Imperfection.

Sometimes it takes my breath away.

How beautiful imperfection can be. 

There's something raw and real about rain. About the emotional crack in a singer's voice that comes out only in concert, and not the edited CD track. About the people that fight the entire world for one small step in the right direction. About loss, acceptance, forgiveness. 

This past Saturday I went rock climbing outside for the first time.

As I clung to a cliff face absolutely and 100% stuck beyond belief, I looked down and was struck by how high I was. My fingertips were numb and I could feel my legs and arms shaking. I kept slipping and thank god for the rope, or I probably would have died.

I hate not being strong enough to pull my own weight. I hate being stuck. I hate not being good at something, at not intuitively knowing what to do next.

And then I let go, and the rope took my weight.

It is 100% cheating, and for the first two seconds I hated it.

And then I realized I'd forgotten to put my hair up before I'd started climbing. And the breeze was in my hair and the sun was kissing my face; I looked behind me and I could see the entire valley. And it took my breath away.

Sometimes life ends up being spectacular, even if it's not perfect.

P.S. I did make it to the top, and that moment, too, was pretty freaking glorious.