While spending a week at the Happiest Place on Earth with my son years ago (...hey it must be true...Mickey Mouse told me so...) I woke one morning extremely early to walk the grounds of The Coronado Hotel. It was perfectly placed in the middle of Mouse World with a large (man-made) lake in the center of its own manicured splendor. Nothing was left to chance, from the rolling carpet of St. Augustine grasses...to the sugar white sand that surrounded the lake lagoon style. Hammocks were suspended artfully in the shade of carefully planted (certainly not indigenous) Royal Palms. A Mayan Temple sprouted/loomed amidst a tangle of both artificial (resin) and real jungle vines. Flowers bloomed profusely, throughout.
Back to the walk.
In the breaking dawn the grounds-keeping crew was already hard at work. Plants that were straggly or encroaching were being quickly brought in line. Flowers with the slightest wilt or droop were being dead-headed. Cleaners and polishers and even the occasional paint-touch up. I half expected to see The Queen of Hearts demanding the roses be painted red (...or off with your heads!!!)
By the time the sumptuous breakfast was served in the faux Plaza-Marketplace complete with mariachi music and resin braids of chilies hanging from the vendor stalls...everything was perfect.
Just another day at Disney.
The perfection, of course, was an illusion. Created by countless numbers of committees...man hours...gardeners...paint...and dollars...but still an illusion.
Real life is messy. It is straggly plants and wilted flowers along with a beautiful tea rose from time to time. Few of us have cleaners and polishers. Most of us ARE the cleaners and polishers. It is Kroger's...Walmart and Aldi's...and if we want the sumptuous breakfast we stand over a stove and cook it. Well, at least our chili braids are real.
Just for the moment...forget the Glossies...the air-brushed perfection...the re-touched photos...the glittering trompe l'oeil that is unattainable and appreciate the real that surrounds you on a daily basis. Real is the baby getting sick on your outfit minutes before you leave for work...and you love him, anyway.
Is getting away and enjoying moments of faux perfection enjoyable? Certainly. But steady diet of it would be as unpalatable as those plastic chilies.
Forget striving for perfection. Strive to be perfectly REAL.
