Perfect Expectations
As I know more of mankind, I expect less of them, and am ready now to call a man a good man, upon easier terms than I was formerly.
— Samuel Johnson
It sometimes seems as though life can become defined by expectations — whether it is what you expect of yourself, of others, or what others might expect of you. When you think about it, most expectations are unrealistic, because you are making an assumption about at least one thing that you either do not control or do not fully understand. Granted, it may be reasonable to expect a minimum of someone, but that’s not what I’m getting at. What interests me are the unspoken goals we give ourselves and others that drive our decisions, our thoughts, our actions, and ultimately our lives.
Why do we allow our lives to be dictated by such an invisible force? What is to be gained by it? What does it matter if an expectation is met or not?
You may have heard the expression “it is what it is” at some point. Well, unless you are lucky enough to live completely free of expectations, that’s not the case. Everything is given context by someone because it is either the same as or different than what they wanted, predicted, desired, needed, or relied upon happening. It is only human to look to the future and the past, but I find it bizarre that we perpetuate this vicious cycle of putting unnecessary weight on almost everything we do.
For some, expectations are an excellent motivator. They strive to meet them, push beyond them, and create ever more challenging scenarios in which to put themselves. Others are crippled by expectations. Pessimism and cynicism alone do not account for this. The weight we give this pressure to make something happen is so heavy that it can prevent attempts at meeting expectations from even being made.
Perhaps the most common occurrence of expectations playing a role in how things happen is in perfectionism. Attempting to attain perfection is a completely self-defeating goal. Yet, once this pattern becomes ingrained as a habit, it’s almost impossible to see the world in any other way. Anything short of the very best, or a little better, seems unacceptable. “Failure is not an option.” It’s bullshit.
There is so much beauty in what lies outside of perfection. Art is in some ways the very antithesis of this idea: denying judgement, achieving a solitary existence outside of what anyone thinks it ought to be. When something stands completely on its own, regardless of influence, it becomes something that cannot be tainted by these outside forces.
Art doesn’t give a fuck if you approve of it; it doesn’t spare a thought as to whether or not it is good enough; it doesn’t question its motives or its impact. Art simply is. Why should we expect anything different of ourselves?
