When an animal's young is born, as a rule, it's ready for living a full life. But a human newborn is born a bit incomplete and reaches the level of an animal only at the age of one and a half... and then it leaves the animal level behind and keeps on developing... It's curious that this incompleteness in a human soul remains for life. All one's life a person will not feel ready for something, will lack something and still feel incomplete... And this very feeling of being incomplete is what differences human beings from animals as this is the perpetual motion which makes this world go round... This very inborn human incompleteness, this inborn imperfection... multiplied by endless thirst for attaining to perfection...
Be simple – it means to forgive yourself and people their shortcomings and deviations from perfection. The simplicity of this tolerance. Forgiveness of sins and imperfections is tolerance.
The meaning of free will is that a person chooses his own goal (dream) and begins to grow towards it, entering the path of improvement. Initially, a person is perfect for their tasks, but choosing a new goal, they take a step into imperfection and get the opportunity to grow again, feeling the joy of endless growth.
You needn't be afraid of being imperfect. You're perfect anyway. Everything material is infinitely perfect. Infinitely many illusions are jealous of the simplest reality.
You dream of becoming an ideal, but the ideal dreams of becoming you. The ideal is infinitely happy that you love it and allow it to somehow be present in reality through yourself. On the other hand, since the ideal is unattainable, the situation of identity with the ideal is impossible. The ideal in the real world is expressed in an infinite growth that fills the entire world without a trace. The ideal must be restrained, otherwise it will paint everything in a black square.
All people are perfect and perfect, but each in its own way. It is pride to think that your perfection is in some way better than the perfection of someone else.
I'm not perfect. Because perfection is dead and I am alive. Moreover, I am very imperfect, because I grow daily, and there is no limit to my growth. I cannot be perfect, because perfection is the best that has lost the joy of growth.