You Don’t Have to Be Perfect to Be Ready

“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”— Ursula K. Le Guin

When I was a teen, I fantasized about being the best roller skater in the world. I couldn't envision what it would look like to be best (it involved a lot of quintuple luxes and septuple axels) because I wasn't one of those kids who would do the research when I had a dream. I'd just soak in the imaginary feeling of being so good at something that everyone for eternity admired me for it.

Each week at homeschool skate afternoon (where music with a drumbeat was strictly forbidden), an employee cleared the rink for 20 minutes to run a skate race. The winner got a free slush from the snack bar. It was the perfect set-up for the pursuit of my fantasy: roller skates, competition for "the best", and a captive audience of moms who I'm sure deeply cared about the outcome.

Have you heard about my roller skating fame? Come to think of it, is my own mother aware that I'm the world's best skater? Let's be real. Every week, I had the opportunity to make some form of my dream a reality. And every week, I stood among the spectators, drinking the slush I'd paid for like a commoner.

Dreams as Invitations

Sometimes, the first sign you want to make something real is the fantasy you escape reality for. Even if the dream is surreal, exaggerated, and implausible, it points to something tangible you could see yourself building. Part of what makes fantasies powerful is how they promise your potential; you revisit that vision because it holds freedom, clarity, or opportunity you don't yet have.

This is the part where I could tell you to write down your dream and break it up into actionable steps. But jumping to the solution too quickly can gloss over the root problem. Instead, let's listen for a minute to what the awkward teenager inside all of us wants to say.

What a Meanie

I want a dream, but I feel embarrassed by it. I want clarity, but not the painful truth. I am simultaneously invincible and afraid to fail. My privilege and resilience will help determine whether I "try out loud" or tuck this dream away until it feels safer.

The bully I need safety from? Perfection.

Perfection punishes you for trying. It rewrites the rules mid-process. It raises the bar every time you get close. If given full power, perfection hides your work, isolates your ideas from other people, threatens you with shame and self-doubt, and shifts your focus from substance to polish.

But the substance is the real thing you want: something people can respond to, clarity through action, confidence through iteration. When you take your dream out of draft mode, that thing you wanted can finally take form, grow, improve, and help others.

Final Thoughts

What are you waiting for permission to build? What vision have you harbored that might actually be "good enough" to begin? What will become possible when you let the real thing take shape?

This week, we're looking at grant writing, but we're also using grant writing as a metaphor for every leap we take from something we could hide, to something we can build.

On Wednesday, we'll explore what searching for grants actually means about your intentions, and how to connect your goals to a foundation's goals for mutual benefit.

On Friday, I've got some quick action steps to get you started on articulating your fundable dream.

If you're brave enough, you can make small, flawed attempts at your dream. And I, for one, will be cheering you on from the snack bar with my free slush.