Letting Go of Perfection to Embrace Goodness
Created at: August 10, 2025
And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good. — John Steinbeck
From Perfection to Possibility
Steinbeck’s line turns a key in a stuck door: once the demand to be flawless loosens, action becomes possible. Perfection often freezes us at the threshold—drafts stay unsent, apologies unspoken, projects unstarted. Yet, as soon as the goal shifts from immaculate to meaningful, energy flows toward the next right act. Consider a volunteer at a food pantry who stops waiting for the “ideal” system and simply begins packing boxes; families eat that night because good work replaced perfect plans. Thus, the statement is less about lowering standards than removing a barricade to courage. In this light, goodness emerges not as an endpoint but as movement—small, steady, and responsive—because the absence of perfection stops being an excuse to do nothing and starts becoming permission to do something.
Steinbeck’s Moral Context
Set within East of Eden (1952), the sentiment echoes the novel’s wider theme of moral agency captured in the Hebrew word timshel—“thou mayest.” Steinbeck presents goodness as a choice made under uncertainty, not a certificate granted for spotless records. Characters falter, yet the narrative insists that the possibility of choosing well remains open. By coupling timshel with the rejection of perfection, Steinbeck disentangles goodness from purity tests and ties it instead to responsible freedom. Much as Cal Trask’s struggle illustrates, the point is not to become stainless but to exercise will toward repair. Consequently, the line reframes ethics as a lived practice rather than an unreachable state; we are not disqualified by imperfection, we are enlisted by it, because the chance to choose again is precisely where goodness can take root.
The Psychology of Perfectionism
Modern research clarifies why abandoning perfection liberates action. A meta-analysis by Thomas Curran and Andrew P. Hill in Psychological Bulletin (2017) links rising perfectionism to anxiety, depression, and procrastination—costs that discourage risk and learning. By contrast, Carol Dweck’s Mindset (2006) shows that a growth mindset treats mistakes as information rather than indictment, fueling persistence and improvement. When errors cease to define identity, people try, iterate, and help. Clinically, this mirrors behavioral activation: doing first, refining next. In short, the perfection frame says “don’t start until you can’t fail,” while the goodness frame says “start so you can learn to do right.” The latter cultivates pro-social behavior because attention shifts from self-protection to contribution, making goodness a series of attainable acts rather than a brittle performance.
Virtue as Practiced, Not Performed
Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics presents virtue as a habit guided by phronesis—practical wisdom that selects the fitting mean in messy circumstances. That philosophy harmonizes with Steinbeck: goodness is crafted by repeated, context-sensitive choices, not by sterile perfection. History reinforces the point. Voltaire’s adage “Le mieux est l’ennemi du bien” (1772) warns that the chase for the best can sabotage the good. Likewise, pediatrician-psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott’s “good enough” caregiving (1953) shows that resilient development arises from responsive adequacy, not flawless control. Taken together, these threads suggest that goodness is dynamic and relational. It must meet the moment, hold competing goods in tension, and act despite incomplete information. Thus, what counts is not a spotless ledger but the ongoing, wise calibration of care to reality.
Compassion, Accountability, and Repair
Letting go of perfection also enables honest responsibility. Kristin Neff’s work on self-compassion (2003) finds that kinder self-appraisal reduces defensiveness and increases willingness to make amends. Similarly, Margaret Urban Walker’s Moral Repair (2006) argues that trust is rebuilt through acknowledgment, apology, and changed practice—not denial. In a hospital “just culture,” a nurse who reports a dosing error, discloses to the patient, and helps fix the process does more moral good than one who hides a mistake to appear impeccable. Therefore, goodness does not mean laxity; it means coupling care for the self with accountability to others, so harm can be limited and relationships restored. Crucially, this kind of repair is only possible once perfection’s fear no longer forbids the truth.
Creating and Leading Without the Flawless Myth
In creative and organizational life, the same principle fuels progress. Herbert Simon’s idea of “satisficing” (1956) and Eric Ries’s The Lean Startup (2011) both argue for iterative cycles: release a good, ethical version, learn, improve. Ed Catmull recounts at Pixar how early ideas are “ugly babies” that need protection to grow (Creativity, Inc., 2014). Leaders who prize learning over image invite candor, shorten feedback loops, and increase quality over time. Conversely, a perfection ethos delays launches, punishes dissent, and ossifies mediocrity under a veneer of polish. By normalizing revision, teams translate intention into impact. The lesson aligns with Steinbeck’s: remove the demand to be flawless, and you unlock the permission—and responsibility—to make things genuinely better.
Practicing the Next Right Thing
Finally, Steinbeck’s invitation becomes practical through small, repeatable moves. Borrowing from recovery traditions’ “next right thing,” goodness starts with the nearest actionable choice: send the apology, ship the draft, show up on time, donate the hour you actually have. The Pareto principle (Pareto, 1896) suggests that a few focused efforts often drive most results; thus, choose the vital few goods you can sustain. Then, close the loop: reflect, adjust, and try again tomorrow. In this rhythm, perfection is replaced by trajectory. And because goodness is cumulative, not performative, ordinary days become the workshop of character. Step by imperfect step, you become good—not by never failing, but by never ceasing to move toward what helps, heals, and holds.