sad would be an understatement. To tell you that I have a lump in my throat just typing this would be embarrassing.


I paced around in my frustration, as though in so doing the leaves might climb back on to their branches. I told Seth that I blew it again. He told me to go find another tree. I tried. There are still lots of bright yellows but most of the oranges and reds are gone. I went to the park where the leaves are usually choice for jumping. It was flooded. I couldn't even get near a tree. I couldn't see anything but gray as I drove around. They kept saying words like bleak and dreary on the radio. I started for home. Upon exiting the park I drove down the street, covered on both sides with trees, all bright golden. It formed a magical little tunnel. I drove through again. I tried to take a picture. It was so dark and so wet that not even a fragment of the magic was evident. But it was beautiful, and it made me think.

I drove and I thought. All that talk about bleak and dreary, but there was something beautiful out there. There is always something beautiful. Sometimes you just have to search for it.

Then I thought some more. I thought a lot about why my leaves remain unphotographed. It is because I was waiting for them to be perfect, all of them. I didn't want to show them to you until they were so perfect that they would take your breath away. Instead of capturing the progression, and the beauty of each tree as it peaked I just waited and waited. I wanted the perfect picture, every tree exactly prime all at once.

I guess I have wanted that my whole life. Everything absolutely perfect. There are countless examples, but today I thought about writing. How long have I wanted to write something, other than a journal? Forever! But I know it won't be perfect, someone else could do it better, blah, blah, blah, so I have always known that I would never try. Sometimes I say I will one day (if I get around to it) but I have always known that I never will.

I won't ever be perfect so I will hide and bury any spark of talent that I have. Even assigning the word talent to my writing makes me so uncomfortable.

But I was thinking today of how much I wish I had just taken pictures even if the day was cloudy, or the wind was blowing, or one of the trees in the picture was still too green. I wish I would have appreciated the progression. I wish I would have captured one little masterpiece at a time. Nothing will ever all be perfect, all at once.

I started thinking about my excuses for not writing. I am out of practice; the blog is the only thing I have written in 8 years. I am not good enough. It isn't important to me. I am doing other things. I want writing to be fun, not work. I don't have anything to write that anyone cares about. I would probably fail.

Why am I even thinking about this? I hadn't thought about writing AT ALL in 8 full years. I was so over it but then a few of you fabulously supportive folks have said the nicest things to me since the blog started. You have made my puny head start to swell, start to believe even. You have unearthed the buried talent. Only I am so afraid to take the next step. It is easy to type and click post, but what if I wrote something, and even proofread it, and then edited, and I put myself out there and it wasn't enough.

While driving, and thinking, and rethinking, the song I'm Yours by Jason Mraz came on. A love song, right? But this line kept popping into my mind. "I won't hesitate no more, no more, it can not wait I'm sure!"

It punched my nose. I have to learn to stop hesitating before I act. I have to stop worrying about being perfect. I have to stop worrying about what you think. I have to stop saying maybe someday. I don't know how many somedays there are. Maybe it is time. Maybe at 33 I am ready to dust off my list of somedays and act...before the leaves fall off.

Sheesh, all that because my tree woke up bald this morning. As usual I think I am overthinking. I think I will go think about that for awhile.