"Finality is death. Perfection is finality. Nothing is perfect. There are lumps in it."�James Stephens, The Crock of Gold (1912).

Nothing is perfect. There are lumps in it. While this can be said of my mashed potatoes as well as a worn mattress in a pricey motel, what I like about this quote is the idea that once you have achieved perfection, where do you go from there?

Take Tiger Woods. He�s not perfect. Pretty close, but not perfect. Sure he gets par, under par, farther under par than almost anyone else. To be truly perfect, he�d have to get a hole in one every time. What do you suppose would happen if he had such a perfect game? Commentators and fans would no doubt start wondering when he�d have another one�and brand him a has-been if he fails to repeat the feat.

The harshest critic would probably be Woods himself, because once you�ve achieved perfection, you expect to always operate at that lofty level. Once you�ve made a batch or two of perfectly creamy, non-lumpy mashed potatoes, you figure you�ll never have trouble with it again.

That�s the catch with perfection: if you can�t repeat it or sustain it, you�re a failure.

Perfection can be misleading. Perfect grades, straight As, 100 out of 100. Perfect student, right? Maybe. I knew people in college who were excellent students�they read everything, studied hard and never left papers until the last minute�but were lousy test-takers. Since you can�t make the Dean�s List with an "E" for effort, many truly perfect students go unheralded.

Some people obsesses about a lack of perfection. This includes the hostess who apologizes over and over about one flaw in the occasion. If the meat is tough or the souffl� underdone there�s nothing you can do about. Smile and allow the guests to enjoy the rest of the meal. They will most likely overlook the problem and remember the party with fondness despite the flaw. Make too big a deal of the problem, dwell on it, and that�s all anyone will recall.

You can be a great teacher, an inspiring teacher whom students remember years later with fondness, without being a perfect one. You can be a top-notch spouse without being a perfect 10. It isn�t what you�ve got, it�s what you do with it.

Creative people particularly get caught up in the drive with perfection. The more I hear about Barbra Streisand�s demanding nature, it�s no wonder she�s giving up performing, once again. Even a well-rehearsed and scripted live performance will have inevitable glitches and miscues. It can�t hope to compare with countless re-takes and tweaks available at a recording studio or soundstage. A bootleg cassette of Streisand singing in the shower would be more interesting to me than hearing the mixed, remixed and digitally enhanced version. When something�s too perfect it becomes sterile and boring. Who would prefer a canned laugh track to spontaneous laughter?

That�s where the industrial revolution and modern computerization have led us astray. Today we have more mass-produced perfection than our ancestors could ever have dreamed of. The result is that hand-produced items are that much more precious. That�s why a friend�s hand-addressed, slightly messy thank you note with a spelling error is much more prized than a laser-printed, perfectly legible one with a spelling error. We expect perfection of machines. We appreciate effort in people.

You may have heard of the Amish custom of incorporating a flaw into their work in the belief that only God is perfect. Most of us don�t need to introduce errors into our work, or our lives. It�s somehow comforting for me to know that the mere existence of flaws, whether in a craft or my personality, means "hey, I�m human."

What about "practice makes perfect"? Well, I admit that we all have room for improvement. But practice makes you better, not perfect. I could learn to play "Baa Baa Black Sheep" on a piano perfectly, but that wouldn�t make me a pianist. Sure, it�s a good beginning, and the beginning is the only place we can start. Even accomplished professionals need to keep improving their technique. I�m sure that includes brushing up on the basics now and again. (Can�t you just picture Pavarotti singing "Doe, a Deer" as he warms up backstage?)

Practicing is like traveling through a mountain range. Once the first mountain is scaled you can admire the view, then head on down and prepare to climb the next peak.