As usual, I looked for answers in aviation. Being a pilot is a profession like any other. There are elite pilots, and there are poor ones. They say fate is a hunter, and it eventually verifies one’s competence; the elite usually live longer. Then there’s the average group—because you don’t strictly have to be “elite” to fly safely and transport passengers. Nonetheless, much more is expected of pilots, and this is evident from day one of training. So, where is the healthy boundary between striving for excellence and harmful perfectionism?

Based on my aviation experience, here are the markers of a healthy level of excellence:

Consistency – There’s a rule in training: if a student pilot repeats the same mistakes and knows they’re making them, that’s actually a good sign—it’s something we can work on. But if they make a different mistake every time and have no idea why, it usually means they’ve lost control of the situation. If you can assess what you’re doing wrong and fix it—do it, practice it, and move on. If you can’t assess it, ask for feedback from someone who can. Don’t fly blind.

How far should you keep improving? Until your actions are correct, efficient, and safe—and you know exactly why they are.

Humility – I have yet to hear a pilot describe themselves as “elite.” This isn’t false modesty; it’s the awareness that there are always better pilots to learn from and that we never know what tomorrow’s route will bring. Humility is crucial because it allows us to see the sources we can draw from. Without it, we waste the potential of the rest of the world.

Embracing imperfection – This is incredibly difficult for “pure-bred” perfectionists. We can dwell on the smallest stumbles forever. For me, this ended thanks to an examiner during a cross-country flight check. During the briefing, he mentioned—almost in passing—that while he would be critiquing my flight, I should simply correct the element and immediately stop thinking about it. Ruminating would cloud my judgment and likely cause me to fail. I listened and took it to heart. I received three “direct hits” of criticism before we even left the Babice traffic pattern. It rattled me, but I followed his advice to the letter. I passed. I’ll never forget that flight, but more importantly, I implemented that rule in my life: Zero dwelling.

Practice – There is no mercy here. To achieve proficiency in any field, you simply must practice. The shortcut is a myth. Not only must you practice, but you must be prepared for failure. That, too, is education. Can you get back up, brush yourself off, and try again? If so, you’re on the right track. If not, ask yourself if you truly want to learn this.

I remember learning landings. I grew to heartily detest the Babice circuit and my instructor, who demanded five perfect landings in a row (consistency). I practiced endlessly. Then came the day I had to fly entirely solo. After my second landing, I felt a wave of profound gratitude for that “drilling.” My skill level had reached a point where stress decreased, and correctness soared. Later, with a different instructor, I was told to stop being “too perfect” because I was so focused on the “recipe” that any unexpected variable (like another aircraft’s odd behavior) threw me off. In the high traffic of our airport, flying by a single script is absurd. You have to react to variables. Practice, strive for excellence, but don’t overdo it.

Self-awareness – To be a pilot, you need healthy self-esteem. You shouldn’t overestimate or underestimate yourself. Easier said than done! Take feedback from those you trust and use objective methods to verify your skills. It’s too easy to make a mistake when you’re your only judge.

Meeting others’ expectations – A sensible pilot will always refuse to take off or land if conditions are unsafe, regardless of who is hovering over their shoulder. They are in command and responsible for everyone’s safety. They won’t spend a second wondering what others think. Life is the same. It is ours alone. It shouldn’t be lived at our own expense just to satisfy others.

And then, I began working in the medical industry, specifically creating training programs for medical equipment users: paramedics, doctors, and nurses. This proved to be a whole new level of difficulty. It’s a highly proceduralized environment that still frequently allows for a “God complex,” which drastically increases the risk of error and—paradoxically—reduces the perceived need for further education. At the same time, there is immense responsibility, stress, and a lack of time to learn. To be clear: I have immense respect for medical professionals. But I also know the education system doesn’t make their job easy.

That is why finding a way to create effective, precise, and, above all, encouraging training programs is such a challenge. It’s the perfect mission for a perfectionist with a teacher’s soul.

By Luci

Artykuł Practice is a necessary evil for those who aren’t yet perfect ;) Part 2 pochodzi z serwisu Luciville.

My reflections on the pursuit of excellence were reignited after watching The Lion King on London’s West End. The performance was simply breathtaking. As the orchestra struck up the “Circle of Life,” a parade of wildlife—recreated with stunning accuracy through makeup and props—swept across the stage. The giraffes were divine, but it was the full-scale elephant and its calf marching through the theater that truly left me awestruck. The stage was alive; birds soared over the audience. From the opening note to the final curtain, they held my absolute attention, fueled by impeccable costumes, set design, music, and extraordinary performances.

If perfection is an evil, then please, give me more of it.

Once again, I found myself envying the West End’s endless pool of talent. Every artist wants to be there—unless, of course, they’re already on Broadway. This ambition ensures a level of quality that is truly world-class. There are no compromises. It must be exceptional, beautiful, and electrifying. The goal is to leave every single person in the audience spellbound.

But is it just a numbers game? Is it pure statistics—the idea that you need a massive talent pool to find the “diamonds”? Statistics certainly help; the more rock you sift through, the higher the chance of finding a gem. Yet, nobody is born a master. Or perhaps we are all born with equal potential, and it’s simply a matter of what we do with it? They say 10,000 hours of practice makes a master. But is that always true? I suspect not.

Nobody is born a master.

When I work with professionals on skill development, the topic of perfectionism frequently arises. It’s often entangled with micromanagement, a failure to delegate, “DIY syndrome,” poor time management, and a sense of being irreplaceable—behaviors generally considered detrimental. In these cases, I focus on the downsides, encouraging people to “let go”—mostly of their own unrealistic expectations—to unlock their potential and find more joy in their work and life.

We live in an era that discourages patience and consistent effort.

However, I also see the opposite extreme: a growing acceptance of mediocrity and intellectual laziness. We live in an era that discourages patience and consistent effort. We don’t save; we take out loans. We don’t learn difficult skills; we download an app. We don’t read; we watch the movie. We don’t master mental math; we use computers. We stop thinking because the world is neatly organized for us by someone else…

To be continued in Part 2.

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