I look in the mirror every day, but I am not at all sure what I look like in the world. Yes, I have taken phone photos of the back of my head to see what my hair looks like. But still, I’m not sure if I am presenting myself the way I want to.

Then again, what is it I’m trying for? How perfect am I supposed to be when I can’t even tell what I see?

I have been trying to get a view on myself, and whether or how all my medical adventures have changed me. How do I get a view on whether I am weaker or tire more easily than before? That’s not something I can take a photo of.

Do I contort myself to find a way to capture a view? Chasing the immaterial.

What is it I’m looking for? What magic will my appearance unlock?

Perfect is too narrow a target. It’s not even important. Should I be trying for the perfect hair-do? Should I stretch my voice for the perfect note?

I’m never going to get it perfect. Showing up at all is going to get me what I want.

The right place at the right time is magic.

My sensei has taught me the best way to avoid a punch:

Don’t be there.

When my body is not in striking range, I am safe from strikes.

The opposite is just as true. When a nudge or a push is needed the time is now.

Showing up is better than being perfect. Raising my hand when my name. Sitting at the table. Answering the question when it is asked.

And singing the songs. I know I am not as good a singer or musician as I wish I were. But the best way to sing a song is to sing it.

Pushing it into reality. Both performance and practice. I don’t have to contort myself to make a perfect shape. I’m not going to let this day fall without making a sound