The perfect architect doesn't care.

            So I've found that I've been feeling nostalgic for times that never happened.  Like, I long for a feeling, but I feel like the opportunity for that feeling has passed.  I'm also having a hard time remembering moments in my life that I was the architect of that were perfect.  Nothing was wrong at all, and it was all my fault.  I'd like to feel that way, to know what that is.  But maybe it happened, and I missed it somehow, because I cared too much - I was too critical.  But how can one be critical of what happens in one's own life and enjoy it at the same time?  And how can a perfect moment be created without being critical?  What's the way around this paradox?