Momentarily ignoring the debate over the meaning of words; I think I see the point you are trying to describe. There is joy and beauty to be found in small things, and/or in things we take for granted every day, like the functions of our own minds and bodies.
Perfect, perhaps meaning without flaws… perfectionism being achieved “when there is nothing left to take away”, when form and function work together beautifully.
There is intrigue and mystery and yes, perhaps even joy in the imperfection of world and self and the whole “being alive” thing in general. The nature of life. And reminds me of this post below – the Clockwork (lawful) and Serpentine (chaotic) forces. Would consciousness even exist without a mashup of the two? 
(Or maybe I’ve just been reading too much Brandon Sanderson lately. Looking at you, Ruin and Preservation.)