Several years ago, when I was a full-time computer programmer, I worked for a small but growing company.  I was assigned to a team to develop the company’s major new product. It was an excellent team; we got along well together and we all enjoyed programming. After working on the project for a month or so, it became clear that it was much more complex than originally thought. Soon we were working long hours, late into the night and on most weekends. Every time we finished a section, it became apparent that there was something else we could do to make it even better. Since this was the start of a new product line, we wanted to create the best program possible. As the amount of work continued to grow, the team’s morale dropped. We barely had enough time to finish the basic project much less the improvements that would tremendously enhance the original design.

At one of our meetings when we were discussing how to implement some of the enhancements, our manager stopped the discussion and began to talk about the difference between “good” and “good enough.”  He explained that “good” is perfection, the absolute perfect project that is so complete that nothing will ever need to be changed or improved. The perfect program would never need enhancement. “Good enough” is the best that is humanly possible. Good enough is not doing something just to get it done, but doing the best that can be done at the present time.

This quieted all of us. We knew that perfection is impossible in a computer program. There is always something that can be added or improved upon so no program is ever complete. In attempting perfection, we were attempting the impossible. The best we could hope to do was “good enough.” Since most of us were perfectionists, it took us a little while to adapt to this way of thinking, but when we did, our morale improved which helped us complete the first version. The program was well received, and in subsequent versions we added a number of the improvements that we had conceived in the project’s early stages.

Many of us set perfection as our goal at work and at play. In a yoga pose, we would like to have every bone and muscle in exactly the right place. Unfortunately, no yoga pose is ever that perfect. There is always a way we could move a muscle differently, have a little more extension here or flexibility there. If we become completely focused on doing the ideal pose, we run the risk of losing the joy of the pose because we can never reach that perfection. Instead, if we view the perfect pose as doing it to the best of our ability and being happy and content that we have done our best, the pose becomes fun. Over time our poses change. Our flexibility or strength may increase with practice or decrease due to an injury, but if we do our best, each pose is no more or less perfect or enjoyable than the one we did months or years before.

When we are working to the best of our ability, the way in which we view each task, project or pose is all a matter of attitude. When perfection is our only goal, we are disappointed because no matter how hard we try, there is always something more that can be accomplished and we always fall short. If instead we approach life with the intention of doing our best, the results become less important and we can enjoy the steps along the way.

My brother is almost five years younger than I am.  Being older, I learned how to do most activities first, and he would imitate me.  Every summer we went to a local pool where I learned to swim first.  My brother valiantly attempted the same strokes, but it was a struggle.  His arms and legs flailed and his head popped up occasionally as he gasped for air. It was a bit unsettling to watch him; it looked like he might go under at any moment.

A few years later at the beginning of the summer, he jumped into the pool and swam. His kick was steady, his arms moved in rhythm and he took smooth breaths instead of gasps.  It was as if he had been swimming for years. At the end of the previous summer, he had looked nothing like this, and as far as I knew, he had not been to a pool all winter.  I asked my mother what happened, and she explained that I had done exactly the same thing.  One summer I jumped into the pool and swam.  She thought it had something to do with age.  At some point there is a breakthrough connection between the mind and body so that the complicated coordination of swimming is possible.

I have seen similar breakthroughs many times in my classes. Three years ago, a woman in my Level 1 class had trouble holding the basic alignment of poses.  When one leg was in alignment, the other was not; when her legs were in alignment, her torso was not.  Regardless, she had a wonderful attitude; she did not get frustrated or compete with other students. Instead she just played with each pose to the best of her ability.  A few weeks before the end of the session, we did one of the more challenging Level 1 standing poses for the first time.  When she moved into it, something clicked and it looked like she had practiced the pose for years! She had all of the major alignments, even those I had not taught yet.  I could tell by her smile that she knew something had changed.  After that pose, her other poses changed too.  There had been a breakthrough.  Through her quiet persistence, her mind and body had made a connection and a beautiful joy radiated from her.

There are many components to a breakthrough. The physical part is the most obvious: suddenly moving more deeply into a pose, or attempting a pose that a few months before seemed impossible. Though these breakthroughs seem sudden, they are usually the result of many components developed over time coming together.

For many people forward bends are a challenge.  They cannot be forced; it requires time and patience to stretch the hamstring muscles.  When somebody finally touches their toes for the first time in a standing forward bend, the physical accomplishment is obvious, but the patience that the pose teaches may not be immediately apparent.  The person may discover one day that they can deal more patiently with friends or family in a stressful situation. Or, perhaps they notice a sense of calm that lasts an entire drive to work in heavy traffic. When we can do something new physically, the reward is the joy of a new accomplishment. The qualities such as patience and persistence that accompany each breakthrough enrich us; they add value and meaning to our lives.

I hope that as you explore through yoga, you enjoy all of the facets that each breakthrough brings.